“Hey, what do you want me to do with this shit?” “They’re vegetables, Shauna. We’re going to cook them and eat them. We wouldn’t do that with shit.” I smile and wink. Shauna continues to glare, but I sense the corners of her mouth draw up in the best approximation of a smile that she can do. I’m


"Bon soir, monsieur! Vous êtes français? Ah… "Deutsche? "Espangol…? "E allora, Voi siete Italiano, ma non me ne posso immaginare…. "I apologise. English! I must be linguistically flexible, as you can imagine in these environs. Then we are countrymen! May I? Thank you. You are, as you seem, a gentleman,