Double Plus Ungood
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- God. Thought Criminal.
The Morning Kaffee
It began with an Autumn breeze..., the dryness of summer finally giving way to cooler but not uncomfortable temperatures. Still, because it was cooler, because it was Autumn, the breeze gently moved the scents of the city from the west to the east. Now, the scents of kaffee did not evaporate into the dryness, finding their way to the Ballard Bridge, underneath it, into his nostrils and tickling his desire. The scents of the early morning were the best, before the streets became clogged with automobiles and combustion engines. Not that the scents of the late night didn't have their appeal, like meat and ale from the nearby restaurants.
Speaking of meat and ale, last night's repast had been thoroughly pickled. Oh, well, as his ancestors said, "For a good appetite there is no bad meat." It was best to be thankful for what he could get. He could either eat often on the cheap or risk having an unwanted encounter with the local police. If he went to the nicer neighborhoods, the upper classes would summon the law to 'take out the trash'. Try as he might to blend into the shadows it wouldn't be long before blue-bloods sniffed him out. Trying to move into a middle-class neighborhood of Seattle wouldn't work in the long run either, as the Aristos had their own uses for the bourgeoisie and therefore had their dogs be on the lookout for the "undesirables".
With a sigh, Pankraz Menschenfresser began tidying up. The bits of ripped, torn and bloody clothing needed to be gathered and disposed of in some place where their condition wouldn't be noticed. Just throwing those clothes into the water wouldn't do as there wasn't much of a current to carry last night's wrapping very far away. The wrapping from last night's meal might float into the locks leading to Puget Sound or they might find their way to the salmon ladder, possibly getting stuck there. Soon, all of the wrappings had been put into a large plastic trash liner.
Bag in hand, Pankraz bent the knees, spine and neck of his ten foot tall frame, so that he now stood just six feet feet tall. He uttered a brief spell to surround himself in a glamour, causing all looking in his direction to only notice the very forgettable figure a nondescript man. From under the south end of the Ballard Bridge, he walked a bit westward, in the direction of the Fisherman's Terminal. He found there a suitable trash bin that had other refuse, including fish heads and fish guts, already within it. He emptied his bag into it. He continued heading west a bit longer.
Soon he arrived at Caffè Appassionato. While he only appeared to be a six foot tall man, getting his real body through the cafe door this morning, or any morning, made it appear as if he might have been drinking. With the money he'd found in the wrappings of last night's repast, Pankraz Menschenfresser ordered a double Café Cubano with a thick dollop of sweet sugar foam, to go. It might have been nice to drink at the cafe, but he couldn't glamour the chairs there to support his weight.
When his drink was concocted, the troll navigated himself out through the cafe doors, onto the street and back under the Ballard Bridge.
It began with an Autumn breeze..., the dryness of summer finally giving way to cooler but not uncomfortable temperatures. Still, because it was cooler, because it was Autumn, the breeze gently moved the scents of the city from the west to the east. Now, the scents of kaffee did not evaporate into the dryness, finding their way to the Ballard Bridge, underneath it, into his nostrils and tickling his desire. The scents of the early morning were the best, before the streets became clogged with automobiles and combustion engines. Not that the scents of the late night didn't have their appeal, like meat and ale from the nearby restaurants.
Speaking of meat and ale, last night's repast had been thoroughly pickled. Oh, well, as his ancestors said, "For a good appetite there is no bad meat." It was best to be thankful for what he could get. He could either eat often on the cheap or risk having an unwanted encounter with the local police. If he went to the nicer neighborhoods, the upper classes would summon the law to 'take out the trash'. Try as he might to blend into the shadows it wouldn't be long before blue-bloods sniffed him out. Trying to move into a middle-class neighborhood of Seattle wouldn't work in the long run either, as the Aristos had their own uses for the bourgeoisie and therefore had their dogs be on the lookout for the "undesirables".
With a sigh, Pankraz Menschenfresser began tidying up. The bits of ripped, torn and bloody clothing needed to be gathered and disposed of in some place where their condition wouldn't be noticed. Just throwing those clothes into the water wouldn't do as there wasn't much of a current to carry last night's wrapping very far away. The wrapping from last night's meal might float into the locks leading to Puget Sound or they might find their way to the salmon ladder, possibly getting stuck there. Soon, all of the wrappings had been put into a large plastic trash liner.
Bag in hand, Pankraz bent the knees, spine and neck of his ten foot tall frame, so that he now stood just six feet feet tall. He uttered a brief spell to surround himself in a glamour, causing all looking in his direction to only notice the very forgettable figure a nondescript man. From under the south end of the Ballard Bridge, he walked a bit westward, in the direction of the Fisherman's Terminal. He found there a suitable trash bin that had other refuse, including fish heads and fish guts, already within it. He emptied his bag into it. He continued heading west a bit longer.
Soon he arrived at Caffè Appassionato. While he only appeared to be a six foot tall man, getting his real body through the cafe door this morning, or any morning, made it appear as if he might have been drinking. With the money he'd found in the wrappings of last night's repast, Pankraz Menschenfresser ordered a double Café Cubano with a thick dollop of sweet sugar foam, to go. It might have been nice to drink at the cafe, but he couldn't glamour the chairs there to support his weight.
When his drink was concocted, the troll navigated himself out through the cafe doors, onto the street and back under the Ballard Bridge.