boston market

it started with a phone call, a request. 

"boston market, huh?"  as the pet human grimaced and hung up the phone.   we don't actually dine there ourselves,  we were called upon to do a good deed.

"come on sammy, we are on a mission"

i love adventures, i get to oversee the operation, i poke my nose out, and if the sniff isn't right, i can hide, and become invisible.  if the action get's heavy, of course i can take on whatever evils the pet human can't handle by itself.

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"i'll have the usual"  the guy in front of us said.

behind the counter, a perplexed look from the cashier.  "excuse me?"


again, talismanic, "the usual"

i stuck my nose out of the pet human's hood.  i saw the back of a slick hundred dollar white tee shirt, sweatpants, a muscular fellow, with shades, even from behind him, i could sense he was quite full of himself

mr "i'll have the usual"

this was gonna be good.

mr cool: "you know, the usual"

"i can't really...... i don't .... what......?"  the poor lass had no idea what this clown wanted 

"i'll have my usual order, you know"

i was thinking, no she doesn't.  she obviously doesn't know.

he coaxed her a bit: "i came in here and you know, got the same order three weeks in a row.."

i crawled outright, at this point, and from my perch upon my pet human's shoulder, i gave the cashier, mr. cool, and other patrons "the look" and that mind control thing i do, which told him something like:

"look fool.  anyone who is trying to be cool in a boston market is a moron.  and even if it were cool, you aren't hip, who walks into a dive like this and asks for the usual?  get on with your business"

after much blushing, embarrassment and shuffling of feet, he finally placed his order.

and that is why i don't take my pet to boston market

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