“Needa ShamWoo!” bellowed the morbidly obese woman in the motorized chair.
I had my eye on her already. She had used salty language on the guy who tried to open the door for her. She wanted to smack the automatic door button instead. She had demanded that he let the door go so that she could do so.
“Pardon?”
“SHAMWOO! I NEED A SHAMWOO! SHAM! WOO!”
It took five total bellowings before I realized that she needed a chair moved.
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