![]() ![]() “You wanna screw the sandwich?” he asked snidely as he started on his pepper and egg one. So swinging by the beef place was the least he could do. I’d even broken up a fight over ketchup between a native and an out-of-towner while I was there and still managed to deliver the goods. The day before, on our way to the same stakeout, I’d stopped and gotten him hot dogs at Budacki’s-Polish with the works, just how he liked it. No amount of grumbling was going to get in the way of my happiness. “This better be worth the long drive outta the way,” Ian groused. Just opening it up, with the smell that came wafting out… I was salivating. It could be argued that an Italian beef sandwich with sweet peppers was not, in fact, a gourmet meal, but anyone who said that had obviously never had one. I hated stakeouts they were so boring, and I tended to use them as an excuse to eat good instead of the alternative. Since we were out in Elmwood, where we never were, I’d begged and pleaded with Ian to stop at Johnnie’s Beef and buy me a sandwich before we got to the house we were sitting on. ![]() ![]() I COULDN ’ T control the whimper of delight. ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |