Monday, November 23, 2009
Spaghetti and Meatballs
9:00 AM in the airport restaurant, and he was eating spaghetti and meatballs. He loved spaghetti and meatballs, but seldom got a chance to eat these for breakfast. What a treat. Just a few moments ago, Lola had threatened to shoot him if he didn’t stop yelling at her and leave her alone, so he did, and proceed directly to the “On The Fly” CafĂ©, where he ordered his favorite comfort meal.
Richard was careful not to get any of the red sauce on his newly laundered white shirt, and he was also especially careful to glance over his right shoulder, every few minutes, just to be sure that there wasn’t a thin beautiful woman standing behind him with a gun in her lovely right hand. He was pretty sure that if there was anyone on earth who could sneak a handgun past airport security, it would be Lola—handbag or no.
Richard was careful not to get any of the red sauce on his newly laundered white shirt, and he was also especially careful to glance over his right shoulder, every few minutes, just to be sure that there wasn’t a thin beautiful woman standing behind him with a gun in her lovely right hand. He was pretty sure that if there was anyone on earth who could sneak a handgun past airport security, it would be Lola—handbag or no.
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