I was going to bitch about someone else’s behaviour here; I really wanted to, I mean, really. But the heat of my fuffing was, I believe now, due largely to my own guit at a related crime I had myself perpetrated, which I will presently relate you.
Here, come sit down and let me tell you the story.
I was in Eddie Rockets, late one night, with someone towering, striped, thoroughly lovely (now also equally thoroughly pass’d).
But anyway, we had, like, two malts.
Anyway, after our sapient colloquy, we were, like, up at the counter, and were paying individually.
As I recall, I had, like, a fifty, but also, like, just twenty cent under the actual cost in change. So, when we were going up, I was, like, “can I take twenty cent from your change to pay my way?” and that was sorted.
Only it wasn’t. Because, he, having paid first, and with change in hand, I saw him tipple the coins into the tips tray by the register.
And I, I…I reached in to the tray and took out the twenty cent piece to pay the balance of my malt, didn’t tip, then walked out…
The memory I have of that action still haunts me, and I have to say the crime committed against me that I was to bitch about pales in comparison.
…mes faux pas dans la vie….