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, May 03, 2018


At the corner of a busy San Francisco intersection, near my apartment, is an exercise studio which caters to the youngish urban professional class who wish to stay fit and healthy, for whatever reason. Near there is a childcare centre where busy Chinese parents drop off their toddlers.

I like observing the little kiddies waiting with their parents before it opens. Bright-eyed little moppets, colourfully dressed -- pink, red, purple, violet and electric mauve -- and often brimming with happy energy as they meet their friends each morning. I always watch from across the street, and a healthy distance away, because at that hour there is a cigar in my mouth, and one should not needlessly expose the very small to tobacco smoke.

I am positioned just right to trigger the noodges in the health club.
From twenty feet away, my stench drifts to their door.
Open, because of steamy perspiration.

It's a bonus.

This blogger is not fond of modern yuppies.
In my day, yuppies were better.
More agreeable.

I shall be heading to work in a few hours.
The bus stop is near that exercise studio.
A pale Toro, with Nicaraguan long filler.
And a wrapper leaf from Connecticut.

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