It was a Friday about 7pm and I had Monday off from work. I had no plans and was looking forward to a long weekend of doing nothing. I heard a knock at the door. I almost ignored it, I wasn't expecting anyone and I could already taste the sweet and sour of my Chinese take out dancing in my mouth.
I looked through the eye hole and saw Marcie, a woman from two floors up from my apartment. She was wearing an attractive business suit. We had only talked in passing, but I did know she was in her mid thirties, divorced, and a young daughter.
I always thought that she was pleasantly average. You know the type a skinny blond with a small waist, not really shapely, and small breasts. Her face was nothing to write home about, but she was not really ugly. She was your typical blond housewife.
She looked a little disheveled. One thing I have learned in my forty years is that you really don't want to get involved if you don't have to, but she was crying and I really couldn't help myself.
I opened the door and saw the woman holding a couple boxes of cookies from the Girl Rangers.
"Hey, Marcie, ah, what's up?" I asked.
"I've been at this for hours and we need to sell just 20 more boxes of cookies, would you be willing to buy some so I can go home." Then Marcie said.
"Aren't these supposed to be sold by the Girl Rangers?"
"I missed a deadline and my daughter is with her no good father and I..."
"Well, I don't really need any..." I began to say.
"No, you don't understand, her father has already sold two times the minimum and now I, ah, I just want to sell these so that. Please..."
I looked at her in her in her pitiful condition and asked, "OK how much are they?"
"Ten dollars a box."
"Damn, ten dollars a box? That sounds like robbery to me."