“I got my hand stuck in a pickle jar,” Griffin said, holding up the jar in question and raining pickle juice all over the floor. “How…? Why…?” Riley began. “I didn’t know you were supposed to use a fork. My pickles always arrive on my plate with my truffle mayonnaise. Not to be a jerk, but poor people mayonnaise is terrible. I fed the sandwich to the dog that looks like a lion.” “Christ,” Nick muttered. “Trust me, after this afternoon, a sandwich is the least of our worries,” Riley said. “And so is an idiot with a pickle jar stuck on his hand,” Weber said. Griffin held up the jar and banged it
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