1:25 PM Part Fiction

I sit right outside my front door trying unsuccessfully to get an internet connection. I have ice. That’s the primary news in my place. My fridge was on the fringe of barely cool by mid-morning. I had begun planning the next meal or two prioritizing spoil time and delicacy. Tonight, despite having found ice, I will feast on a delicate seafood stew. OK, so maybe it won’t be that delicate. But it will be very good I think. Squid, shrimp, fish, oysters, onions garlic, bay leaf, rosemary … How can I go wrong? The sun has peeked out and it is now officially full on, all the way, ain’t foolin’ ‘round, blastin’ ass hot and humid like we all know it gets down here. It is going to be hot for sleeping. Something I notice is that tropical storms and hurricanes blow all the mosquitoes out of here. Where I’m sitting, directly outside my front, almost always open, front door, is the realm and homeland of a considerable population of mosquitoes, those tiny gray fuckers that hurt like hell when they bite, then itch like they was cast as a pawt of a hoodoo curse. “They go da hoodoo curse!” screeched Dawlene. “Yeah you right!” mumbled Dr. Bob, in deference to the good Dr.John. Yeah you right! I agree. (For copyright’s sake, I made all of that up.)