After stumbling upon a hotel while exploring the skyways in our precious downtown area, a friend of mine swiped two chicken strips, one half eaten, off a room-service trash cart. He also went back for condiments. Shortly thereafter he took me into the city's adult bookstore to make sure that the DVD he'd ordered was still being held. He promised the clerk that he'd be back to pay for it the next day, pay day. The man accused him of having been saying this for an entire month. It appeared to be a kind of running joke, while their cracking lewd comments about the exploitation of pregnant redheads seemed to be a habitual cue for saying goodbye. I'm beginning to feel bitter.