Give me one of those bags, Musette says to the waitress. I wanna take these leftovers home to my dog.

She’d asked her earlier if I could get a cutlet in my basket instead of a boned piece, but I made the her scratch that request.

It wasn’t my idea. I’d just been thinking about getting that biscuit because of its bonelessness, but I’ll take what you’ve got because I don’t like to cause a fuss or ruckus. I go with the flow. Easy peasy. The best patron you’ve had in a while. Really polite, not demanding, a better tipper than Andrew apparently, who noticing that in tipping off the taxed amount. I didn’t know it’s something not frequently done.

Oh yeah. It’s a great debate amongst diners. It’s totally fine, just probably not the norm.

Whatever. I’m a good guy, still a little freaking over the four dollar tip I gave The Castro’s deliverer, but he was smiling about it. He sure liked me more. It was an accident, but it’s what Christ would have done. It felt good, albeit a little painful. I’m better for it. It was good for me.

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