081613 #worm The owner sobs softly on the floor, his pool of tears growing muddy in the dust, even as he replenishes it. Finally, he can cry no more, and he goes home—to see his wife? What is he going to tell her? Honey, I'm in jail. Sorry. Thought you might like to know. And how will she respond? Oh, that's okay. What would you like for dinner, you puscillanimous nit?