I’m on the corner in front of Katterman’s Drug Store. They took one look and ran me out after I paid at the register, caked in dust and sweat from an afternoon on the diamond.
So now here I am. Debating.
Do I rip open this pack of Topps in the August swelter? Risk pissing Mom off even worse than I know she is? I’m late already. Why not take a look? Or do I hop back on my bike, sprint home, beg forgiveness, bolt up the stairs, and take refuge in the bathtub?
One foot on the pedal, I straddle the seat and… no. No! I gotta see who I got. The waxy wrap falls away. Funny, the bubblegum feels like cardboard, and the cards smell like bubblegum.
Tom Who? Why do they fill these packs with rookies?