I go out for smoke breaks with Security Steve, a lot. He and I have struck up a kind of odd relationship that is vaguely personal, but distant at the same time. Like, talking about some personal stuff, but he won’t hang out with the group when we go out.
Anyway, so he and I go on our smoke breaks, and I’m always trying to be to cool for school. So, I ask him if he wants a piece of gum, and he says sure. I’m digging around in my bag, looking for the tub-o-gum that I bought (because I apparently have more than one vice), and I finally find it, and I pull it out in a great flourish for him —
By the wrong end.
To my horror, and Security Steve’s great amusement, about 15 pieces of gum erupt from the end of the tub that caught on the edge of my purse and rains down onto the cement, the grass, our shoes. Security Steve is laughing and I’m trying to play it off like, “Hey, I’m too cool for gum, that stuff on the ground’s just residual.” Inside: I’m dying of embarrassment.
So of course, Security Steve’s like, “Thanks for the gum, if I need another piece, I’ll come out and dig through the grass for it.”