Something Munchy

The phone in my pocket starts to ring. On the other side of the train door the weather is pretty awful and my hopes are raised at the prospect of a lift home.

The number on the phone is unknown, which means the call is coming from home rather than the car. Those hopes begin to fade.

"Hello?"

"Can you get me something munchy on the way home?"

The hopes are lying in tatters around my feet right about now. "Pardon?"

"Can you get me something munchy on the way home?"

"Erm, okay. Any particular sort?"

"No, you know what I like."

"Right."

"Get two."

I manage not to say anything about how this conflicts with certain efforts to be good. "Two?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. See you soon."

I put the phone back in my pocket. Looks like I'll be getting damp, then.

Blimey, the lengths you need to go to to hide a chocolate craving from a three year-old.