We would walk up and down the isles of McConnell’s Pharmacy and gather items to charge to CC's dads account. Luxury items like Keri lotion, Bonne Belle Lip Smacker, and cough syrup. We were buying lots of cough syrup because Lance Smith told us you could get drunk on it if you chugged enough. We had yet to try it, as Lance was the kid who came to school several weeks ago with a burnt face from Freon sucking and huffing, but we wanted some options for when the 2 liters of Bartles and James in my closet ran out.
We became so brazen later in our rebellion that we would charge cigarettes and chewing gum when any worker that was not a McConnell was behind the counter. CC’s old granny smoked and often she would make us bring her cigarettes to her apartment on Main and Leonard. Back in the day you could take a little penned note to most mom and pop places that instructed the cashier (who probably knew your family) to sell you cigarettes to bring home. We were certain that CC’s dad never looked at the bills and it didn’t matter because CC had found out that the bills all said “sundry” with numbers instead of product names.
It was easy times.
The only times when it didn't work is when it didn’t.