“I want to speak to your manager!” “I’m the owner. You’ve already reached the top of the totem pole, I’m afraid.” “Then I’ll call the police!” “And tell them what?” I tried, I really did, but in the end I could not quite contain my bemused smile. “That you cheated on your wife so she went to an occult shop and bought a magical potion to wet your wick?” I waved my hands in the air in what I hoped was a witchy way. “A purchase she made, might I add, of her own free will, from an upstanding, tax-paying business owner — that would be me — who you then threatened, unprovoked, in full view of a
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