The trashcan was beginning to freak him out. It wasn’t until he had his lunch plate in his hand that he saw what was being served for lunch. Hanging his head, he said, “The menu said pizza.”“Hey, Tom. What’s with the trashcan?” Jerry asked pointing to the trashcan following Tom.“I don’t want to talk about it,” Tom answered.Jerry laughed and said, “I’ve heard of puppies and cats following people home, but never a trashcan.”“Stuff it, you...” Tom had to pull a wad of paper from his mouth. Disgusted, he threw it in the trashcan.“That’s a pretty lame trick,” Jerry said. He pointed to the woman at the register and said, “You’re holding up the line.”Tom moved forward and the trashcan followed him. He paid for his lunch looking over his shoulder at the trashcan. The woman at the register cackled and said, “Enjoy your lunch.”Tom quickly walked to his table and turned around. The trashcan was three feet away from him. With a sinking feeling in his stomach, he said, “This isn’t right.”Debbie. Even the moon's brightness didn't penetrate enough to show the faces of the black-skinned troops who were confronting the pair in the African Bush. He thought that if only he had listened to the others and had a European girlfriend all would have been well. But the tall African girl at his side was now a big problem. She spoke rapidly in Hausa to the sergeant, who seemed less than happy - she had told Sven to play dumb - "don't open your mouth - it will only make it worse!" had been her exact words. He believed her. He wondered whether, like an animal, the soldiers could sense or smell his fear. He wondered if it would hurt, or whether there would just be a blinding light and nothing. Would he hear the noise of the shot? He knew the rifles were cocked and loaded, ready to fire. They were too efficient for it to be otherwise; their eyes didn't blink or flicker in the moonlight.Suddenly the talking was over. Julia still stood, half in front of him, her right arm across his chest. The.
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