A couple cases of pate in small tins reared themselves in the storage container of the food pantry.
How they got there was impossible to conceive so I didn’t even try.
I discovered them while foraging for items to give away as a sort of bonus to the regular fare. One day it might be Ding Dongs, another canned roast beef, another kale, yet another pate.
I carried the cases to a table. Skeptics doubted anyone would take a single tin.
So, I bet the food pantry volunteer supervisor one dollar on an over/under of five tins distributed during the four-hour shift. She took the under.
Three hours later, I’d moved 24 tins. You haven’t lived until you’ve moved by virtue of sheer marketing and hustling pizzazz, 24 tins of pate at a food pantry event. It’s sometimes quite enjoyable to shill like a carnival barker or television evangelist in the name of pate.
The supervisor paid up. One buck. Cold hard cash. A smacker. I stuck it my pocket. I would somehow use the dollar later in act of good work.