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Weekly Contest #98
Gas stations smelled terrible. Maybe it was just me, or maybe it was just the select few gas stations that I frequented. Either way, I felt justified in how much I hated the smell. Every time I stepped near one, I was rather criminally assaulted by the pungent odor of petrol mixed in with the two-month-old eggs in the broken refrigerators that lived in the back of the store. They were, by no means, pleasant visits on my part. Unfortunately, I was on a mission. My dear aunt, one Sally Ellis, had tasked me with running out and returning with,...
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