Shit rich people buy

The date was not going well. At least not in a linear sense. She held me close as we stood at the entrance to a store full of high-end golf carts people could use for the day and then drive home.

“Wow, look at the shit righ people buy,” I said to her. I could feel her snug closer. I didn’t know if it was because she was having fun or because she was chilly from being soaking wet.

The date started at a friend’s house as we were both leaving. I’d spilled salsa on my white pants and some kind of meat sauce on my white shirt. This was after breaking their plumbing so that water was pouring through the ceiling.

I just wanted to escape but couldn’t through the door, so I climbed through a window, wrecking the screen and two roses bushes doing it.

She was walking down the sidewalk when I stood up.

“Did you get lost,” she asked before looping her arm through my elbow. “Care to walk a lady to her car?”

On the way, she reached in and kissed me.

“What just happened,” she said.

“I don’t know. Care to talk about it over dinner?”

“Be delighted.”

Dinner was a restaurant on the golf club accessible only by golf carts.

The trip would take us through the shallow part of a pool that provided water for a stream that flowed through the course.

While crossing, one of the wheels went off the side, and we fell into the pool. A current caught us and took us over a waterfall.

“What the fuck,” she said while laughing.

“Hold on, this is going to get weird.”

The cart found purchase on the bottom and we drove over another waterfall and across a patio.

“Heavens,” said a local matron. “What will your parents say.

My date responded with a snorting laugh. I looked behind us and saw that the cart had ripped up the turf, leaving two dark ruts of exposed top soil.

“That’s gonna leave a mark,” I said, laughing to myself.

I turned just as we crashed through a wrought-iron fence and tumbled down the side of a hill.

When we stood up, we were at the entrance of the store.

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