$3.50 shipping for flashlight take survey

GrizGriz Palm Beach Gardens, FloridaPosts: 9,633 Admin
The early bird may get the worm, but the Second Mouse gets the cheese. SW

:Griz

Replies

  • camojoecamojoe Posts: 1,100 Officer
    Nice deal, great keychain light for the average user. :thumbsup
    Politics is the art of looking for trouble, finding it everywhere, diagnosing it incorrectly and applying the wrong remedies.

    Groucho Marx
  • bullgatorbullgator Posts: 1,940 Officer
    I have one of those (I think they ran this survey deal before). It's a great little light for $3.50
  • HoltHolt Posts: 971 Officer
    Thanks...never have enough of those for the job.
    [SIGPIC][/SIGPIC]
  • DOCKSIDEDOCKSIDE Posts: 1,672 Captain
    yeah, but only 32 lumens isn't very bright.
    somewhere south of disorder and on earth... mostly .
    ..............................................................................
    IBEW LU 433
  • Tarpon65Tarpon65 Posts: 6,099 Admiral
    DOCKSIDE wrote: »
    yeah, but only 32 lumens isn't very bright.

    Heck, most of the members here are barely 25 lumens.
    Always Do Sober What You Said You'd Do Drunk. That Will Teach You To Keep Your Mouth Shut. - Ernest Hemingway
  • SonOfAGunninSonOfAGunnin Posts: 5,084 Officer
    Harbor Freight gives 'em away. The coupon is in a rack just inside if by chance you missed it in the paper or any one of a thousand magazines.
  • NaplesBaitManNaplesBaitMan Posts: 340 Officer
    It was raining, that is all I remember. The dark, crystal black droplets ran down my face and plummeted to the cobblestone ground. The echoes stammered along the street, barely audible. I was making my way to the Senchol building. There was always something wrong with that place, I could never put my finger on it. It was just a feeling, after all. Today was the third day this week they’d ordered from us. I wonder if it was just to see me. Ms. Senchol always wore the same outfit, every day. Dark green dress that had leafy patterning with loose stitching, and slippers. She seemed like an interesting woman, whom time, and most of our small town, had simply forgotten. We never talked, just exchanged awkward, forced small talk. Her eyes, however. Her eyes told a story, they were stunning in an indescribable way. I froze the first time she looked at me, we locked eyes for a few seconds before I was able to give her the total.
    This night was different. I could feel it.
    I got back in my car, the cigarette butt still barely glowing, fading in the distance as I drove. The rain doing its best to extinguish it. It began to pour. My windshield wipers couldn’t go any faster, the rhythmic thud of them, and the pounding of the rain on the body of my ’99 Forester put me in a trance of sorts. It was hard to describe, we all know the feeling. As if my brain was processing something, something big, but it wouldn’t give me a clue as to what it was. There was no one else on the roads, this would be normal most days, but not today, it was Friday, and I was going through town. I continued on.
    As my headlights bounced from the cracks in the road, her house came in and out of view. I was almost there, to my last delivery of the night. To sleeping on my couch, to Saturday, to pure relaxation. It gave me the energy to go on, though I still felt like something was wrong.
    I pulled into her driveway and grabbed the pizzas, she always ordered 4, but there was never anyone else home. I didn’t question it. Before I could even knock, the door swung open. Her faint voice, it sounded different, unusual. “Come in... Don’t mind the mess.” she rasped. I stepped in, every one of my senses in high alert, telling me to stop, turn around, and leave. I set the pizzas on the counter and gave her the total, $66.50. She beckoned for me to come over to her armchair, still, my body refused, but I knew I had to. She hands me three twenties and a ten. I felt a warm gush of air, it repulsed me, I nearly threw up. My mind finally agreed to go, so did my body. I started to leave, I started to leave as fast as I could. Ms. Senchol could tell. She asked me to stop moving for a minute, just one. Then, in a voice that was guttural, primal, inhuman, Ms. Senchol said the five words that would haunt me for the rest of my life. I turned, shaking visibly, trying to keep my face placid. Then she said it.
    “Imma need about three fiddy.”
    It was about that time that I noticed Ms. Senchol was around 600 feet tall and a monster from the Paleozoic era. I screamed “GOD **** LOCH NESS MONSTA, I AINT GIVIN YOU NO TREE FIDDY, I NEED MY TIP.”
    I ran, I ran, and I ran. Everything is a blur to me now. It was raining, that is all I remember.
  • SonOfAGunninSonOfAGunnin Posts: 5,084 Officer
    Awesome.
  • PopeyePopeye Posts: 14,296 Officer
    It was raining, that is all I remember. The dark, crystal black droplets ran down my face and plummeted to the cobblestone ground. The echoes stammered along the street, barely audible. I was making my way to the Senchol building. There was always something wrong with that place, I could never put my finger on it. It was just a feeling, after all. Today was the third day this week they’d ordered from us. I wonder if it was just to see me. Ms. Senchol always wore the same outfit, every day. Dark green dress that had leafy patterning with loose stitching, and slippers. She seemed like an interesting woman, whom time, and most of our small town, had simply forgotten. We never talked, just exchanged awkward, forced small talk. Her eyes, however. Her eyes told a story, they were stunning in an indescribable way. I froze the first time she looked at me, we locked eyes for a few seconds before I was able to give her the total.
    This night was different. I could feel it.
    I got back in my car, the cigarette butt still barely glowing, fading in the distance as I drove. The rain doing its best to extinguish it. It began to pour. My windshield wipers couldn’t go any faster, the rhythmic thud of them, and the pounding of the rain on the body of my ’99 Forester put me in a trance of sorts. It was hard to describe, we all know the feeling. As if my brain was processing something, something big, but it wouldn’t give me a clue as to what it was. There was no one else on the roads, this would be normal most days, but not today, it was Friday, and I was going through town. I continued on.
    As my headlights bounced from the cracks in the road, her house came in and out of view. I was almost there, to my last delivery of the night. To sleeping on my couch, to Saturday, to pure relaxation. It gave me the energy to go on, though I still felt like something was wrong.
    I pulled into her driveway and grabbed the pizzas, she always ordered 4, but there was never anyone else home. I didn’t question it. Before I could even knock, the door swung open. Her faint voice, it sounded different, unusual. “Come in... Don’t mind the mess.” she rasped. I stepped in, every one of my senses in high alert, telling me to stop, turn around, and leave. I set the pizzas on the counter and gave her the total, $66.50. She beckoned for me to come over to her armchair, still, my body refused, but I knew I had to. She hands me three twenties and a ten. I felt a warm gush of air, it repulsed me, I nearly threw up. My mind finally agreed to go, so did my body. I started to leave, I started to leave as fast as I could. Ms. Senchol could tell. She asked me to stop moving for a minute, just one. Then, in a voice that was guttural, primal, inhuman, Ms. Senchol said the five words that would haunt me for the rest of my life. I turned, shaking visibly, trying to keep my face placid. Then she said it.
    “Imma need about three fiddy.”
    It was about that time that I noticed Ms. Senchol was around 600 feet tall and a monster from the Paleozoic era. I screamed “GOD **** LOCH NESS MONSTA, I AINT GIVIN YOU NO TREE FIDDY, I NEED MY TIP.”
    I ran, I ran, and I ran. Everything is a blur to me now. It was raining, that is all I remember.

    Oh no.:grin
    When I was younger, I could remember anything...

    whether it had happened or not.

    Mark Twain

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