We heard a rumour.
We heard that the best chicken schnitzel in town was to be had at the chinese restaurant at the local RSL club.
We decided to investigate further. Because all chicken schniddy rumours should be taken seriously.
So we set off. Daz got in the car. I said – Naah, lets walk, it's not far and we'll need to walk off some of that schnitzel later. He ummed and aahhed about it, but we walked.
We arrive at the club. I have the chicken schniddy. Daz as usual can't go past the spicy combination seafood. The schnitzel is good. Tender and covered in rich gravy with chips and veg. Can't decide if its the best in town, but it's up there.
We walk out the door and it's pouring rain.
Daz said – lets get a taxi.
Nah I say, lets just run, we'll wait for ages for a taxi. And it's only about one kilometre.
I don't know if I can, he said as I disappeared into the darkness. He tells me he tried to run but his combination seafood combined with a few beers was sloshing about too much.
But see, all that running on the treadmill paid off. I ran all the way in pelting rain. It was kind of nice. Except for the bit where my nice pink jacket got all wet.
But I wish I'd taken the key from him before I took off because then I had to wait on the verandah for him. The neighbours cat waited with me.