I have a mouthful of veggie burger when Benicio asks my opinion of Heigel's Fifth Law of Physics. We are having our monthly High End Intellectual Discourse group at a high end diner. I almost choke trying to reply. He shakes his head. I'm trying to impress Paula, an Impressionist with 14 exhibits on her resume.
She expounds on that subject while I try to get a word in edgewise. I know nothing about painting, but intellectuals mask their ignorance with superb vocabulary. At some point a piece of dill pickle I'm chewing flies out and lands in Paula's hair.
Everyone sees it. God, can this get any worse?
Just then, a group of drunken writers from the library enter and begin getting obnoxious. Maybe if I stood up to them Paula would forgive me. I pick a tiny woman poet I know vaguely and get in her face. She knees me in the groin. I collapse.
I don't even like dill pickles.
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