When John offered to take you to a diner, you couldn’t refuse his offer. Now the two of you are sitting across each other in a booth as the waitress arrives with your food.

“Hey, John, can you pass me the salt?” You ask innocently.

“Sure thing, love. Here,” he reaches into one of the largest pockets of his trademark trench coat and pulls out a huge canister of salt. Everyone looks at him funny.

“What? I need it for my rituals… stupid buggers.” He grumbles the last part under his breath.