You have tickets to the Super Bowl. You have a chance to see the Patriots try to complete their 19-0 quest, something that may not happen again for another three decades, or ever for that matter. You shelled out $1,800 for your tickets and are only a week away from going to the biggest sporting event of your life. Life couldn’t be better.
You come home and are taken aback when you see scraps of an envelope littering your foyer. Your dog, Buddy, doesn’t run to greet you like normal. He seems a little off, ashamed even. You lean in to pet Buddy, to see what’s wrong with him, and his breath smells like cardboard, Roger Goodell’s hairspray and Tom Brady’s aftershave.
Then it hits you. Buddy ate your Super Bowl tickets. (more…)
