I slipped quietly back into the warehouse
, the dirty brown paper bag in my arms. I could see the raised eyebrows questioning my package
and let a little smile slip out. Inside was one of those large pickle jars
suspended inside. It's amazing what one can buy on the South side of Chicago
for the right amount of money. I have never enjoyed cigarettes
, but it seems to me like I should have one now, stuck lightly to my lower lip while I laugh around it. I glance up to see Rob's
face break into a glowing grin
as he figures out what is in the jar.
Senor, necesito comprar un pene. Ryan hands out the com gear and I slip the head set over my ears and adjust the mic to my mouth.
"Enough." I leave the rest of my questions aside and put the jar underneath some oil rags in the trunk. I also stopped at Taco Bell on my way back and spent the next few tossing burritos to my companions. It was a good day to be alive.
--Letters from a Savior; Offer for a few--