This Is Truly Humbling.

 

A person who once tried to strike me is eating dinner in our recreation center. I can tell from the way he holds his food that he doesn't remember anything about where I live, or even who lived there before we decided to take the plunge. In my calmer moments, I can't help realizing someone of his bulk is sometimes barred from positions of public responsibility. Even so, one of our many 'nuisance' regulations is apt to be applied should he seek a footing which could upset a temporary structure. I've been asked to help his foregn-born nursemaid register for necessary pantry items. She lives in a fort I've used many times to avoid having to embarrass myself in front of older robotic slaves. Her hair is a shade of velvet which all of us here in town have a hard time putting our fingers on. Not that we actually want to touch her hair. That would be going too far. But not so far that we feel the need to step out of line and just go ahead and apologize. That would ring too many bells for a lot of otherwise tepid cumsquats.

Right here in the brain that I was born with, I can picture a very large piece of toast. It has my name written all over it. I'm being driven into a city near a little known dining establishment. A person who refuses to be either indentified OR indemnified has asked if I will help him defile a proto-revolutionary graveyard. I am sure to be given every chance to think it over and come to a decision before the weekend is out. Meanwhile, I have this humiliating odor problem. It's like the color of baked shoes gone rogue. The fishing gear in my emergency closet is all but unused. But that doesn't stop me from scraping cooties off a bulletin I found floating in a stream while filming a unique camera shot. The people from overseas are expected to get here soon. Would you be willing to watch for signs of trouble if the consistency of this thing gets called into question? I ask that as a friend and nothing else.

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