THE FEATHERED GUY TOLD ME TO DO IT!

Dinner last night: soft-scrambled eggs with meaty bits and chopped vegetables, spices, chilies. And a zesty sambal comprised of fish flavoured substances with Sriracha. Followed by some chocolate candy, a chocolate fudge cookie and a stroop wafel. And a cup of coffee. After which, a walk and a smoke. Yes, I shared my repast with the ravenous turkey vulture.
Who was argumentative and insisted that nobody had fed him.
My apartment mate testified that he had been fed.
He had devoured half of her soup!
He still looked full.

Of all the stuffed animals, he is the most passionate about food.

I did not tell him that I've seen his wild kin circling over parts of Marin over the salt marshes and the freeway. He'd insist on being taken to work with me if I did. Then tell me that some of the cigar smokers there needed to be corpsified. And while I'd agree with him, one cannot just whack people who should be dead and make them so. The authorities frown upon that.

I would rather argue with a turkey vulture than with John Law.

That way lies madness. Or at least quicksand.



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