the setting:
everyone standing around my cube as we stare in deep contemplation at a Corner Bakery menu, planning what we’re going to order for lunch.

the players:
niqui, a sox fan
C, a cubs fan
E, wisely remaining silent on baseball allegiances

E: look at this guy! (points to my Ozzie rookie card, now thumbtacked up — in its little protective plastic sleeve, natch — on my cube wall) i’ve got an accent, but this guy! his is bad!

C: and he’s been here like twenty years!

E: now how’d she (nodding at niqui) get to be a sox fan?

C: (laughs)

niqui: (looks up from menu) that’s good taste and breeding, my friend!

C: yeah, yeah!

niqui: (encouragingly) hey, you guys didn’t do too badly last night, zambrano got the win.

C: see, she sounds condescending though!

E: well, she’s got the champions… you’ve got the cubs.