When I walked in from work today and kissed Miss Lisa I must've dribbled some tobacco juice, just a little bit, down her chin.
Jesus, you'd think I'd shot her instead, the way she was carrying on.
It serves her right though, after all the times she ambushed me with a kiss and smeared my Copenhagen all over my teeth.
But now she won't kiss me unless she gets a profile view so she can check for that telltale lump under my lip. I don't know why she won't take my word for it that I don't have a chew in.