I, with a few moments to spare ere heading out to earn a bit for the old guitar fund, spent some time flipping around the web, hoping to find a secret message, one that I could decode, announcing that an alien race was taking over America as part of an emergency intervention ordered by the rulers of our Galaxy.
Found none.
Back to the morning's business: I take a glass of medicinal wine in the evening and some vitamins in the morning, along with a pill that should be "taken with milk." The first thing I found in the fridge was a quart of buttermilk my wife, "La Jefa" uses to make corn bread.
Seemed close enough.
The next thing I saw was one of the fancy wine glasses I had recently purchased with which to upgrade my nightly (self-imposed) ration of medicinal wine.
Seemed as good as anything.
I stood for a moment staring at an elegant wine glass filled with buttermilk. It seemed to wink at me and I felt a tickling in one of the evaluative nodes of my brain.
It was then I realized that I will never be asked to join a country club.
Drats.
 |
| Where, oh where, did I first go wrong? |
No comments:
Post a Comment