She wanted a getaway driver for the bread basket

She picked a little Italian place and told me she loved a man who could be spontaneous. I figured that meant splitting dessert, not receiving an evacuation briefing. Before we ordered, she asked me to move my car closer to the side door. Then she tested whether her purse could hold a bread basket. Not the bread. The basket. When the check arrived, she slid it toward me and whispered, “On three, we both say we smell gas.” I said absolutely not. She looked genuinely disappointed. “My last boyfriend understood teamwork.” She tried Plan B: announcing that we were restaurant inspectors and the meal was now evidence. Our server asked which agency. She said, “The main one.” I paid for my food while she called a friend to cover hers, loudly describing me as emotionally unavailable. As I left, she asked for a ride. I told her I wasn't feeling spontaneous. She pointed at the basket and said, “Fine. Can you at least drive him?”