Last night, as I was finishing up my last of 6 spicy garlic wings a group of young adults ran up to the table.

“Excuse me, Sir,” they said, “Could we have the bones from your finished wings?”

I gave them a perplexed look, “Sure you can. Do you need all six?” I was in the middle of my last one.

“Yes, we need 12. We got six from another table already.”

“Okay, but why do you want the wings?”

“We’re on a scavenger hunt and we need 12 chicken bones.”

Fair enough, I thought. So I gladly handed over the remains of my dinner and apologized for slobbering all over them.