Danny looked at the plate in front of him. Alice had not been kidding in her stated mission of shaping him up. A lone chicken breast nestled in a bed of steamed spinach, unadorned by the palate-rescuing qualities of butter.
The cat, a habitual stealer of food from plates, jumped up on the table, sniffed the plate and jumped off again. He shot Alice a filthy look.
“Blast that SuperParkingAttendant Convention™ uniform,” Danny thought to himself. “And I'm not fat anyway, just big-boned as my dear, departed mum always used to say.”
The cat, a habitual stealer of food from plates, jumped up on the table, sniffed the plate and jumped off again. He shot Alice a filthy look.
“Blast that SuperParkingAttendant Convention™ uniform,” Danny thought to himself. “And I'm not fat anyway, just big-boned as my dear, departed mum always used to say.”
