One often finds joy--the normative sense--in the shortest of moments, a fraction of a second when "Z" no longer ends the alphabet and the "omega" is a sign of rebirth.

I found such a moment in a chocolate shake, not even a particularly good one either.

As much as my satirical and unrelenting, while transparent, male persona dreads to admit it, the moment had something to do with friendship and the foundation for truth allowed by the bond. (Don't tell, but I think one of my friends doesn't hate me.) Having a confidant with which to share the tasteful-tacky, wanted-dreaded moments of an all-to-confusing and overbearing existence comes close to priceless, closer so than any Mona Lisa or precious jewel.

If friendship has the audacity to carry a price, then it roughly translates to $2.99 (with meal), tax excluded.

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