Don’t Ever Trust a Man Whose First Name’s the Same as His Last

“Don’t ever trust a man whose first name’s the same as his last,” I said.  “Eddie Edwards did me in, back when I lived in Petawawa.”

I wasn’t in Petawawa anymore.  Chloe and me we were on luxurious deck chairs beside the luxurious pool at the luxury condo they’d just opened down the street from my apartment.  The condo that looked like a shopping mall, and that was our alibi.

“We thought this was a shopping mall,” we’d practiced saying to each other back at my apartment.  “We didn’t know we weren’t supposed to be here.”

We sipped complimentary lemonade and tried hard not to look like we were looking too hard at the girls in their bikinis and their still papery winter skin.

“Now you go,” I said.  “What sort of wisdom have you gained in your 26 years?”

She said: “The best vitamin to help making friends is B1.”

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