Tuesday, May 12, 2020

Lobster For One - Part Two

PART TWO
In the last segment, we watched as "The Soused Chef" scored a date with a neighbor lady's breasts. He also drank a lot and babbled on about making Boiled Maine Lobster, with scallops wrapped in bacon. In other words... you really didn't miss much, except one man's sad descent into self-pity and loathing. We continue our post already in progress...
(Rolling previously-recorded videotape of S.C. and "The Fox" leaving apartment, driving to "Pub_ics," and entering supermarket. Studo audience breathlessly watch on large screen, while in actuality, S.C. and The Fox are safely relaxing on a darkened set, drinking and smoking, waiting for their next cue.)



(On video, S.C. does his "standup," while The Fox can be seen in b.g. rapidly pushing a shopping cart, then jumping up and riding the back.)

Okay folks. Here we are at our favorite supermarket. Today, we have to pick up the following items:
1 1/2 pounds bay scallops
1 pkg. of sliced bacon (Applewood Smoked Bacon is the best, but you can always get away with using the cheap stuff, too)
1 bottle of garlic salt or powder
1 lb. salted sweet cream butter
lemon juice in those cute little plastic "squeezit" lemons
two live lobsters
lots of booze
Here we are in the supermarket. Let's pick up all the items we need. Hmm... no sign of Buffy on the register. I know she's working today, because the last time I was here, I had to visit the men's room, and in the hallway I spotted the timeclock with the posted schedules. I took a picture with my cellphone of Buffy's hours...
Oh! I see her in aisle five! She's restocking the vegetable oil. Let's play a joke on her! (Sneaks up behind Buffy and goes "Boo." Startled, Buffy drops an entire case of vegetable oil on the floor. Smashed glass bottles and oil is everywhere. Buffy collapses in a shaking heap.)


Oopsie! (S.C. quickly finishes shopping, and makes a hurried exit out of the store.) Okay, let's go back and start cooking!
(The video ends and S.C. is standing by the island counter in his kitchen with all of his ingredients. The lobsters are trying to escape.)
We're gonna make the scallops wrapped in bacon first. Rinse the scallops and wrap them in the bacon strips. Use a toothpick to hold the little jewels together. Place them in a shallow baking pan. Sprinkle with garlic salt, melted butter or margarine and lemon juice. Broil 6 to 8 minutes or until scallops start to turn golden. Remove from oven and serve with extra melted butter or margarine on the side for dipping.
Now lets cook dem old lobsters. Don't be a-scared of em...


This never happens.
There are two different schools of thought about cooking lobsters. The good folks at PETA would have you do this:
"Step 1. With the lobster sitting where the tail curls towards the table, flatten it out and in one hand grasp the tail where it joins the body. In the other hand, take the knife's point and aim for the place an inch or an inch and a half from between the eyes towards the tail. The blade of the knife should be facing away from your hand that is holding the tail."
"Step 2. Press the point of the knife into the head at that point until the point of the knife goes all the way through the lobster's head to the cutting board, then bring the blade down between the eyes to finish the cut of the head. This kills the lobster as quickly and painlessly as possible."
Then on the other hand... you can do always do this!
(S.C. casually drops both lobsters into the boiling salted water. They scream. The Fox runs away in terror. S.C. takes a drink along with the rest of the studio audience, and then all stand with their heads bowed for a moment of silence.)
Okay! Simmer them for about 10 minutes, or until the lobsters are bright red. Serve with melted butter on the side. Make sure you have some lobster cracking tools handy, and...
(The doorbell rings.) Hmm... I wonder who that could be?
(Audience yells in unison. "Oh NO! It's BUFFY!!!)
(Opens the door) Why it's Buffy! What a surprise! And what can we do for you?
(Buffy tosses an entire pail full of vegetable oil on S.C.!!! He is drenched! Sharr suddenly appears.)
SHARR: Hey, pal! If this is your idea of kinky fun... the date's off! (She turns on her heel and walks out.)
(From off-camera we can hear Buffy laughing hysterically. S.C. looks into the camera in shock, as the scene fades out.)
END
Vootie.

Lobster For Two - Part One

ANNOUNCER: Do you have your drinks ready?

(All-male audience yells "Yeahhh!!!)

ANNOUNCER: Because... here he IS! It's "S.C." himself! It's time for "The Soused Chef!"



(All-male audience stands and applauds, going "Hoot hoot hoot!")

