START THE DAY RIGHT

On Sunday morning around six o'clock there are not very many people about down on the nearby shopping street. There's a man standing at the corner looking aimless, further down a distressed homeless person is howling, an old woman with shopping bags slowly walks this way, and a jogger plomp plomp plomps past. There's a dog walker visble one block away.
A bus heads northwards. Other than the howling dude it is quite peaceful.

Yes, obviously I did not head toward the howling.
It's not something I can deal with.
At this hour.

Mild Virginia flake. Stokkebye 4th. Generation small batch "Resolution". It is lightly topped with hazelnut perfume, but not to an objectionable level. It is pleasant.

Smells good in the moist air.
First pipe after coffee.
Sweet whisps.


Las conspiradoras

An imaginary teevee series: Because El Presidente had found out that the students and Marxists congregated in the various McDonalds loations around the campus, he ordered the capitol guards to eat their lunches there at staggered times during the day for the next year.
In consequence the military men looked plump and nauseous, the students were trim and healthy, and the franchise owner opened fifteen more establishments.
It was a golden age of junkfood in El Montano. Prospertity!

Tailors also benefitted, as uniforms had to be let out.
Dry cleaners flourished greatly too.
That special sauce.



The teevee series idea hasn't gotten any more developed than that. After two blocks I could still hear the howling, and I had also started counting the dogs doing their duty. Plus the short bowl was past its mid point, so I headed up a side street to circle back home. Someone has posted a notice on the light poles that their cat is missing. There is another copy outside the donut shop, which is filled.

Ever since they got rid of counter seating, their business has boomed.
It has, you understand, become a friendlier place.
No reality impairments there.
No howling.



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