Bernie sat at the table this morning, reading the paper. “Hey, Chet. Here’s a story about some poor cop who got fired because he lost his sense of smell.” I was lying by the door, on my belly, one front leg tucked back under – an extremely comfortable position, as you might imagine – but my ears went up a bit. I waited. Sometimes you just kind of know something is coming next, even if you don’t know what.
Bernie shook his head. “I feel sorry for the guy, but what can you do? I really don’t think I could do the job without my sense of smell.” This was a joke, right? Bernie can be a funny guy. But maybe not, because at that very moment, the toast was burning. Bernie turned the page and sipped his coffee. Soon there’d be smoke.
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