The Twisted Cigar

 

"You can blame me," Rick called out the car window as I walked to the store where we had bought the twisted cigars.

Our friend and my wantabe brother RB2 has asked us to pick up some Mauler champagne and the cigars from this Swiss store near our home and take it to him the next time we were going to Southern France where he lived.

We did, but RB2 only needed on box, not two of the cigar boxes.

Rick suggested I would do better trying to get a refund because of his hearing and my French.

I walked into the store with the box of cigars and the receipt.

At eight in the morning, the store was deserted except for the cashier behind the cash register. 

I did the smile and the customary polite bonjour before preceding. 

"My stupid husband bought two boxes of cigars when he should only have bought one," I said in French. "He's always doing that, buying much to too much. I did an eye roll unlike any I'd done since my teenage years.

The cashier called her manager. She repeated what I'd said without the eye rolls and the over-buying comments.

The manager checked it out, being careful that the seal wasn't broken, and told her to refund my 57 CHF, which she did.

I thanked her.

Back in the car I told him, I blamed him.