My big brother Joel and I finally met up today. Out last chill out was… more than six months ago, I believe. Anyway, the occasion was to celebrate my birthday. Belated, that is.

We had lunch at Heeren‘s Billy Bombers. The food was terribly disappointing and totally not worth his money. (But I shall not go into detail on that.)

When our food came, he said, “Man, I feel full just looking at this. I don’t think you can finish that. (points to my plate)”

“Oh yes I can,” I said cheerfully.

“No you can’t,” he shot back.

“Wanna bet?” I grinned mischievously.

“Christians don’t bet,” he smiled back.

“Ok. We’ll wager then.”

He chuckled.

We started to dig in when I noticed this huge green thing on my plate. He had one as well. I asked, “What’s this?”

“Looks like cucumber,” he said.

“I think it’s pickles. It looks pickled,” I said.

“It’s cucumber.”

“It’s pickled cucumber. Pickles!”

“Wanna bet?”

I grinned. “Christians don’t bet.”

So, in conclusion, Christians don’t bet. We wager.

Oh my goodness. I can’t believe King Kong was three hours long. More on that—next time.