Addiction. Hunger. Desperation. I had looked all over, in all the usual places: my desk drawer, my briefcase, the nooks and crannies around my office, nothing. I was damn near close to loosing that which distinguishes us from animals: my ability to reason. Yet it was at this most desperate hour that a single hope shown through the mist of dire circumstance: “my car, maybe I’ll find it in my car! RELEASE THE HOUNDS!”
Fifteen minutes later I triumphantly shook a full, jingling fist of change.
DAMN THEE TO THE FIREY PITS OF MY STOMACH, VILE KIT KAT BAR!