A funny thing happened to me in Boston the other day. As I was going on my merry way near the Commons a nervous-looking fellow came up to me and asked me, “I got mushrooms, you want to buy some mushrooms?” Not catching on right away, I answered, “No, thanks, but do you have any peppers?”
I guess it’s a good thing that I’m not so old or square yet that drug dealers feel comfortable accosting me on the street. Or maybe it’s not so good. Probably depends on the neighborhood I’m in at the time. For what it’s worth, I immediately ran away, took the train home, locked myself in my house and have not come out since. As a result, I’m out of food and am sort of hungry for mushrooms.
