“Sure,” Doc said, “but if you’re gonna be paranoid, how about all this chocolate, man . . . ?” “Oh. Then . . . maybe we’d better put in a few more, you know, like, innocent-looking items. . . .” By the time they got to the checkout, they had somehow acquired an extra hundred dollars’ worth of goods, including half a dozen obligatory boxes of cake mix, a gallon of guacamole and several giant sacks of tortilla chips, a case of store-brand boysenberry soda, most of what was in the Sara Lee frozen-dessert case, lightbulbs and laundry detergent for straight-world cred, and, after what seemed like
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