There's this funny little routine that always happens when I go into Subway.

See, I hardly every buy anything to eat there after hearing so many horrible (though obviously untrue) stories about what happens in the back of Subway, that there's only one thing left that I deem safe to eat regularely:

Cookies. Cookies! COOKIES!

I like cookies. Not as much as pie, but I like cookies. (Pie is the staple of all life.)

So I always buy cookies there. But the problem is that they never have a sign up saying how much the cookies are.

Ever.

So I can never tell how many I can afford.

What I do, right before I leave from buggin' Rye and Mike on the bar shift, is pull what ever loose change I have in my pocket and take it to the counter to which ever of the two boys happens to be free. And I say:

"I have {insert small change amoung here}. How many cookies can I buy with this?"

And, if it's Rye, he glances at Mike and grins, and Mike gives that cheeky little sparkly eyed look he always does and mutters something unhearable to Rye who seems to understand anyway.

And he always names an amount that I /know/ is way too many for the amount I have.

Always.

If it's Mike he just gives me the sparkly eyed cheeky look, and names a number that again is too high for the amoung of money I have.

And I know he's lying. He knows he's lying. I think he puts money in the till to make up the difference when I'm gone, but I'm never really sure.

It's always like that. The dance never changes.

Never changes.

.

Rosie.

Before&After