It was a sunny Saturday morning, four good friends—Bernard, J.J., and a couple of others—gathered on the porch, reminiscing about old times. The air was warm, and the scent of freshly brewed coffee with a hint of cigarettes smoke floating through the air. With the sun drying up the dew and birds chirping in the trees made life seemed to slow down just a bit.
Then walks up Stanley, he approached the porch speaking to everyone in an energetic tone.
"Morning, my good friends from the past present and hopefully not in the future!" Stanley said, flashing a grin. "Beautiful day, isn't it?"
The friends nodded and exchanged conversations. But then, out of nowhere, one of them—the silly one—leaned forward and said, "Hold up, Wait One minute!" Stanley. Not, “One Minute Stanley”. They all laughed. (He'd earned the nickname "One-Minute Stanley" because, well, everything he did seemed to happen in a flash).
Stanley chuckled. "Very funny," he replied. "But anyway, I need a ride to the store."
Bernard, the owner of a silver car with a small dent in the back. “Sure thing” he said while cranking the engine. Ok that will be "Ten dollars to take you there, and another ten for bringing you back here. Do we have a Deal?"
Stanley agreed, and Bernard shifted the car into reverse. But right when the wheels were about to start roll backwards with the brakes slightly squeaking, Stanley leans forward looking at the dashboard. "Man, Bernard," he said, pointing at the fuel gauge, "you've got a half tank of gas in here”. You don’t need no gas.
Bernard says, “ I know I don’t need gas but you do” and pressed on the brake, putting the car in park, and stepped out the car. He walked back to the porch, where J.J. was sipping his coffee. "Did you see that?" J. J. Said out loud , shaking his head. "That’s the fastest ride to the store and back, that’s has to be the world record!"
Bernard laughed . "That's our One-Minute Stanley for you," he said. "He needs take a minute to think before talking."
Back in the car, Stanley stuck his head out the car window and said "Say, Bernard," he asked, "what time are we leaving?"
Bernard sighed, "I see why they call you 'One Minute Stanley.' It must take a minute for things to register."
And so, with Stanley's user mentality and Bernard's half-tank of gas, they sat on the porch and enjoyed each other company. But one thing was certain: Stanley's timing was impeccable, even if it left Bernard scratching his head. As Stanley said his goodbyes and walked home, the porch erupted in laughter, and the legend of One-Minute Stanley was here to stay.
And that, my friend, is how a simple ride to the store turned into a comedy of perfect one minute timing.