The Deep Stuff I Aspired To Write About

Last night, at 8:50 p.m., a studious Denisse, menu in hand, informed me it was 10 minutes till "late happy hour".

Damn it, just when i was about to order Disarrono on the rocks to chase my raspberry martini (yes, kinda gross, i agree).

30 seconds later, i joked, "Is it nine o'clock yet?" Denisse laughed.

I repeated the question at 8:55 p.m.

8:57 p.m.
I told Denisse, "Seriously, the discount may not be worth the 3-minute wait."