Saturday, July 31, 2021


A few years ago, when my apartment mate was pissed at Wheelie Boy, she fantasized about her Teddy Bear laying down a trail of Swedish Princess Cake slices on plates down the longest pier. And then, when he had reached the final slice (plate, paper doily, fork), tipping him wheelchair and all into the Bay. A beautiful fairy tale.

Recently the turkey vulture has suggested that I lure little girl hamsters to the salt flats with a trail of strawberries, so that when they get there he can gobble them up, like little meatballs.

I may have made a mistake in telling him that his fellow turkey vultures congregate there, often circling above it looking for dead seagull or dying rats. He thinks seagulls smell bad alive, and probably taste horrid dead. Like flying garbage. He doesn't want to eat that crap. Nor the dead rats from the nearby McDonalds.
When I told him that large Midwestern tourists don't go there to croak, and consequently there would be no nice fatty inner thighs there, he was despondent.

No, I will NOT invite the Midwestern tourists with their fatty inner thighs into the apartment, and I'm NOT organizing a catering service with trucks out to the salt flats for turkey vultures.
I do not see it as my mission to introduce his kin to civilized life.
Or fatty Midwestern inner thighs.

Please note that the turkey vulture dines very well here. Savoury meat stew with gravy. The tofu corpses. Green leafy "Irish" cadavers. Plus ice cream, pie, and chocolate chip cookies.
Fried eggs, dead Germans (bratwurst), tubular Americans (non-bratwurst).

Chips, dips, bonbons, and diverse pastries.

Salted egg yolk biscuits.

Breakfast foods.

It's very lonely out on the salt flats, gringo.

I have NO intention of killing fatty thighed Midwesterners OR small round mammals.
It would probably be against the law in any case.
Maybe even immoral.

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