I was loaded down with shopping bags and a rotisserie chicken from Costco yesterday when I returned from a few quick errands. Setting down the 12 pack of seltzer water, I fumbled in my pocket for the fob that would admit me to the apartment building. A gray haired guy of about my age waved at me from the lobby, pretended to walk away, and then turned around grinning and pushed open the door.
"I guess I can help you out!" he laughed.
"That's mighty nice of ya!" I said drily.
"Not really," he laughed again. "Where's my payment?"
I jerked my head to the strawberry box balanced in the crook of my arm with the chicken in it. "Do you want a leg or a wing?" I asked.
"Neither!" he answered. "I'm having pizza tonight!"
"I guess I can help you out!" he laughed.
"That's mighty nice of ya!" I said drily.
"Not really," he laughed again. "Where's my payment?"
I jerked my head to the strawberry box balanced in the crook of my arm with the chicken in it. "Do you want a leg or a wing?" I asked.
"Neither!" he answered. "I'm having pizza tonight!"
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