How to be a deviant at the grocery store: Lesson 1

At the deli counter:

Me: “Excuse me! Yes, hi. Can I get the the oven-roasted breast?”
Him: “Sure can. How would you like it cut ma’am?”
Me: (without even surveying the numeric cut indicator) “Four.”
Him: “Four?” (deli dude raises his eyebrows) “That’s pretty…”
Me: “Thick? Yes. I know. I like it thick.”
(another deli worker walks by, does a double take at my last statement. I make mischievous eye-contact with him before he goes through the door. He returns, poking his netted head out from behind the kitchen door)
Me: “It shouldn’t matter, but size definitely matters. But don’t get me wrong. It doesn’t matter as much as the taste and the texture.”
(Dumbfounded gawking abounds)
Me: “Hmm. That could all really be taken out of context.”
Him: “I know. And we totally just did.”
Other Him: “Should we laugh about it?”
Me: “Oh, yeah, of course.”
Ha, ha, ha!
Me: “Now give me my breast, please. It’s late, and I’m headed to the nuts.”

End scene.

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