Flies in the Grits.

There is a certain establishment I frequent for coffee. It shall remain nameless for our purposes here because this article is about how this place is as infested with flies as a café in a third world country. I would like this place to stay in business. Like E.F. Hutton, I have to watch what I say.

I was not sitting at the counter at Slim Goodie’s Diner at 3322 Magazine Street, 70115. I hate it there, but I have to be somewhere.

I was sitting at the counter at Slim Goodie’s Diner at 3322 Magazine Street, 70115. I hate it there, but I had to be somewhere Uptown. This seat was as good as any. The coffee at Slim Goodie’s lives up to its diner reputation, which is not a bad thing.

Obsession with coffee is a sign of societal decadence.

Flies in the Honduran restaurant on Tchoupitoulas Street are understandable, but we live in the Jet Age. Surely, in these United States of America, it is possible to have breakfast without being hounded by houseflies. The only thing worse would be ants.

You’ll have to temporarily excuse me.

Okay. I’m back. I went out to the Vespa and popped the seat. When I got back, Rita said, “You smell good.”

Blue Expedite Oleander Water (TM) may have the unisex appeal that makes the kids go ga-ga nowadays, but houseflies hate it.

Everyone around me is flailing, swatting flies, and failing. Rita is batting her eyes as I type this, unperturbed, her eyes the size of a cow’s. Happiness, no matter what you call it, loves company.