Not at me. What she was staring at was the stuff on the coffee table: the six empty Schlitz beer cans and the empty carton that had contained a jumbo deluxe Guido’s House Special pizza with everything on it including anchovies, shrimps, and garlic olives.
I got the stare transferred to me soon enough, at which point it became an accusing glare. “Pizza and beer!” she said. “You broke your diet!”
I gave her a sheepish grin across the distended, the eggless, the satisfyingly full mound of my belly.
“Well?” she demanded. “Don’t just lie there looking fat and complacent. Haven’t you got anything to say?”
“Burp,” I said.
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