“Tell me again, why we are dumpster diving?” Stanley asked.

“Too many nuts in the sack, Bruno”, Sam quipped.

Unlike Sam, the truth somehow evaded my ex-wife for years. Multiple Personality is what the psychiatrists call it. After a while she could no longer deny I was just plain crazy with a capital C.

“I’m not Bruno,” Stanley huffed as he pulled us into the dumpster.

“I don’t care if you’re Britney Freakin’ Spears! Just find us some food, you bunch of knob-gobblers”, someone from the back blurted out.

Stanley squealed when we found the bullet-riddled body behind one of the trash bags. He passed out completely when we saw the severed hand holding a gun; everyone was relieved we hadn’t all passed out with him.

“So, what’s this guy have on himâ€?, Bruno asked.

“A wallet”, I said as I checked the body, “and credit cards.”

“So, where’s this guy taking us to dinner?”, Toby asked.

“Anywhere Visa is accepted”, I responded as we climbed out of the dumpster.

“Finally”, he said.