“Cmon, give me a smile,” the photographer cajoled, spread out on his stomach, some expensive camera in one hand, and thunder threatening both body and equipment in the not so far away distance, “Just three more shots!”
A person ran across to join the huddled group. Someone passed gas. And the wind blew it. In our direction. A few people laughed and made obnoxious jokes. A few others murmured photoshop quips and some guy slapped a girl’s ass, and still more cursed at the approaching rain, raised fists skyward.
“We Survived Senior Picture Day shirts should be made after this,” another dude muttered.
And I pictured my boss sitting in training, reading over the meticulous notes I sent her before leaving early, and cringed.
In usual Clerks fashion (because let’s be real, that movie comes to mind in many lives on a regular basis), I thought, “I’m not a senior anymore. I’ wasn’t supposed to even be here today.”
The camera flash went off a few times in succession, closely tailed by lightning.
