TOO MUCH TOAD

Here it is, more than two hours after they're gone, and I still feel like saying something nasty. The cigar smokers in the back were all loud and crude today, but the last four were NOT using their indoor voices, complete blisters, repetitive, and profoundly irritating.


Everyone should be grateful that I don't tell them all to shut the blazes up.

Years ago, in parts of Europe, infants were given a sugar cube dipped in brandy to quieten them down. It helped them sleep. That might not work on these boys. Alcohol has scant effect; they are the reason Xylazine and elephant tranquilizer darts were invented.

But I shan't say anything nasty. I am not that type.


Like Mr. Badger in Wind in the Willows, I am a calm unruffled sort, content to be left alone and leave others alone. I'll just drape a cloth over my face, put my feet up, and relax in the peace and quiet of my diggs.


"Badger had retired to his study and settled himself in an arm-chair with his legs up on another and a red cotton handkerchief over his face, and was being "busy" in the usual way ..."


There was far too much Toad today.

Them and their bluster.

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