in his goblosh. His mouth, that is. His home, this metal trailer
smelled of last nights beans, as it often did, but the taste was not
one of overnight bean residue. There was an unusual minty
undertone, and an even more unusual leafy overtone.
Sitting up in his kitchen bed, Never Pardon grogged to awakeny."Where's me troos."
It wasn't Monday. It was the day after that.
The particulars of the day were not really relevant to his trousers
you understand.
These were his everyday character trousers. Blue ones. Velvet on
the inside, normal denim on the out. Side.
He got up.
Outside it was a brisk and fresh morning ...
1 comment:
always a bummer to wake up and not be able to find your pants!
Post a Comment