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Uncle Crappy

words. pictures. beer.

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I love Lulu’s Noodles. I don’t eat there often enough.

It seems like we drive by the Craig Street restaurant at least once a week, but we’re usually either on the way to somewhere else or we have something else in mind for dinner. I always look a little wistfully as we drive by, and Mrs. Crappy usually promises we’ll go back soon.

- – -

So last night, I gave Mrs. Crappy a call when I was on the way back to the office after the meeting I was covering had concluded. I griped a little bit about work, and she told me what she had done with her evening, mostly that she made her weekly trip to the main library in Oakland to drop off some stuff and pick up more.

I asked what she had done for dinner, she started to sound sheepish on the phone. Guilty. She said, “I was bad.”

I started teasing her about getting chili dogs at the O or some other junk food we’ve been half-heartedly trying to avoid.

“I went to Lulu’s,” she said quietly.

She went to Lulu’s. Without me. And then proceeded to tell me how good the scallion pancakes were.

Could someone pull this knife out of my back? I can’t quite reach it.

- – -

Retribution for this grave betrayal is required. And here’s where I need your help. I’ve come up with a handful of options by which I can get back at Mrs. Crappy for this nearly unforgivable transgression. I hope I can count on you to pick your favorite option. Or if you have a better idea, feel free to leave it in the comments.

And don’t worry about me.  *choke* I’ll be … fine.

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