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  • mariokiefer

Sunday, Sunday

. . . and this is why I drink:

RIC: I know that you are still hurting and can’t cook. I will pick up dinner, tonight.

ME: Sounds good.

RIC: What do you want?

ME: I am good with whatever you’d like.

RIC: I will get what YOU want. I am here to take care of YOU.

ME: Anything I want?

RIC: Yes.

ME: How about barbecue?

RIC: Ummm . . . too far away

ME: Scholtzsky’s?

RIC: They stopped serving the sandwich I like.

ME: Chinese?

RIC: I’m not in the mood.

ME: Fish & Chips?

RIC: Fried food doesn’t travel well.

ME: Hamburgers?

RIC: Too heavy.

ME: Do you want me to make spaghetti?

RIC: I don’t want you to go to any trouble. I know you are still hurting.

ME: I will manage.

RIC: That would be great.

ME: Open the wine.

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