A Dollar in Change For a Pound of Cure
I went to my local grocery store the other day. I needed some shaved deli meat for my famous “Killer Roast Beef Sandwiches.” The deli counter is right there when you walk in and the scene was a typical early evening gotta-get-somethin-for-dinner rush. I counted six people ahead of me but when I pulled my number I found myself the twelfth seeker of the hand sliced grail. A large woman jostled me out of her line-of-display-case site, whining something about not being able to see the Gorgonzola.
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