He followed me into the kitchen and I opened the freezer.
It was hysterical watching his face take on what I liked to call the guppy look: wide eyes, mouth opening and closing with nothing coming out.
“I wasn’t joking about having food in my freezer.” The foil packets were stacked like little aluminum soldiers, each carefully labeled with contents, date of preparation and cooking instruction. They were two deep on each shelf and even on the doors. I barely had space for my ice cream.
“You’d never have to leave,” Butch said. “Hell, why do you?”
**From Butch Cassidy VS The Zombie Girls