(S.C. staggers out on stage.) Well, hello all you hippy pooples, from me... "The Soused Chef!" (Already "half-soused," and hoisting his 32-ounce plastic "Big Gulp" cup filled to the brim with Gallo® Port out of a giant bottle, toasts his gentle audience.)

(All-male audience toasts back going, "Hoot hoot hoot!")

I hope you've had a happy life so far. As for me... (starts sobbing with the bitter memory of a really lousy life so far. He finishes the wine with a big gulp.)

(Audience goes, "Awwwwww.")

Vodka. I need VODKA!!! (Runs to the liquor cabinet.) Damn!!! It's empty! Who could have taken it??? (Audience yells "THE FOX!")

(He frantically begins searching for a bottle of vodka, that his best friend "The Fox," has cleverly hidden AGAIN, in order to continually "mess with his head." Finally locating it between his mattress and springboard, he discovers an accompanying note...)


Ha HA!!! The wench is MINE now!!! (He takes a big hit off the bottle as the audience cheers.)
Well folks, luckily "The Fox" is with us today...
(Audience claps loudly.)
(We can hear "The Fox" sleeping on the couch, snoring.)
Y'know... a great man once asked, "What doth greater gift can a man doth giveth his woman than a friggin' home-cooked doth meal?
(Someone from All-Male Audience shouts, "Cheaper than an engagement ring, S.C!" Audience laughs.)
(S.C smiles, and gives audience member a thumbs-up.) Why not make that special gal in your life something special, and make a favorite of mine... Boiled Maine Lobsters, along with Scallops wrapped in bacon for an appetizer? That combination of shellfish aphrodisiacs alone, will make any pretty lady who constantly says "No," suddenly scream, "Take me, big boy!"
(Audience goes, "Oooooooo," nodding to each other.)
But, I HAVE to tell you... I DID meet Sharr! Sharr is an elderly lady that just moved in across the hall, taking Starr's old apartment when Starr moved out quite suddenly in the middle of the night...
(Sharr's picture comes up on the big screen overhead monitor. Audience goes, "Ooooooooo," obviously admiring her breast-basting technique. Burly guy in back row exclaims, "I'm in love!")

(Begins flashback sequence with little wavy lines, and other special effects.)
(S.C. Voiceover, with black and white video re-creation) One day, I was watching my favorite show on SPIKE TV, and I started smelling something yummy. Being the inquisitive self that I am, I ran across the hall to Sharr's door and knocked on it.
She answered."Yes? Can I help you?"
"I couldn't help but notice the smell coming from this rather large apartment," I cleverly answered... looking down upon her shapely form. "Breasts?"
"Listen, mister. My breasts don't smell if you're implying..."
"Oh no! I meant you're making turkey breasts! You see, I'm a celebrity chef and have my own show on cable. There are mammary... many cameras stationed in my well-rounded apartment at all times, in case I become inspired to actually nipple... nibble something at 3 am. My best friend "The Fox" crashes there all the time on a huge sofa, because being the titless whack that he is, he doesn't remember where he actually lives! I even have a devoted all-male audience that hangs out on every word I say. But they're very firm, self-supporting and bring their own jugs."
"You're on TV?"
"Yesserree Boobies!"
"What channel?"
"Um... I'm actually on the local public access channel. In between "Polka Dancing With Stanley & DeeDee," and "Karaoke Idol With Carol & Her Touch Of Crap Singers."
"Oh. I don't think I've ever seen it."
"Well... I can see YOU cook, and I cook, so can I interest you in a nice dinner at my place? Say... 43TripleD, I mean eightish?"
"Yeah okay. That would be swell. And your name is?"
"My friends call me S.C."
"What does the rest of the world call you? Hey! Just kidding! Okay, I'll be there! I'm Sharr."
Then Sharr shut the shuttered door to her solitary scene of solice.
(End flashback sequence. Audience applauds loudly. Some guy in the front row yells, "Way to go, S.C!")
Okay! We have a date, and we're gonna be cooking up the damn lobsters! Guess where we're headed off to next?
(Audience yells in unison, "To our favorite supermarket to see Buffy!" S.C. takes a drink.)
And what do we have to do now?
(Audience yells in unison, "Wake up The Fox!" S.C. takes a drink.)
And why is that?
(Audience yells in unison, "Because you got a DUI, and don't have a license any more!")
(S.C. takes a drink and shakes his head in amazement.) Wow! Sharp crowd!
END PART ONE
Join us soon for Part Two, wherein "The Soused Chef" finally gets around to actually cooking the damn lobsters!
Vootie.

