DINNER FOR ONE

The porkchops over rice were tasty, but the waitress, though properly dressed, had me wondering what she would look like wearing a bathing suit. Perhaps one piece. This did not distract from my dinner, but added to it. There are times when my inner dirty old man has a field day.
My inner dirty old man and I afterwards went out into the rain to smoke a pipe, because it's part of my regular afternoon jaunt.
People do not wear swimsuits in the rain.
Not in this climate.

Unfortunately my inner dirty old man got rained on.
Not sure, but I think it's the weather.
A downer for the inner geezer.


It is good that the inner dude does not express himself. He's not allowed to. It would almost certainly be embarrassing if he did, because he ain't exactly as socially polished and adept as the outer man (which is me).
He would say things that might get us in trouble.


One of the people on the bus had the exact opposite thing going on his life. Ten blocks of crazy puffed-up white guy reading off the street signs and telling people to sit down now or get up. By the time he himself finally disembarked, I wished that someone would slap him. Other than muttering "shut up you tiresome bore" under my breath, however, I didn't react.


Being quiet and poker-faced has advantages.
Even my inner Neanderthaler knows this.
In that regard we think alike.


Still, she would've looked dynamite in a bathing suit. A sleek one piece black number. Someone should tell her so.




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