The Worse Part of Valor

A funny thing happened on the way to the checkout register...

My wife is a big Mark Martin fan. For those of you who aren't steeped in the Southern tradition that is North American Stock Car Auto Racing, or NASCAR, Mark Martin is a rather likeable, down to Earth race car driver who was sponsored by Valvoline for quite a few years. Several years ago his contract was up, whereupon he got picked up by Pfizer, the makers of Viagra.

So now my wife gets to wear an Officially Licensed(tm) NASCAR(tm) Viagra(tm)(c)(r) sweatshirt($$$) with a big number 6 emblazoned upon it, which is the number painted on Mark Martin's Nextel Cup neé Winston Cup race car.

Well, my wife - adorned with the aforementioned shirt - and I were standing in line at the local K-Mart one fine day. A few twenty-something good-ol' boys got in line behind us. One brave young lad, who apparently hadn't yet learned that discretion is the better part of valor, decided to poke a bit of fun at Mark Martin's new sponsor at my wife's expense.

Now, have you ever seen a car wreck? Listening to this poor guy ramble on was like watching a car head for a brick wall at 100 MPH, but in slow motion. You know the driver is dead meat, you know it'll be over quickly, and you know there's absolutely nothing you can do about it.

After listening quietly to several good natured jabs, my wife turned around to face the overconfident font of humor and said, rather loudly I pridefully add, "So, what do you have against erections, anyway?"

It took another 5 minutes in line to get to the checkout clerk, 5 minutes that were filled with total silence from Mister Adventure astern.

His pals sure had a good belly laugh, though.