At the back of the hill

Warning: If you stay here long enough you will gain weight! Grazing here strongly suggests that you are either omnivorous, or a glutton. And you might like cheese-doodles.
BTW: I'm presently searching for another person who likes cheese-doodles.
Please form a caseophilic line to the right. Thank you.

Thursday, April 27, 2017


Instead of a day off, I am working tomorrow. Among the cigar smokers. Be still my beating heart. Today in that environment was a slice. Soccer, then baseball, then football. And, during the ads, golf.

Honestly, if I had to watch anything, it would be competitive sitting.
Fortunately the television is in the back, with all the saggy armchairs.
And the equally saggy middle-aged men who sit there.


"Hey, did you see that a crematorium caught fire in Cincinnati?"

"What happened?"

"They were incinerating a morbidly obese man when the body fat flamed and set the place alight. Five hundred pounds of chunky human torch."

"What, it flared-up like a grease fire?!?"

At this point a different voice started wailing.

"Please don't mention crematoriums! I'm dying! That's going to be my fate soon!"

"Oh nonsense! You're not that f*&king overweight!"

"Maybe he's highly combustible?"

Another voice chimed in.

"Yeah, perhaps not even close."

"We should have the fire department there in case."

The final comment was somebody speculating that it probably smelled just like smoky bacon. Which I did not need to hear.
It being right around lunchtime.

While commenting on the ball game, the announcer stated that so-and-so was a freak.

"A freak? What does that mean? How is he a freak?"

"It's because his third leg is bifurcated, marsupial style, just like a possum."


"What did you think of that cigar?"

"It was too tightly rolled, like someone's butt was clenched."

"That's NOT how they roll them! They use their smooth and fatty thighs, and gently, gently coax it into a tubular shape."

"Gently coax it my ass! You're daft!"

"Everything is about arse with you, isn't it?"


"I don't DO coconut. I've never done coconut."

"But you really should do coconut."

Tomorrow, more of the same. And all through the weekend.
Fortunately they've stopped talking politics.

I was not expecting to work tomorrow.
So dinner tonight will be a few biscotti.

What kind of casket holds a five hundred pound man being prepped for the incinerator, and did they spend too much on it? Was it hardwood? Polished? A metal tray?

Is the term "morbid" still operative here?

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All correspondence will be kept in confidence.


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