Today, for some unknown reason, I've been thinking about the Christmas of (I think it was) '93. I was delivering Christmas cards to friends on Christmas Eve. I stopped at the KFC where I used to work to say hey, but also to rustle up some grub, because one of the managers still gave me free food at the end of the night. The doors were locked at 6:00 that night for the holiday, but I was let in by a friend. Ana supplied the grub, Jason and Jason were mopping in the back, hustling to get out of there. A few new faces I didn't recognize milled about.
The snow flurries picked up a bit. I sat in a booth with Ana and one of the Jasons. I believe Becky was there or maybe Steph, too. Without warning somebody screamed. Before we could react, one of the newer employees came rushing into the dining area. The store had just been robbed! While I was eating my dinner!
To corroborate the commotion, the other Jason stumbled in from the back door, blood running down his face. To make a longer story shorter, we spent the next hour and a half answering police questions. I was late getting home. Mom was not happy.
A single of The Cure's "Lovesong" was stuck in my car's tape deck. Yes, I know it's a weird video. It's a weird story, too.
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