April 22, 2011 by julesjustwrite
“Bar-b-que?” the clerk asks, ringing up the 10 containers of lighter fluid.
I catch the eye of my husband, who’s standing in the magazine aisle, waiting for me to checkout. He’s ripped the black protective plastic wrap off a Hustler and is pawing through it. He slurps his Big Gulp. Scratches his ballooning belly. He raises his face and smiles at me.
I smile back. “A big one.”