'Thought I saw,'

[Shelley clarified, wobbling a little on his feet as his stomach threatened to rebel. He regarded the man and tapped his glasses. ]

These aren't the right script anymore. It could be a lobster truck.

[With the luck he was having, they will be flaming kitten lobsters selling pickle flavored soda.]

If it gets bad, we can just go to the hospital and puke on them until they give us coffee.