***Dave and I rolled to Schlotsky’s on Friday night for some eats.
Upon climbing back into my truck with the to-go, Dave was rummaging through his bag and came up with some kind of rub-off lottery card thing. (Actually, I don’t know if this had to do with the restaurant or if he just has these sorts of things in his pocket for when the conversation lags. I certainly did not have a gamepiece in my bag.)
Comfortingly (because I do the same thing), he was muttering the instructions for the gamepiece to himself while he read through them. Excerpt:
Dave: “Scratch three of nine? Huh. Rather rub Seven of Nine…”
Pure. Comedy. Gold.
