Tall Tales from a Gunshow

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Kinda like the aisles in a grocery or convenience store. I may not buy ho-hos, a pair of pantyhose, an unbreakable comb, and a newspaper every time I stop for gas, but I can get what I went there for and leave without passing judgment on the clerk for having products I don't buy, even if the clerk tells me that my regular unleaded is vintage fuel from a WW2 crash site in Roswell and that's why it's 3 bucks a gallon.

That there is dang funny.

But it can't be true because the last guy I bought fuel from told me it was the LAST of the vintage Roswell gas.
I talked him down to $5.50/gallon. Don't tell me he was lying.

Please, don't tell me that.