For many years, I stopped at the Dunkin’ Donuts on Route 1 before work. I stopped doing that when I started to go to the gym before I went to the office. However, there are other Dunkin’ Donutses in the world. In particular, there is one in Littleton, New Hampshire. I stopped there for some coffee, but the clerk was going to give me the dregs from a pot that had been boiling all day. I politely declined and asked her to make a fresh pot. With very poor grace, she made a pot, took my money, and gave me change, without a word. As I was leaving, I heard her raging to somebody in the back, probably the owner. I don’t know what exactly she said, but her tone was clear and I know the French words for “pig” and “dog.” I’m not sure which one I was.
A year or two later, I stopped in there with my brother Steve, and I had briefed him on my previous experience. He said that we should go in and announce ourselves, saying, “The pig and the dog are back”: “Le cochon et le chien sont retournès.” But we were too poulet-merde to do so.

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