Sir Pumping Gas

So I go to load up the Beast yesterday and I hear this distant voice, "Sir...sir...excuse me sir...sir pumping gas." I think this voice is being directed at the people across from me who are facing toward the voice, but no, it's me. They ignore it, get in their vehicle and burn rubber out of there. I turn and see a slackerly looking fellow with a silver chain round his neck, draped over his black rock concert t-shirt and he's selling meat out of the back of his truck. He shows me his meat content and it looks good but I don't have any cash, so no meat for me and I'm not about to give a credit card to a gentleman on a street corner.