ethel pokes her head into the music store , shyly scans the inventory from the entrance of the place with a foriegn curiosity in emerald eyes ; walls upon walls of music & bands . some she's heard of & even listened to . most are unfamiliar . finally , after a steadying breath , she'll cross the stores threshhold , flashes the man at the register a smalltown polite smile . among the grungy decor & posters & album covers depicting " satantic " images , she's well aware that she sticks out like a sore thumb in her clean , pressed calf length skirt & modest blouse ; she'd much rather be sporting some cutoffs & an old tee with the neckline snipped out . . . but as the preacher of shady grove , she has an image to uphold .
ethel huffs to herself . she's hopelessly lost in here without a clue where to start . turning back to the man at the counter , she pulls out a friendly smile . ❛ 'scuse me , um . . . i came here lookin' for some new music , but . . . problem is , this ain't really my scene . i could use a little help . ❜