DPM

The Dougherty Pop Machine.

The Machine. The Myth. The Legend.

Again, before you read this, you may want to go check out this post to get the original story on the DPM. Or this one to get the latest post about Dougherty.

After you get caught up on the Dougherty Pop Machine, enter this post at your own risk.

Which is what I wish someone would’ve told me before I approached the DPM.

You see, I was out on the Cheese Ball Crawl, gathering all the footage and facts about my small towns, and I spotted the Dougherty Pop Machine. Apparently, returned from the bandits. I mean, the company workers who came and picked it up. Obviously, I just had to get a pop at the Dougherty Pop Machine.

Bessie and I rolled up toward the pop machine (Bessie was there to document this monumental occasion) and, as we approached, we noticed something a bit unusual. The screen door to the gas station was closed, but the inside door? It’s open. And there’s some noise coming from inside the building. Someone is inside. This may not sound creepy, but imagine walking up to a building you assume to be abandoned and discovering that it’s … NOT abandoned. And you’re too close to turn around. You’re in too deep. As Bessie and I are giving each other the eyes (y’all know the ones- the WTF do we do now ones), whoever- or whatever- is inside the building releases the hounds.

That may be one of the most unflattering photos ever taken of (part of) me, but you can get an idea of what we’re working with here. Now, I’m wondering if I’m going to get murdered by methheads or a couple of Morkies. Or Yorkies? Porkies? Some little yippy-ass dogs. (Morkies and Yorkies are a type of dog, right?)

The ankle-biters are runnin’ zoomies around my ankles and I continue to advance on the DPM, as the owner (?) of the building steps out. I quickly realize that a) I’m bigger than he is, b) he is a methhead, and c) my cousin is filming all of this. I try to act cool. If you’ve been here for more than 37 seconds, you probably know that “acting cool” is not exactly a Top 5 Beverly Goldenstein talent.¹ However, I’m able to avoid an even more awkward situation and ask the small, kind (carnie?) methhead if I can buy a pop out of the pop machine.

He obliges, and we were off to the races.

Now, I really wish I could just show y’all the video, but Bev’s identity would most certainly be revealed. And we just can’t have that. I haven’t struck oil or won the lottery yet and, unfortunately, I still kinda need that day job. What I can do is show you some of the best screen shots of the moment, and provide you with a transcript of the conversation. Bev’s part of the conversation will be in pink, the friendly methhead’s will be in green, the friendly methhead wife’s will be in orange, and Bessie’s will be in gray.

As the hounds attack:
I was not expecting that! OK!
*nervous laughter*

Not recorded, but Bev asks if she can purchase a pop.

I run it for my personal use and I sell ’em… when I’m here.
Oh, all right.
*more nervous laughter*
**friendly methhead wife emerges (she does not have a firearm. that I can see.)**

Friendly methhead opens the pop machine. Yes, opens. Like, with a key. Which, I guess, explains why he only sells things when he’s there…

See, it’s kinda my personal mancave.
Oh, you got beers in here! Can I buy one of those? You got a bottle o’ whiskey in here! This is the best pop machine I’ve ever seen! Can I take a picture of this?
Yes, you can.
*absolute cackles*
Sweet, this is amazing. This is way more than I bargained for!

*Bev and Bessie pause for photos while friend methhead and wife revel in the glory of owning the best pop machine some crazy random lady has ever seen*

OK, can I just get a Diet Coke?
Diet Coke… I don’t think I got any Diet Cokes left. For Diet, I’ve got Fresca…
Or Shandy.
What?
I see a Shandy.
I, I can’t sell ya Shandies, unfortunately.
Um, do you have a Mr. Pibb in there?
No Pibb. I got RC, Fresca, Sprite, Mello Yello…
Mello Yello would be great!