Dear Mean-Mug Sticky Fingers,
I'm sure you're normally a very nice person who smiles all the time and remembers to pay for things, right?
Since you didn't leave a tip on your drinks, I'm assuming you were just out of money. And the cookie was calling to you, 'Take me... I'm delicious... You must have me!'
So, when I had my back to the room for half a minute, it was the perfect opportunity. I turned around in time to see you walking out the door like a sneaky Winona Ryder ninja stuffing your face with stolen cookie.
Does it taste better that way? Were you harkening back to your days of youth when you'd jack cookies from your grandma's house? Maybe it was the two glasses of wine you nursed for three hours that emboldened you?
Well, wild-thing, here's a TIP: This isn't your grandma's house.
Hope the heartburn was worth it.
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