At the back of the hill

Warning: May contain traces of soy, wheat, lecithin and tree nuts. That you are here
strongly suggests that you are either omnivorous, or a glutton.
And that you might like cheese-doodles.
Please form a caseophilic line to the right. Thank you.

Thursday, March 15, 2018


There is an over-ripe mango on the kitchen counter. If I did not know better, it would suggest that my apartment mate is a mid-thirties Anglo, probably Protestant, dippy, and blonde. Instead of a petite Asian-ancestried woman. Because, as everyone knows, mangoes should be green, hard, and sliced into long jade wedges to be eaten with a dab of shrimp paste and smear of chili condiment. Or oily sambal trasi.
That is very heaven.

Green mango, anchovy, and fatty pork.
Another favourite.

For most mangoes, ripe is the first stage of rot.
She will "enjoy" it in a day or two.
I ain't saying nuttin'.

No sambal.

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