The group in the booth next to us at the Malt Shop

Hey,” the dark-haired guy exclaimed; “any­body here try to eat Crisco?”

The two girls gri­maced in uni­son, but the blond guy bobbed his head. “Oh, man, that shit is nasty!”

I dun­no,” the first guy — the jock­i­er-look­ing of the two — con­tin­ued. “I mean, it looks like Kool Whip, but you know—”

—it’s not,” his prep­pi­er bud­dy concluded.

Yeah, I know: it’s not.” The two nod­ded affirm­ing­ly at each oth­er while the girls chewed and smiled.

Prep­py Guy took a slurp of his malt, then ges­tured with it. “One time, when I was a kid, I walked up to the kitchen counter, and there was this can which I assumed to be tuna, so I tast­ed it, and it was just godaw­ful. And upon fur­ther inspec­tion it was cat food.”

The oth­er three joined in a cho­rus of groans, then laughed.

Any­body ever eat a dog bis­cuit?” Jock Guy asked. The oth­ers all shook their heads. Con­ver­sa­tion lulled for a minute as they all stared at the tele­vi­sion mount­ed on the far wall.

Jock Guy took big bite of his burg­er and after a cou­ple of quick chews began to talk around it. “Did any­body see that Date­line about those two guys out in Ari­zona, who got like two thou­sand dol­lars worth of like, tubes and beakers and stuff, and they made like, six­teen mil­lion, just mak­ing the shit right in their dorm room?”

Wow, that’s quite a profit.”

Yeah, and the only rea­son they got caught was that they bragged about it to oth­er kids; that and they filmed them­selves not only mak­ing it, but tak­ing it.”

Prep­py Guy shook his head sad­ly. “How can some­one be that smart, and do some­thing that dumb?”

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