The Bad Samaritan

At lunchtime today I mooched around the nearby shop as I often do.

The ladies know me now and there is Banter.

At the till queue I made an impulse buy of a Cadbury’s Ripple. I couldn’t help it; it was right there in front of me, and I was trapped in the queue.

However, the lady at the till tutted and put it back, asking,

“Don’t you know that this is 63p?”

I raised an eyebrow to show I can be reckless with funds when I want.

“Come on!” she declared, and dragged me by the hand into the aisles.

We returned with a three-pack of Ripples. As she rang it up, she winked,

“Three for a pound”

As I left, I realised that this is why dieting is impossible. There are just too many offers.  I just wanted a small choccy fix, and now I am armed to the back teeth with the stuff. But what can you do? You can’t say anything or she’d get upset.  She was trying to do me a favour, a good turn.

That’s the trouble with Good Samaritans. They are usually the only ones that feel better.

When I got back to the office, I offered the Ripples out, explaining that I got a deal. I managed to offload them all.

None for me, but I’m a pound lighter. Probably in both meanings of the word.

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