I love breakfast places that include pancakes with every meal you order. It's not on the menu, but oh baby, you get them cakes and they're tasty, tasty cakes, I tell ya whut. Along with the eggs, hash browns, and rye I might as well eat a bag of flour- but that's less satisfying, isn't it? I like to ingest my carbs, to feed my addiction, in as many different varieties as possible (but all in one sitting). Not a day goes by that I don't thank the Earth for producing wheat and for producing the human brain that thought to grind said wheat into delicious, delicious flour. Mm, mm good. All adjectives today will be repeated twice and twice only. Good, good times.

So on the way home from Sunday brunch I said good bye to my partner in consumption, and started walking homeward. I was completely unaware that I would be swept off my feet by such a valiant suitor. Such candor, such... as they say... balls.

nataliedee.com

His name was Roy and he was no boy though I think he had some ideas that may or may not rhyme with -oy.

"Excuse me, ma'am."

[ignore the voice, keep walking, pay no attention to the man behind the curtain]

"Excuse me, miss...?"

[turn around and he's right there, breathing down my neck, so I step back to ensure my own safety. he has chapped lips, like really chapped... scabby. his eyes are shifty and this does not surprise me. his appearance actually has little to do with anything, given the manner of this mid-walk interruption.]

"I'd like to introduce myself. Can I?"

"Sure."

"My name is Roy and I was wondering if I could have your number."

"Uhhh, no."

"Even if you just want a guy to do things for you?"

"Uhhm, yeah, no. That's ok."

"Alright, thanks."

And that was that- a cold Sunday morning continued as usual, I walked the rest of the way home wondering what I do almost every day:

What the fuck is wrong with people?!

Exeunt.