On Becoming Something of a Con-Man.

Ian Cooper

Okay, so here is our soup of the day. In this case, it’s a can of Campbell’s Chicken Noodle Soup, (painted by Andy’s War-hole as I recall). Only we’ve added chopped onion, three good sized white or button mushrooms, and of course our usual dose of herbs and spices including Mrs. Dash as well as salt and pepper.

Also, we’re cooking some frozen biscuits, i.e. the dough was frozen. Just to see what the hell happens, we greased up a pan and somehow managed to separate out the individual biscuits. 

So what’s going on now is we’ve got the frozen dough-nuggets in the oven.

That’s one of the great things about being drunk half the time. We don’t give a shit what we eat as long as it tastes good or even just unusual, (being bored as hell much of the time) and assuming that it don’t kill us.

Right?

But in something that’s really weird, lately people have been showing up at our door and dropping off food and stuff.

It’s almost as good as the fuckers buying a book and shit like that. It doesn’t help our rankings much, but since the food so far ranges from home-made ice cream, to bowls of cherries—oh, how many analogies spun through my mind as I ate them things—especially with that bright red and yet dark red juice spilling down my fingers and dripping on my sink and counter, ah, ah; a bag of mini-doughnuts and most recently, a dozen muffins on the brink of being condemned by the health department but if I had baggies or plastic wrap I could still freeze them. They probably won’t kill me, right? 

So I don’t know if that really qualifies as a success or not, but the reader will have to admit I’m becoming something of a scrounger and may show some promise at getting otherwise (and somewhat) under-appreciated women of all ages to look after me.

Yes, even me. Why not, they look after all kinds of scruffy old men.

To clarify.

I don’t appreciate them all that much either.

I’m trying to get some work done here, can’t you see that…???

So on our bucket list we will provisionally cross off becoming a con-man.

I don’t know how many dreams one man can achieve in a single lifetime, but we are well on the way to the Guinness Book of World Records.

Anyway, that’s how it seems to us, but comments are always welcome.

END