Can I tell you something

I don’t want to be at work today.

“Who does?” said the blind man to the lamp post.

“Who does indeed.” I whispered in his ear. He smiles knowingly, the whiskers of three days growth bristling against his scarf colored and twisted like a churro around his neck.

“Maybe we should get a cup-o-coffee at the milk store.” he speaks now to the location of my voice.

“The milk store is just a regular Vons; they sell everything there,” I informed him.

“And they have coffee and stop telling me things I already know.”

We make our way over through the parking lot, then inside to the cafe/deli/bakery/shoe repair section of the store. I decline the flu shot/large coffee combo and settle for the mini paper cup of the brewed caffeine vehicle.

“So tempted by the honey pot, eh?”

“Yes. I mean I was.” I didn't care for how that sounded. “I mean I was for a little but I was just getting ahead of myself again.”

The bucther behind the counter hands over two dogs to a lady pogo-ing an inch off the ground in excitement. I look down in pity for the poor animals only to be disgusted by what I see.

There is no good reason for this.

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