Lukewarm Coffee
On the moto, as I rode to work this morning to teach the officer from the Minister of economics, swerving through traffic to avoid the Landcruisers which are driven with impugnity by former Khmer Rouge bigwigs...I noticed on the power line up ahead, a bushy tailed squirrel prancing across the busy road far overhead.
I felt nostalgic, a little, for the old squirrel days back home in Ohio, back in the days of tree forts and Halloween. Our trees were full of the paunchy rodents, who'd nimbly claw their way from pole to pole along the high tension wires.
"Hey...that's no squirrel"
No, it wasn't. It was nothing less than a bare assed monkey, clever and determined, balls drooping off his mangy hide, trying to make his way across the great Russian Boulevard.
He made it across and stopped to rest at a grubby, battered cement pole which supported the wires. He clung to it grimly, halfheartedly, as King Kong does in his final moments (watch the movie to see what I mean) as he clings to the spire of the Empire State Building, riddled with holes by the assaulting biplanes.
I looked back at my fellow primate as I passed, and I thought I could see that he was watching me depart. And then, another movie moment, but this time the scene in Deliverance where the retarded banjo player watches impassively as Burt Reynolds and the other doomed canoers make their way under the footbridge and down the river...onwards...to their unsavory destinies.
Later in the day I scoured a menu to fill my gut, and saw the following listed in proud bold letters:
**Lukewarm Coffee with Milk**
Ah, the smell of it!
I felt nostalgic, a little, for the old squirrel days back home in Ohio, back in the days of tree forts and Halloween. Our trees were full of the paunchy rodents, who'd nimbly claw their way from pole to pole along the high tension wires.
"Hey...that's no squirrel"
No, it wasn't. It was nothing less than a bare assed monkey, clever and determined, balls drooping off his mangy hide, trying to make his way across the great Russian Boulevard.
He made it across and stopped to rest at a grubby, battered cement pole which supported the wires. He clung to it grimly, halfheartedly, as King Kong does in his final moments (watch the movie to see what I mean) as he clings to the spire of the Empire State Building, riddled with holes by the assaulting biplanes.
I looked back at my fellow primate as I passed, and I thought I could see that he was watching me depart. And then, another movie moment, but this time the scene in Deliverance where the retarded banjo player watches impassively as Burt Reynolds and the other doomed canoers make their way under the footbridge and down the river...onwards...to their unsavory destinies.
Later in the day I scoured a menu to fill my gut, and saw the following listed in proud bold letters:
**Lukewarm Coffee with Milk**
Ah, the smell of it!