Pork Chops Under Pressure

Well, hello all you hippy peeples, from me... "The Soused Chef!" (Already "half-soused," and hoisting his 32-ounce plastic "Big Gulp" cup filled to the brim with Frangelica® "Fruity Red Sangria" out of a box, toasts his gentle readers.)

I hope your New Years Eve was a very happy one, and you enjoyed the Corned Beef, Potato and Cabbage Salad that I told you how to make last time. Mine was... okay... I... (starts sobbing with the bitter memory of a really lousy New Years Eve).

My next door neighbor... a nice elderly lady named "Starr"
When Starr found out I had mistakenly received a delivery of "The Grey Poupon® Gift Pack," which her parents had sent her, and had accepted thinking it was meant for me, she was furious! She grabbed a jar of "Grey Poupon® Savory Honey," and poured the entire contents over my head!

"Poupon YOU!!!" she yelled, as she turned on her high heel and headed out the door! As a parting comment, she turned and said, "No sex for YOU... you... you... copper-colored CONDIMENT COPPER!!!" Then she was gone with a slamming of my front door, leaving me amazed how she managed that tongue-twister perfectly... first try!

(Cries to himself for a few minutes... runs to the box of Sangria, and chugs it directly from the spigot. Slowly regains his composure.)

Vodka. I need VODKA!!! (Runs to the liquor cabinet.) Mama mia! There's no vodka!!! Is this the end of Little Rico??? (He frantically begins searching for a bottle of vodka, that he suspects his best friend "The Fox," has cleverly hidden AGAIN, in order to continually "mess with his head." Finally locating it in the "relatively unused" washing machine, he discovers an accompanying note reading, "You never use this damn machine anyway," and a crudely drawn picture of a hand holding up a middle finger.)

(Victoriously he takes a big swig out of the bottle, with a loud cry of "Dayyy-O!")

Okay. Back to the friggin show. This is a new lousy year and another lousy friggin show, so let's get on with it. (Staggers out of camera range. The floor director pushes him back in front of camera 1.)

(Sees the red light is on and smiles) Today, my gentle readers... we're going to make a personal favorite of mine... Pork Chops! Except, we're going to be doing them in a Pressure Cooker! I find that my recipe delivers a very tender and flavorful chop, that will have your guests screaming, "Give us more o' dem damn CHOPS," while you murmer under your breath, "I'LL give y'all a damn chop!"


The damn chops.
Yum yum! Don't these babies look good! You can serve them with anything you'd like, but I like to serve them with buttered egg noodles, apple sauce and a hearty mug of ice-cold beer! Really nice comfort food for those who need comforting.

Like me.

If you've never used a pressure cooker before, do NOT be afraid! Pressure cookers have come a long way from Grandma's day, when she would freak out the entire family by simply canning tomatoes!


This scene never happens today.
This is a nice new pressure cooker. They have a lot of safety devices on them that will prevent your food... and yourself, from making a hole in the ceiling. Isn't it darling? It's from Stellar Cookers, and it's a really fine cooker. If something ever goes wrong (which it won't), you have the company's permission to yell, "STELL-AR!!!"
The Stellar PC01.
Sorry. Just a little joke. I couldn't resist. (Has a gulp of vodka.)
Here's what we need to pick at our favorite supermarket:

Pkg. of Pork Chops
Orange Juice
Dark Brown Sugar
Pkg. of Egg Noodles
Jar of Apple Sauce

Drive down to the market, and pick up what you need. This is my favorite supermarket, because I get a kick out of reading the sign at night...


Heh heh.
Go to the friendly, smiling teenaged gal, with a name badge reading "Buffy," at the front register, and pay for all this. While scanning your purchase, Buffy will invariably ask you, "Did you find everything okay?" If you want to be a real smartass, you can answer, "Well, Buffy... I can't figure out for the life of me, why you have the cans of motor oil in the jelly aisle," leaving Buffy with a very confused look on her face, while you attempt to snap her picture with your cellphone, and giving yourself a cheap chuckle as you walk out.

The Buffster.
Okay. We're back in the kitchen. Why not put on a music video to play while we're cooking?

