Why did the parking lot at the Toys R Us where I bought my sister’s birthday present (shhh, I don’t think she reads often) smell of bacon?

It wasn’t just the elderly couple with wraparound sunglasses sitting in the car next to me eating with their windows down.  It wasn’t the wings place at the opposite end of the parking lot.  It wasn’t the shuttered JCPenney store next door to the Toys R Us.  It was just the air in that parking lot.  And it wasn’t just a slight whiff.  It was the unmistakable overwhelming odor of pork products recognized as only a Jewish vegetarian can do. 

I got the gift, though.  They were holding at the customer service the last one of these items in the store, and, possibly, in the greater Philadelphia area.  And now it’s all mine.  That is, it’s mine, until I give it to her. 

Happy Birthday Toto.

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