You drive like one of those prissy ladies at lunch who won’t take the last cookie in case somebody else wants it. No, please, please,” Eve said in a high, satisfyingly prissy voice, “you go ahead. Hell with that. I want the cookie, I eat the cookie. Now, give me a for instance and stop sulking.” “I get thirty seconds of sulk time when my driving abilities have been so brutally and unjustly insulted. Besides, taking the last cookie is rude.”
