Our local 7-Eleven was one of my childhood places that was supposed to be "off limits." Other off limits establishments included the comic and magazine shop where I was able to indulge my PLANET OF THE APES and KISS fascinations all while getting a glimpse at the covers of bagged copies of PLAYBOY.
Anyway, The Sev sat at the entrance to our development and was, as far as my mother was concerned, the root of all evil in our town. Had this been an episode of last season's '24', Marwan (the great Arnold Vosloo) would've been plotting his nuclear attack over by the stained and burned pinball machine that sat in the corner. Him and the Wilsons. Those Wilsons, bad eggs according to Ma, and I think they stole my bike once.
The result of my medium security 7-Eleven ban? I never really developed a taste for Slurpees. To this day I find them to be nothing more than okay, a pleasant diversion on a hot as a crotch summer day, but nothing more.
My wife, on the other hand, is like some sort of Slurpee mad scientist, blending and tasting and concocting all sorts of taste mish-mashes in the hopes of finding just the right flavors to savor.
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