I stepped on a dead mouse at Austin's Cafe in Manhattan yesterday. I think I did a pretty good job of staying calm, at least on the outside. As I type this, I try not to think about how squishy its dead little body felt beneath my boot as I sat down for lunch with a friend. The conversation went something like this:
Me: Is that what I think it is?
Saul: No, it's just trash.
Me: I really don't think so.
Saul: Yeah, that's what you think it is.
Then he loudly informed the cashier there was a dead mouse under the table, because if we have to be skeeved out, we're taking everyone down with us.
I still ate the $6 sandwich I'd just bought, though. Six bucks is six bucks.