Nine million years ago, at work, we ordered lunch from Fairmount Pizza. As we passed the scrap of paper around, writing what we wanted, I noticed that L. had chosen a buffalo chicken cheese steak. This intrigued me, so I got one too. It was something all right. I ate half of it, and I think that, for the most part, I enjoyed it...I think. But I donated the second half to C. on some other night when she was jonesing for naan.
The dragon felt right at home with the sandwich's color palette.
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