FEEDING THE WILD ANIMALS

Lunch had been a carnitas burrito no beans, picante. My coworker got an al pastor burrito, picante. My coworker has a problem with irritable bowel syndrome. But he likes flavour, and we work in the middle of a small gustatory dessert. So I didn't say anything. Lunch was very enjoyable. But there was an aftermath, which fortunately I do not know much about.
I wouldn't be surprised if his wife calls today to ask me what I was thinking.

I am sorry, ma'am, but both of us like flavour.
And he is an adult. Yes?

I credit my long life to clean living, hot chilies, and buckets of tea.
You know, the happy stuff. Plus pipe tobacco.

If I had a wife or helpmeet, she would probably not call me up to ask me what I was thinking. Probably because she would understand that, while I am at work, I don't have time for that, and in any case I'm wired to the eyebrows on caffeine from the tea while on the job and therefore, almost necessarily, strange things must happen.

The burrito joint is closed on Sundays. Which is sad. Convenience store sandwiches just don't cut it. And their pizza is the stuff of nightmares. Perhaps I mentioned the term "gustatory dessert"?


It's not a question of nutritional benefits, but flavour.
Which in the suburban world is a toughie.



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