Never Poke A Caged Universe With A Sharp Stick

*** continued from previous post ***

The moment we step in the door our noses are accosted - yet again - by wave after wave of delightful aromas. Even though I haven't yet digested breakfast, let alone lunch or High Tea, my stomach answers this olfactic symphony with a grand and mighty gurgle.

Stacy is there, and with a broad sweep of her hand lets us know that we can take any seat we wish. The room is fairly full, but not overly so. All but one of the tables has at least a few people scattered around the perimeter sipping wine and drinks.

Now here is the dilemma: Do we sit at a table that is already occupied or do we grab the empty one? If we do sit at the empty table will we be seen as 'snobs', or as considerate visitors sparing this collection of landed gentry the coarseness of our pedestrian Americanism, sheltering them from two dolts from THE STATES?

Before I could contemplate the ramifications of such a decision, and I want you to realize that wars have started over less complicated social interaction, your mom dragged me to the empty table. Oddly no one seemed to mind. Your mom breathed a sigh of relief as we took our seats.

"Good. Maybe we'll get lucky tonight and have the table to ourselves."

I opened my mouth to chastise her for her audacity. A statement like that can't go unchallenged. You should never ever taunt the Universe in such a manner. Remember my previous advice; the Universe, as I'm sure you've discovered in your 22 year stretch on this planet, will reach right up and bitch-slap you proper the moment you make such a bold declaration. Cases in point: Remember these innocuous bits of verbiage? "This ship is unsinkable!" Or, "There's no way we will elect him a second time." Or, and burn this one into your memory, "It's just a minor territorial expansion to retake historical homelands. They'll stop at the border." Yeah. That one left a mark.

Anyway, next thing you know an ominous shadow fell across the room and our "Breakfast Family" was taking their seats at our table.

I swear, I heard the dirge-like "Dun Dun DUN!". Those few simple notes foreshadowing disaster. Only in my head it was played slap-base style by Les Claypool, some of that Primus hometown-heavy, which made it a tad less creepy.


*** the journey continues ***