Moments in Burque

Throughout the week I’m going to collect snippets to share on Fridays. I’m calling these posts “Moments in Burque.” Hope you enjoy the first edition.

This morning I was chatted up by the Hispanic version of William Burroughs. Kind and hard edged with hollow cheeks and a bottle of Johnny Walker Red peeking out of the pocket of his black trench coat. He was impeccably dressed and walked with a cane. He liked my hair and remarked on my wool trench coat, even mentioning how warm it must be in Mexico City right now. I damn near asked if I could read what he was writing right now.

I was sitting at the bus stop nearest my house and trying to type a message to that guy I like while wearing my tech friendly gloves. The auto corrects were hilarious, for instance “Hot dilly,” which you must say in the voice of Ned Flanders, instead of “hopefully” and so I was snickering and giggling to myself. The three kids who are frequently at the stop with me are always dubious about my presence, but today they slowly backed away from me and stood to the side of the shelter out of my sight. It occurred to me that I am the creepy woman with purple hair at the bus stop in the world of these kids.

While massaging my hoshigaki I remarked to Dave that they felt really pleasant, sorta like squishy nut sacks. Yeah, I went there. Here’s a picture:
Of the persimmons you perv!


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