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Saturday, November 22, 2014

Puffy Bastard

It was a cold night, the arctic air blowing in from the north, the darkness following.  I had no choice but to wear my Old Navy winter coat, a puffy son-of-a-bitch.  Doesn't help that it's a Large, slightly too big for me as far as Old Navy sizing goes, but the medium was too short. I was walking the streets of Harlem looking for a good slice of pizza, but none was too be had.

"Hey, you over there!" called a man.

The arctic air was frigid.

"You, the puffy bastard!"

I knew he must be talking to me.

"You look like a fool in that puffy jacket!  It's way too big and puffy.  Ha-ha!"

"I knew he was right, but a man can never admit defeat, especially to another man, especially to another man he doesn't know.

"Listen you god damned son-of-a-bitch," I screamed.  "This jacket is warm and handsome, so leave me alone!"

A number of bystanders close by began chuckling and pointing at me.

"Look at the puffy bastard!" they laughed.

I never could find any good pizza in Harlem that night.  And I still cannot find a good winter jacket.  The saga continues.  The saga of the Puffy Bastard.