Put a tiny bit of oil (vegetable... NOT 10-W30) in the pressure cooker, with the cover OFF!!! Brown the pork chops evenly on both sides. Remember, we don't want to completely cook our chops here... just lightly sear them a bit. Take those suckers out of the pressure cooker, and dust some dark brown sugar on both sides. Pour about a cup of orange juice into the cooker.
Place the pork chops back in, put the cover and pressure weight on (read the instructions on the cooker) heat the burner to high, until that weight starts dancing around like crazy. Lower the burner to medium, until that baby jiggles just a few times per minute. Cook for about 12-15 minutes depending on the thickness of the chops. Follow your cooker directions on how to cool the damn thing down. When all pressure has been released, open the cover and gaze at your new creation. You should have fork-tender, fallin' off the bone, pork chops! Use a little of the liquid in the cooker as a nice, sweet sauce.

Serve with buttered egg noodles, apple sauce and a hearty mug of ice-cold beer.

Enjoy!

Your friend in cooking,
The Soused Chef



Hmm... there's someone knocking at my door! Why, it's little Buffy... my favorite supermarket cashier, and she's holding a big cream pie from the Bakery Section!!! How nice! Is that for... SPLAT!!!

Jack's Back

Jack groaned, and slowly opened one eye. Then closed it. Then he opened the other eye. Then closed it. The incessant sound from the digital alarm was doing its job. Jack murmured one soft word, "Damn." Pulling the blanket over his head, he laid in bed, mentally counting the high pitched, irritating electronic beeps. The small, white plastic gadget was in actuality, a combination alarm clock, and pedometer (with convenient belt clip), that Jack had received four Christmases ago as a gift from Bernie. Jack had been pleasantly surprised at first, but had been abruptly halted in his reverie, when he spotted an advertising message for "Viagra," boldly imprinted on the top. Indeed, Bernie had presented Jack with something he had evidentally gotten for free!

On top of that, the alarm had been preset for four-thirty every morning, and Jack had no idea how to reset it, as Bernie had conveniently "lost" the instructions. So, for four years, Jack had been awakened from a sound sleep at precisely four-thirty (or three-thirty, depending if daylight savings time was in effect), each and every morning.

Jack had attempted to hide it in the most remote locations of his apartment, wrapping it in thick coats and blankets, but that damnable noise, had undoubtedly been scientifically selected, to penetrate the eardrum, no matter where it was. It was like a blog post, he once had read online, by some guy passing himself off as "The Silver Streak," about some old man's irritating Timex wristwatch. The infernal device could have been located in Russia, and folks in Alaska could have heard it, you betcha!

Finally, after noting on the tiny greenish-gray screen, that it had taken seven thousand, five-hundred and thirty-nine steps to relocate it, Jack had simply given up, and just listlessly tossed in on the carpet next to his air mattress, where it bounced once, neatly clicked off one more step on the display, and came to rest permanently in the corner, where it had remained, gathering dust, for three years and ten months.

Eyes closed, Jack mentally finished counting the sixty beeps, that would continue for a full minute, when it would mercifully cease, until it would beep back to life the following morning. Jack finally opened both eyes, and sat up on his inflatable air mattress, pulling the heavy blue blanket to the side. He stood up in the dark, small bedroom of his sparsely furnished townhouse apartment, and slowly plodded across the hall to the bathroom. "Well, might as well get the old morning reading done," he muttered to himself.

Roughly seven minutes and twenty-two seconds later, after taking care of his basic bodily functions, brushing his teeth, shaving, and combing what was left of his thinning brown hair, Jack emerged fully awake. He slowly made his way to the end of the hall to the spare bedroom, where his computer was located, nearly tripping over an empty bottle of "Boone's Farm Pineapple Apple Mango" wine, that he had neatly polished off the night before.

He settled into the comfortable black vinyl swivel chair, that he had purchased on sale at the local Wal-Mart Super Center for $39.99, and faced the small black desk ($35.99, unassembled from Wal-Mart, which had taken him three days to assemble). On the desktop, neatly sat his Yakisoba 17-inch, Flat Panel HD Monitor and a small shelf to the right was host to his Yokudishu Desktop F2210 Ink Jet Printer (on sale for $29.99, also from Wal-Mart). Jack flicked on the small gooseneck lamp, (found in a dumpster) which was also attached to the shelf. Below that, sat Jack's pride and joy; a Yakisoba MT-88 Computer Tower (Ditto from Wal-Mart, $499.99). Pushing the little blue button that started the hard drive whirring, Jack waited as the screen flickered to life, and went through the dutiful Windows Vista booting-up process.

