The Second Bakery Attack
t ster made a y bucket being smas, but t table ill out cold. talk about a sound sleep: I seen anyt in years.
quot;ty Big Macs. For takeout,quot; said my wife.
quot;Let me just give you t; pleaded t;Ill give you more to mess up my accounts and--quot;
quot;Youd better do w s; I said again.
t into tcogetarted making ty Big Macs. tudent grilled t them up. Nobody said a word.
I leaned against a big refrigerator, aiming to patties s, sizzling. t smell of grilling meat burroo every pore of my body like a so my blood and circulating to t corners, togetically sealed o its pink walls.
A pile of ed to grab and tear into t I could not be certain t suc ent ive. I o . In t kitcarted sing under my ski mask.
t tgun. I scratctle finger of my left itco an ear to bot couldnt ally, because I y on, but t kno and I about to tell them.
My ed t to to a bag.
quot;o do t; t; you just take ts ting ty Big Macs?quot;
I shook my head.
My ;ere sorry, really. But t any bakeries open. If ttacked a bakery.quot;
t seemed to satisfy t least t ask any more questions. them.
quot;ere stealing bread, not; sed , sort of like nodding and sort of like srying to do bot time. I t I .
My o a post as expertly as if stons. S, or if anyone ed to go to toilet, but no one said a , s . tomers at table ill asleep, like a couple of deep-sea fis aken to rouse them from a sleep so deep?
e drove for a y parking lot