In the dusty desert, the gray night moon beaming, Anton Snuggly walks into a lone station of gas, the night clerk chewing sunflower seeds. Snuggly speaks.
-Are you tender?
-Excuse me, sir?
-Are you tender?
-Sir, I don't understand.
-You don't understand?
-Um, can I help you, sir?
-You can get me some blankets, for starters.
-Sir?
-You're hard of hearing, aren't you!