POLISHING A TRADITION

Now that my apartment mate has left for the day and the only other person here is the stuffed turkey vulture dozing on her chair, it's relatively quiet. When she is here, he is voluble. Perky. Contentious. Querulous. Feisty. But while she is at work, he mostly dozes, waking up every so often to ask if the fatty inner thighs on which he wishes to feast have somehow as if by magic materialized. Surely I can whack a random passerby outside on the street?
Or one of the old geezers at work?

It's okay to harvest their juicy bits and simply cauterize the wound. That way they won't bleed out, or if they do, no matter, no one will miss them. Why don't I understand this?

And what is wrong with me?
No gumption!

While I will admit that the second category mentioned appeals as potential victim, as dinner for a fuzzy entity snoring opposite, it is not a workable plan. Eventually he'd want more, in his buzzard mind death is a perpetual feast, and undoubtedly there would be slip-ups. And I have no desire to spend the rest of my life behind bars for old geezer disposal. The authorities frown on that. One must let them pass naturally.

Also, it looks like it's going to be a nice enough day that one would not want to dwell on the prospect of hunting down kvetchy old geezers in what is altogether a rather nice city. If he wants to eat them, or any part of them, he'll have to whack them himself. I can lend him a pocket knife. He's small enough that they'll never notice him sneaking up.

While he rests, I shall continue polishing the Comoy billiard shape Tradition which I got back from the stem guy last week. The rim almost looks right now, as good as it may ever be, after assiduous use of microfibre pads of diminishing bite. And where I dealt with the sides I've done a pretty decent job of colour-matching the stain and patina.
I'm rather pleased with it sofar.

I often tell new pipe smokers that if they weren't neurotic before, they soon will be.
Pipe smoking and pipe collecting almost inevitably lead to that.
The aesthtic sense developes sharpness.


Quite likely I have spent well more than a day putzing around with this Tradition. It appealed to me, and now looks considerably better than when I acquired it.
Comoys are among my favourites.



==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================