Veinte para las nueve — Un an Sans Johnny

So, yeah, Charlita…

Previously, on this most inconsequential blog we [the staff] mentioned that a good friend, who this Rig-raff outfit never really knew, died.

Our interactions with him, were pure platonic plus rare praxis and once again, we only interacted with him, Gerald Morisot , on “those dreaded Wednesdays”, or “buanderie” days. On Saturdays the shower facilities are always closed, neamois, o como dirían en Sin Embargo:

on the previous ObPage, we [the Staff] took the liberty of jetting Ewe’s, un sabado [ASÍ, MORENA–Francia, Amigos de México en Francia, Associacion Gilberto Bosques—Paris, y Brontis–es-eses de La Préfecture à Cité, sin acento ] just for ol’Plain/FX.

We also added un acento to Gerard’s name, because the gentleman certainly CARRIED with A Whole Load of’these… acentos aglomerados en un Agora.

The following snapshot is not the most perfect picture, but the “Lone sac–a–dos” salute and plastic cup toast is the most honest Tribute we [the staff] could think of on the spot, for Mr. G.

—!Michelin Salewa?
— !PreeeeeeeCNTE¡
—¡Michelin Salewa, qué horas trae?
— !Las que áste y sus Mercedes quieran, mi General Arroyo¡¡¡
—¡No sea mamila, Michelin Salewa, qué Horas le cuelgan al reloj, cabrón?
—Ahhhh, faltan Veinte para las dos, mi General.

Full disclosure: last week we pirated a link of the Ozz Man’s “See you on the other side”, and at the time, we had not learned of your death. The song just cut into our mental frequency out of the bleu… out of the lapsus–lazuli.

… it’s High–noonan at rue des Bourdonnais 75001, y faltan Veinte para las nueve.


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