He sat back, and gazed at the poster of Rush Limbaugh, photographed smoking a huge cigar, which was hanging by two thumbtacks on the plain, eggshell painted wall. In actuality, Jack had no political convictions whatsoever, as he considered the democratic process "too complex." Jack however, enjoyed calling into Rush's show at least once a week, just to say, "Rush, you're a great American," primarily to hear his own voice on the radio. Rush's staff had gotten used to their frequent caller, and would always put Jack right through to the "big guy." Sometimes, Jack would add, "and Rush, if you ever ran for President, I'd vote for you six times!" causing the rotund, radical, right-wing extremist commentator, to erupt in gales of raucous laughter, followed by loud coughing fits. Oh well... at least for now, the free poster was covering an unsightly stain on the wall, that had occurred when Jack had absent-mindedly shook a can of beer before opening it.

Eight minutes later the desktop opened, as the customized wallpaper that Jack had installed a year ago, with the invaluable assistance from the seven-year old kid in the apartment next door, sprung into view. There, on the bright screen were the ridiculously, grinning full-color images of Jack's girlfriend, Arlene and her sleazy brother, Bernie happily eating a Pu-Pu Platter, with arms entwined, at "Chang's Chinese Garden," which Jack had been forced to photograph on New Year's Eve, two years ago. Jack had also been forced to pay the entire bill, when Bernie gleefully announced he'd "forgotten his wallet." Jack had unsuccessfully tried to delete the picture on many occasions, especially after he and Arlene would have an explosive argument, and she would tearfully storm off, back to the house in which she and her brother shared. The "whiz-kid" from next door could be of no help, as he had been taken away by Federal Officers one morning, after repeatedly hacking into the NORAD main computer, nearly causing an unwarranted nuclear strike against Norway, because the kid had heard, it was the number one country in the world, to live in.

Jack checked his e-mail. He read his inbox to find nine entries... all spam. Spam! Whenever he saw any reference to Spam, he thought of Arlene, and whenever he saw Arlene, the pinkish image of a chunk of Spam intruded upon his wretched consciousness. Arlene. Damn Arlene. And her brother. Naturally, Arlene's brother. Bernie. Damn him too. Damn both of them. Well... better check the old bank account online, and see if there's enough...

Suddenly, and quite unexpectedly, Jack's cell phone played a tinny version of "Tiptoe Through The Tulips," that Bernie playfully had programmed in, and Jack could never quite successfully remove. Jack reached for the phone, which he had plugged into the charger overnight. As he pulled the phone to his ear, the cord snagged onto what Jack had thought was an empty can of "Milwaukee's Cheapest," and watched as warm, stale beer spilled out onto his keyboard, causing the monitor screen to rapidly change into a kaleidoscope of bright colors, until finally settling on the uncomfortable hue of black.

"Damn!" Jack shouted. Taking a minute to collect himself, he turned his attention to the irritating phone and its repeating music which was getting louder, and louder. He flipped open the cover, and saw the unmistakable number of Arlene on the little screen. He pressed the send button.

"Hello," Jack weakly murmured. He heard the unmistakable sound of Arlene's whiny voice through the tiny speaker.

"Jack? Hi. This is Arlene." Jack wondered why, after thirty years of an on-again, off-again relationship, would she still feel the need to identify herself? Jack heard a strange crackling sound emanating from the computer tower, and watched as a puff of black smoke emerged from the DVD drive. Having gasped its last breath, the machine finally, and agonizingly died. Jack could only stare at the black metal cabinet, his mouth hanging open.

"Jack? Jack? Are you there?" the whiny voice kept repeating.

Jack could only let out a soft "unghh."

"Oh, good. Bernie said you'd probably be up by now." Good old Bernie, Jack thought. Arlene continued, "What time are you coming by to pick us up?"

Jack, shook his head in bewilderment. "Us? Who's Us?"

"Bernie and me, silly. You know we have to be at the ship by eight."

"Yeah, but why is your brother coming?"

"Well, Bernie's offered to drive your car back to our place, so you won't have to pay twenty dollars a day for parking. Isn't that just great of him? He's such a doll!"

"Hmm... well, twenty dollars a day is kinda steep..." Jack had to agree on that one, at least.

"Kewl beanz!!! Well, we figure, it'll take about an hour to get to the pier, and I think we should be one of the first in line to sign in. Then we can find our room, and just unwind! Oh, and Bernie said to stop off, and pick up a six-pack and a bottle of Cold Duck. And two packs of Marlboros. Wait... okay... THREE packs of Marlboros. Oh yeah... my period is about to start, so get a pack of Tampax. See ya in a bit! Bye."

