:: The immolating spinach harbingers a time of great and searing isolation ::

Thursday, November 06, 2003

And lo, I did inquire, "Kindly purveyor of Pakistani fare, mayhaps is there some sag paneer to accompany this feast of fowl?"

And the shopkeeper did regretfully lower his head in a gesture that said: no dice, home-slice. "If my friend it is spinach you crave," he did counter, "I have something you might enjoy in its stead."

And I did produce a freshly-printed $100 bill, the telephone numbers of several women of questionable sexual rectitude, a strawberry, and a platinum-plated Rubik's Cube as tacit endorsements of his proposal. He did scurry to retrieve the spinach.

And I did carry the verdant bounty back to my office, its unholy warmth emanating from within the styrofoam container, where I did skewer myself on the sword that was my appetite for spice. And this did beget unenviable sequestration in a tiny room with good plumbing.

Epilogue: I remain undeterred, and will myopically return for more.

Posted by morland @ 07:00 PM

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