breakfast is the most important meal of the day in these parts.
hell, in any parts really.
but when the bastard's on vacay, coffee becomes a more daunting task.
so after dropping the boy off at school, i get some breakfast and a cup of coffee to dock my oil tanker on.
while driving back to an empty house and some packing I realize that um not driving so fast so I pick it up for the old man in the gun boat who's riding the bastard's ass.
it was then and only then, that he gave me the finger. as if it was some manner of delayed response.
oh
he's moving,
fuck him.
so i snapped his mug for posterity and oddly enough, he slowed down markedly. odd thing.
—the bastard
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