"I'll pay," he told us, pointing to his giant wad of 100 bills.
I'd never seen Mark carry any money, let alone enough to stuff in a money clip disguised as a stack of Benjamins. The clip was heavy, made out of a hard plaster, and unwieldy, but hilarious. I couldn't imagine anyone carrying it around for real.
"Where'd you get that?" Edra asked, and he said he found at camp. Mark said that if he ever got mugged, he'd simply toss the money clip in one direction to fool the robber, then run away in the other direction. I said that the thunk it made while crashing on the concrete might tip off the robber that it was a fake, but Mark disagreed.
Mark was on fire that night. He put on his own little comedy show, and was cracking us up. When Edra told him she could read his mind, he said, "Oh yeah? Guess what I'm thinking about now?"
She studied him for a moment, and as she was about to answer, he yelled, "NUTMEG!" I have no idea where that came from! Edra did admit that no, she had no idea that was what he was thinking about.
But at least he was a little more observant of the people around us that night. Usually he doesn't notice anything but his dinner plate, but when the people next to us got up to leave, Mark pointed them out.
"Look, they're doing a conga line!" he said excitedly. He pointed to a tall man who was walking with his hands on his wife's shoulders in front of him.
I smacked myself in the forehead--I'd noticed that couple already.
"They aren't doing a conga line!" I hissed at Mark. "That man is blind!"
I explained he was using the woman to guide him out of the tiny restaurant, and Mark laughed, not the least bit embarrassed.
"Oh!" he said. "Well, how am I supposed to know?"
I'm beginning to think that fancy restaurants and pleasant dinner companions are waaaaay overrated. My own companion may be a little rough around the edges, but he is definitely entertaining.
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