I peered a bit closer. 'One spray tan away from perfection-a-soup.'
I wasn't wearing my glasses; I called Husband. 'Are you wearing your reading glasses?'
'No, but I can read in these.'
'What does this say?'
He took it over to the light, studied it carefully, held it at a variety of angles and finally said, 'One spray tan away from perfection-a-soup.'
'One spray tan away from perfection-a-soup? What does that mean? Does that make any sense to you?'
He shook his head. I went and fetched my glasses and read it again. 'One spray tan away from perfection-a-soup.'
'It must be in code,' I said. 'Someone is being kept prisoner in a soup packaging factory and this is the only way they can get a message out.'