This weekend Johnny and I were having lunch in a little deli. We were enjoying our turkey and swiss and tuna melt sandwiches, respectively, when from the table behind me I heard what was the unmistakable sound of someone squeezing an almost empty mustard bottle. You know that sound…that farty wet splattery sound.
Johnny looked up at me, quizzically. I was feeling playful, so I grimaced and said “excuse me”, thinking he’d laugh.
His eyes narrowed. “Was that YOU”?!?!
I’m still not sure if I was more insulted or flattered.