I bought a hat today to cover my bare head. A simple trip. Pants, shoes. I found the hat when walking out. Bastards. They got me.

The woman checking me out of the store shoved it in the bag last.

“I don’t want to squish your hat,” she said.

“No matter,” I said. “I believe it’s a squishy hat.”

The farmer’s wife gave me a funny look and I rushed out to my car clutching the gray bag and screaming gibberish at frightened teenage girls.

I soon found myself in another ugly situation.

Chicken.

It tastes good, doesn’t it?

I walked into the newly built, sanitized to the point of despair, Buffalo Wild Wings. I ordered some boneless wings.

How do they make these boneless wings?

I never ask.

I’m afraid to ask.

They taste so fucking good.