The last two nights at work were dead, but the funniest thing happened Wednesday night to make up for it. Scott and John were in and so Scott and several others saw this. John had a “spittoon,” a can he spits in. He had it sitting on the table when I reached across to grab a cigarette and knocked it onto his crotch. I laughed so hard that my stomach and throat were killing me. It looked like he peed his pants and I could see how red his face was, even in those dim lights. He was so embarrassed and said, “I’d rather have you spit on me than you knock my own spit on me.”