Goals …

  Cat: Where are you going? Alice: Which way should I go? Cat: That depends on where you are going. Alice: I don’t know. Cat: Then it doesn’t matter which way you go. Lewis Carroll,  Alice in Wonderland.

Tragedy at House No. 352

That’s why I’ll miss Otis. I’m sure his wifey never discovered our numerous escapades through breathalyzer checkpoints, completely unscathed by the law. Mark you, Otis was rarely home. I’ll long for the inebriated attempts to sing some golden country music such as “country road, take me home” that Otis did at the wheel; having arrived at the gate in one piece at 1 a.m. Most times he’d visit my quarters at the top-most floor the following day-break before wifey got up and leave me with the remnant oranges, lemons, gum and other chewables that were myriads attempts to drown the smell of alcohol that she loathed. “Mrs. Otis didn’t entertain edible paraphernalia in the house unless brought by her,” Otis often claimed. … More Tragedy at House No. 352

Home’s always sweet!

Then, I come from that part of the world where I have to mention our hens that look fleshy, not only to the boys in the hood (that’s me and my 2 bros who always have to answer a case of who slaughtered the chicken) but also to the chief’s cocks who make sure they exercise their curvy thighs by engaging them in what seems like prey-predator skills that come in handy for the x-mas chases that always ensue. Determined to strike gold in the hearts of our layers, these cocks always stream in through the fence we share with the chief, making them scamper all over the compound like stray bullets, to provide some cherished home-made entertainment for crazies like me, writer dog. I want home! … More Home’s always sweet!