Bill was wrestling with his undercooked chicken. “Wow,” I remarked while examining my own plate. “I don’t think I can eat this.” “I know. It’s gross,” he conceded. “But it’s free, so I scarf down seconds each night.” “As a dog returneth to his vomit,” I said, while making the sign of the cross in the air in front of me. “Amen,” he agreed with his mouth full, and toasted me with his 7Up can.

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