'There's a whale, there's a whale, there's a whale.' A sip or two of chardonnay you taste in your orange juice. In the little crystal-cut cheap plastic cups. 'There's a whale, and it's going to eat all the monsters in your little gut!' 'Is that what he says?' 'No.' It's super sunny out, all the curtains are down and we have the lights warming the room. It's chilly out, have the friends over, they'll all come. Coffee, hash-browns, ham, profuse amounts of egg, pepper, and cinnamon rolls fresh out of the oven. 'Does anybody know a word that ends in F, E, or a J?' 'Oh, but could you send me that photo from your phone to my email, love?' 'Yois.' Pour some more, take some more, do some more. Why not. Why not. Not why! 'Lazy sunday.'

'Dude, can one of you guys call Tim and ask him when he's going to go to the flea market?'


Memories of indulgence.

Mothagesso.