This isn't weird.

Merlin

Stanley's character could be neatly summarized by two rather contradictory traits. He was both

A) relentlessly inquisitive, and

B) not in the least bit curious.

Zero effort was wasted on his part attempting to pry beyond Millie's evasive, one-word answers, because he didn't care about her answers. The questions were simply a quasi-polite springboard to his answers.

"So youse do a lot of traveling, hon?" he asked as they started down the road. His accent made Millie imagine a Minnesotan living covertly among Bostonians, trying with varying degrees of success to pass himself off as one of their own.

"Some," she replied.

"Me, I do as much traveling as I can," he said. "Got it on the ol' bucket list to catch a fish in all fifty states before I die. Can't do as much as I'd like to, though, or my old lady gets on my ass about leaving her alone with the kids. What does she expect? Men aren't wired for sitting around babysitting day in, day out. A man needs to get out there, y'know? See what there is to see. You think we'd have fifty states if Lewis and Clark had been stuck at home having tea parties? Hell no! Men evolved to be explorers, y'know? Don't get me wrong, I know ladies who like to travel, but it's a whole other thing for them. They're just taking vacations, y'know? Looking for new places to shop and take pretty pictures they can show off to their friends. They're not real travelers, they're tourists."

"Gee, I like pretty pictures."

"Exactly! Don't get me wrong, hon, there's nothing wrong with that, it's just something different, y'know? I'm out here to learn, broaden up my horizons. It's a guy thing. Hey, and, for the record, my mother-in-law comes over all the time to watch the little ones, so all this 'leaving me alone with the kids' crap my old lady's always spouting is just her being dramatic. She gets help all the time, so I don't know why she gets her panties in such a twist any time I try and go anywhere. I'm no good at all that babysitting stuff, anyway. I don't got the instincts for it like they do. What about you, hon, youse got any kids?"

"No."

"Me, I got five would, you believe it? God almighty, I would've been happy stopping at one or two, but she's always got some excuse for why she doesn't want to get her tubes tied, so she just keeps poppin'um out. She keeps saying I ought to get a vasectomy. Can you believe that shit? You can't ask a man to do something like that. It just ain't natural. Might as well ask me to start shaving my legs and wearing a dress. Anyway, why should I have to? I'm not the one that keeps getting pregnant. You'd think she'd have that shit figured out by now. They're good kids, though. Just too damn many of them. A man needs a break. Youse married, Kathy?"

"No."

"Married going on eighteen years now. Christ, I'm getting old. Highschool sweethearts, tied the knot pretty quick after graduating. You wouldn't know it looking at her now, but she was a cheerleader back then. Real knockout. That's why I looked past the fact she can't cook to save her damn life. Figured she'd learn sooner or later, but boy, was I ever wrong. But you know what's crazy? Her mom cooks like nobody's business! Woman makes the best goddamn crab cakes you ever had in your life. Total shrew in just about every other way, but it's worth putting up with her now and again as long as she's making dinner. Too bad she didn't pass any of that on to her daughter, though. I always figured that kinda thing was genetic. Shows you what I know! Youse like to cook, Kathy?"

"Some."

"Me, I like firing up the grill when the weather..."

On and on he droned, and Millie began to wonder if maybe her car had exploded after all. Maybe real eternal damnation was less fire-and-brimstone, and more... this. She gritted her teeth and tried to feel grateful. He's a nice man, she told herself. An absolute fucking tool, but nice! He didn't have to stop and help her, but he did. Nice! He wasn't hitting on her (yet, anyway). Nice! He wasn't serial killing her (yet, anyway). Nice! Just a nice, nice, nice man, with a few endearing little quirks, like calling grown women little lady and explaining extremely basic concepts to them without being asked! Just! So! Nice!

When meditating on gratitude didn't lessen her irritation, she tried to tune him out. When trying to tune him out didn't work, she told herself that tomorrow she would look back on this and laugh. When she didn't in her heart of hearts believe it, she imagined him as a felt puppet with a stupid yellow mustache. Now, that was the ticket! In the blink of an eye, his prattle was transformed from torture into entertainment. His accent sounded so much more natural coming from a muppet.

When Stanley finished monologuing about his manly, manly proficiency at grilling meat and only meat, he asked, "So, where youse from, hon?"

"South," she muttered, but barely even got the word out before he impatiently blurted his own answer.

"Maryland, born and bred!" he said, though he pronounced it Merlin, and his boastful tone of voice seemed entirely unwarranted to Millie. It made perfect sense, though. She was pretty sure she'd read once that the Jim Henson Company was originally founded in Maryland. Clearly, he was an early reject.

"Youse ever been?" he asked.

"No."

"Capital of the whole damn planet, far as I'm concerned, and I should know. I've seen half this country by now, and I ain't found one place that stacks up to Maryland. It's like God took everything great about the US and crammed it all into twelve hundred square miles. National Geographic nicknamed it America in miniature, but some people just call it Little America. Little America rolls off the tongue better, if you ask me. We got everything. Beaches and mountains and prairies, whatever you want, we got it. Well, except for deserts, but who needs those? Hey, youse eat much seafood?"

"Some."

"Let me tell you, hon, Maryland's got the best damn seafood in the world. And all the crabs a man could ever eat. Just a little slice of heaven. You know they wrote the national anthem there? And our state flag, it blows all the other states' out of the water. Just look at it and tell me that ain't the most beautiful goddamn flag youse ever seen." He pointed to the plastic crab on the dashboard.

"Oh. Um."

That was the first of her responses that he actually seemed to hear. "Um?" he repeated, incredulous. "Whaddaya mean, um?"

"It's... nice."

"Nice? Nice? It's a goddamn piece of art! You name one better lookin' flag in the world!"

"Well... I like the Texas flag."

"The Texas flag? The Texas flag? Youse kiddin' me? That's just the goddamn American flag dumbed down for a toddler!"

Until that moment, Millie would have insisted that she was immune to the mindless, stereotypical loyalty that everyone else she had grown up with felt for the Lone Star flag. But the second the words left Stanley's mouth, a monstrous rage flared up inside her.

He did not just fucking say that.

HE DID NOT JUST FUCKING SAY THAT.

The muppet was no longer entertaining.

"Excuse me?" she said with an acidic laugh. "Your flag looks like a colorblind Nascar driver took a second job as a clown at a shitty ren faire. I'm pretty sure whoever designed that hideous thing was pulling a prank that got out of hand because they never imagined anyone would be tacky enough to actually use it."

"Yeah? Well, your flag looks like what woulda happened if Betsy Ross got dropped on her head as a baby!"

"You know what, Stanley from Merlin? Why don't you just let me out here?"

"Gladly!" He made a sharp turn into the shopping center they were about to pass and slammed on the brakes.

Millie was pushing the door open before the car had even come to a complete stop. "Thanks for the ride!" she snapped as she stepped out, then turned to glare back at him one last time. "Oh, and by the way! It's not babysitting when they're your own kids, you fuckin' deadbeat!" With that, she slammed the door behind her, and he sped off.

After dusting herself off and taking a few deep, calming breaths, Millie looked around to see where this latest cosmic breeze had carried her. Ugh. Well, it certainly wasn't her first choice, but the universe had spoken.

Today, she belonged in a Wal-Mart parking lot.