Jack reached over, and picked up his cheap watch, which was resting near the now-defunct computer monitor. Five AM. Damn! Better get packing! Jack cursed himself, as he rummaged through everything in his closet, and threw clothing into the awaiting open suitcase on the floor. Finally, he grabbed the plastic zippered bag that held the rented tuxedo, for the "Captain's Table" event onboard. He ran down the stairs, and bolted through the front door to his car. Throwing everything in the trunk, he threw open the driver's side door, and sat down.

Suddenly realizing, in his haste to pack, he had forgotten to get himself dressed, as he was now sitting in his boxer shorts, he uttered a quick, "Damn!" and, ran back to the trunk, opened the suitcase and threw on a pair of tan Dockers, a yellow short sleeve shirt. with a little alligator on the pocket, that he had held onto since 1980, white socks, and a pair of sandals. Slamming the trunk lid, he dove into the driver's seat, started the car, backed up, and peeled out of the parking lot like a madman.

Jack's favorite convenience store, was only located a block-and-a-half from his apartment, plus it also sold the cheapest gas in town. "Might as well fill up with the old gasolino," Jack thought, as he pulled up, and opened the car door. Swiping his debit card through the face of the pump, he casually leaned on the trunk, as he began filling his 1992 Oldsmobile Embassy, as he reached inside his pocket for a Marlboro.

Suddenly, the relative quiet across the concrete pad, was broken by a high-pitched woman's voice emanating from the outdoor speakers. "Good morning, Poochie Lips!"

Damn! It was Melanie, the short, rather overweight manager of "Vinnie's Kwik Stop-And-Run." For six months, she had been invading his private moments with the gas pumps, with her loud, abrupt, flirtatious commentary. Jack looked over at the window, where Melanie was giving him a cute little wave, as eight other people stared at Jack. He had attempted to try different hours of the day, to stop at "Vinnie's," but she always seemed to be working behind the register. Jack had often wondered, if she actually LIVED in that store!

A few minutes later, Jack finished topping off the gas tank, replaced the nozzle, and dutifully waited for the receipt that never appeared. Damn! "Well... gotta go in anyway, to spend even more money," he mused. He sauntered across the concrete pad, and made his way to one of the glass double doors, that made a little "ding dong" sound when he opened it. Melanie was flirtatiously leaning across the counter, her straight long brown hair, carefully draped over her plump shoulders, for maximum seductive impact. "Good morning handsome," she purred. Jack could only manage a half-hearted wave and quick smile, as he made his way to the beer and wine cooler.
Opening the door, Jack purused the offerings, finally grabbing a six-pack of "Milwaukee's Cheapest," and a bottle of Cold Duck that was on sale. He approached the awaiting Melanie, and placed the items on the counter. Still smiling, she started ringing up the totals. "Will there be anything else?" she whispered demurely.

"Oh yeah," Jack said. "Um... Marlboros. Two, no... three packs... no, make it a carton." Jack had quickly considered the possibility of not being able to buy cigarettes on the ship or worse, having to pay highly inflated prices.

Melanie turned and bent over to retrieve the carton from a lower shelf, seductively shaking her large rear end at him, in the process. Turning back and placing the cigarettes on the plastic countertop, she pursed her lips. "Is there anything else you need, baby?"

Jack thought for a minute. Damn! There WAS something else! Finally, it hit him. "Oh yeah," he blurted out. "I need a case of Tampax!" Melanie's eyes popped open in surprise. Jack corrected himself. "I mean a pack... a box... you know. However they come." Melanie laughed, and Jack watched her waddle over to the health and beauty aids aisle, to return a few seconds later with a small blue box.

"What am I gonna do with ya, Jack?" Melanie asked in feigned resignation. She totalled up the purchases and took his debit card. Swiping it through the machine, she handed it back repeating, "Yep. What am I gonna do with ya? Type in your pin. You know the drill, big guy." Carefully studying his face for a second, she murmured teasingly, "I know what I'd LIKE to do with you..." Jack typed in his secret pin of zero zero zero zero, and glanced up into her eyes. She looked like a starving moose. Finally she sighed, and carefully placed his items into two white plastic bags. "Well... have a nice... whatever."

Jack nodded, and quickly made his way through the door, and back to his waiting car. Sliding into the left hand seat, he allowed himself to reflect on what had just happened. Melanie! That poor, poor creature obviously loves me, Jack thought. Unfortunately, she did not meet Jack's "ideals" of physical perfection in a woman. Maybe if she lost two hundred pounds, he muttered to himself, as he departed for Arlene and Bernie's house, lighting the first Marlboro of the day.

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