I was born to suffer.
So fending for my poor old lonesome self, I find myself at the mercy of the kindly but ESL staff at the Dog House. I point to the Combo Tail Wagger sign and say "with German Shepards."
They ask about the drink. Diet Coke, I say.
I paid my $5.99 inclusive of the tax, and crawled back to my car, the AC doing it's job too early in this spring.
The Diet Coke.
Yeah. They gave me catsup any way. They did not pronounce it cat-soup as I might. Ket-chup like most people say.
Bro squeezed a handfull of suck packets in our mother's kitchen some 35 years ago. We find traced of the spattered catsup to this day.
You do know now that I'll live longer than you, what with bring filled with preservatives.
Perhaps there is some balm in Gilead.