The charade continues. Farmer H is still spouting his creative excuses. He came in Tuesday afternoon, took off his coat, and reached into a plastic bag sitting on his chair at the kitchen table. I saw a handful of taffy pieces grasped in his soon-to-be sticky fingers.
"Huh. How are your customers enjoying that taffy you bought to hand out?"
"I don't know. I ain't took it down there to give out yet."
"I know. You keep eating it."
"No. HERE'S the taffy I bought for them." He lifted a plastic bag sitting on the kitchen chair by the door. Put it down. Motioned to the bag on HIS kitchen chair. "This is the taffy I bought for ME yesterday. Because I like it."
Okay. Let the record show that Farmer H is not (now) eating the taffy he bought for his customers. He's eating his own taffy. I'm pretty sure its effect on his health will be the same.
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