My teammate spots it first: a handmade sign on the side of the road advertising fresh eggs for $3.50. Perfect. I slam on the brakes and we both jump out and race up the drive. Time is of the essence. We’re already half an hour late and we have no idea where the other team is. On the house’s front porch is a fridge and an honesty box. We need proof, though, so while I pose holding a carton of eggs in one hand and pointing animatedly towards the fridge with the other, he takes a picture with a disposable camera.
This, of course, is when the front door opens. If the owner is in any way fazed by the sight of two grown men taking a picture of her fridge full of eggs, she hides it well.
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