"You know what we should do?" I tell my wife over lunch. "Find a way to insert some Chapstick onto the end of a chopstick. We could call it the "Chapchop-stick" and make millions."
She eyes me as her final noodle snakes into her mouth. I know those eyes. They are that lady justice pair of "right" and "wrong" and they are narrowing now to the side of "wrong."
"Millions of what?" she says. "Enemies?"