The only thing that could have made the day better was a violent, windy, rainy electrical storm that threatened to take the trees down. Still, it was nice. Partly cloudy and rather cold.
How nice to never have to be in another car again, or vacuum, or dust, or scrub bathrooms, or clean floors. Just laundry, dishes, and wipin' up after my own messes. I didn't dig mincin' veggies and stuff, either; and this was uber sweet. I guess it was an even exchange for no longer bein' at the house in the outback.
My mentor. . .he came into the livin' room of the suite as the mullethead and I sat there with me listenin' to the mullethead gripe about the plunge protection team and the stock market goin' in the wrong direction, and he put two huge bowls of pomegranate seeds topped with a ton o' whipped cream, then he went back to the kitchen to bring out a tray o' tay, three cups, a bottle o' pomegranate wine that I didn't even know we had, and a bowl o' pomegranate seeds for himself, yes also with whipped cream. When I asked whether he did all this work for us, or if he bought them that way, he refused to answer.
The wine, we all drank from the bottle. The mullethead only had a couple o' sips, sayin' it was almost good, and 'it' may acquire a taste for it, but why bother. I wasn't much of a wine drinker, but it wasn't bad for a wine. I may have had a half a cup, and my mentor had the rest. Both the mullethead and I were more intent on the seeds. They were very ripe, and tasted like they were on the verge o' turnin' into wine themselves. They couldn't be any better.
Then the three of us spoke of our future. The mullethead asked a question that got me laughin' pretty hard. "After I get there, can I take down all the chemtrail planes like a video game?"
Uh, no!!!!!!!!! When we left this place, we would LEAVE this place. None of us would ever come back in any way, shape or form.
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