Chandler Gets a Treat

I'm on a train pulling into the place I grew up in when suddenly I find myself walking, and then  driving south towards the cornfields at the edge of town. The next thing I know, I'm standing in Rudy's candy shop, Rudy is mopping the floor with a bucket of Lysol......
"Alan! Is the football game over yet?"
Goddamn it, I was dreaming again. I'm pissed because Mark has awakened me from a deep sleep, and because I fell asleep during halftime again. I know, the two things are kind of opposite reasons to be pissed, but Mark constantly disrupts my sleep. He comes home late at night, and wakes me up, and for some reason he just can't stand to see me nap during the daytime hours. Then there is the fact that I didn't want to miss the second half of a good football game, they are few and far between for Bears fans. But that smell.
"Why do I smell Lysol?"
"There's no Lysol. I'm cooking dinner."
Damn, Mark's cooking has never smelled like disinfectant before.
"Well what the hell are you cooking."
"Dinner." Mark harrumphs, and stomps off into the kitchen.

After a while my sense of smell comes around, and I realize I'm smelling onions cooking. I also realize my hand is jammed in the crack between the seat of the recliner and the arm. As I pull my hand out I can feel things. I reach around down there and grab a handful of whatever it is, and put it up on the table next to the chair. Chandler perks up and looks at the pile. It's mostly coins, with a few pretzels, and peanuts mixed in. So like the good guy I am, I divide it. Stale pretzels, and peanuts for Chandler, and around five dollars in coins for me.