At the coffee shop, Don drags a stool across the floor with enough screeching to make everyone wince. Climbing onto it like he’s conquering Everest, he announces, “Finally, a throne worthy of me.” The barista smiles politely. “What’ll it be?” Don smirks. “A latte. Extra foam. Unlike you people, I enjoy being above average.” The barista mutters, “Sir, you’re still shorter than the counter.” Don beams. “Details.”
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