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.

Saturday, August 11, 2018


A business person with access to automatic calling is keen to get my patronage. Several times I have received his cheerful pre-recorded message. "Hi, this is Dave from your local air-duct cleaning service....."
Dave, kindly go fly a kite. We don't have air.
That's for rich peoples.

We can't afford air-ducts. We're relying on cutaneous gas exchange instead.

I'm in the middle of a procedure, and my space ship just landed.

So glad you called, we're burning body parts!

We breathe methane here.

Apparently Dave is a very common name for air duct doctors. There are very many Daves who can go piss up a rope.

I'm not at all sure this building has air ducts. It's kinda old, built during the first half of the last century, when people still relied on windows for ventilation. Every room here has at least one window.
They're very nice.

"Hi, this is Dave from your local air-duct cleaning service....."

Dave, never call in the evening. If you interrupt my dinner, bad things may happen. Such as my apartment mate, watching frightful surgical procedures on her computer, answering the phone instead. And giving a blow by blow description, involving prongs, forceps, body fluids. She might even have your number, Dave, and make your life hell. She can be vindictive.

I still resent you calling us when I was sitting down to a tasty chicken and potato curry. What the hell were you thinking? Dave's Duct Cleaning will never get my business. You suck, Dave.

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