There was a meeting at work after work. I do not do meetings well. They're mostly for the benefit of other people, feel-good stuff. I am not a feel-good kind of guy. As you certainly must have figured out by now. The best part of the day was informing a person older than myself that decomposition of a human body can take up to ten years. More if it's in a steel or oak casket. Or embalmed with strong chemicals. best go for cremation; far less dangerous chemical crap going into the environment and traveling up the food chain.
He thanked me for my insight into his final rest.
It probably made his cigar taste better.
And part of him is combustible.
On the other hand, James, who is in his eighties and has been out because of lumbago, is back. It was a pleasure seeing him again. His back is still killing him, but less dead than before. Think in terms of an Oliva Melanio Figurado Maduro, which is a top notch smoke from an excellent company. Perfect for catching up on e-mails relaxing on the patio.
Many of the nicest people have physical ailments. Their bodies don't function quite as well as they did. Whereas total blisters like the sour old pissy wattlebags in the back room are never bothered by such things. There was a game on, the boys were loud, the San Francisco Forty Niners lost to the Seattle Seahawks, there was despondency, and one by one they slunk out or off, quietly and deflated.
It was delicious.
As daylight turned to dusk, there was flapping from outside.
Maybe one of them resumed his ultimate form.
And flew off into the drizzle.
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