First thing’s first; there have been a few of you who’ve subscribed to The Gonzo Wolf. Thank you. I don’t email everything I post, but I will be hitting you up at least once a day. I post everything to Threads automatically, though; it’s a WordPress thing. I hope you enjoy what you’ll see here.

Fast forward.

It didn’t take me long to discover a writing prompt for this morning. Easy choice: there was no coffee ground, so I ventured to 7/11 aka the Bishop Arts version of Maz’s Watering Hole. Yes, I just made a sequel reference. I used “Mos Eisley” a couple of days ago in a rant. I don’t like redundancy in literature, unless I’m attempting my best JD Salinger prose.

I didn’t get kicked out of bed last night, which means my wife was sleeping deeply. Also, those gun-range approved ear plugs came in clutch. I didn’t get woken up not once while I slept last night. I’m an on again/off again snorer, you see. She is as well, but I’d never wake her; it’s cute.

It lets me know she’s still breathing in the night without fully waking up, rolling over, and seeing for myself. You can’t buy that type of comfort.

My luck, I’d forgotten to grind coffee before going to bed. I’m a bit of an early riser, so I pre-plan my mornings the night before. The open floor plan of a condo is only cool until it isn’t, even if it ever was at all. I try not to pay attention to such things. I’m a busy person, you know. Busy mucking up my mind with other shenanigans: UFO’s, politics, guitar, etc.

Now, I don’t know about you, but there is no way I can accomplish my morning porch swing ritual sans critical ingredients. I grabbed my Angus Young hat and headed to 7/11 in slides, athletic shorts, an official Starving Zoe t-shirt, and a beard resembling a bird’s nest. Radagast has officially entered the Star Wars universe, and space/time is about to tear.

My Gen-X nerds will catch my chirp.

It’s chilly in Dallas this morning, and the hair stood on my legs as I reached the outside. I almost turned around to put on pants, but I didn’t want to risk making noise; risk waking my wife. Not out of fear, mind you; she’s not a hateful person, although misunderstood at times. I was damn fearful of her when we first met; quite intimidating, to be certain. That is, until I fell in love with her. Understood, I shut the truck door, and blasted the Autograph…

(Yes. I’m that guy. Motley Lou from Hot Tub Time Machine).

When I pulled in a mere three blocks away, the Panhandle Army appeared to be nowhere in sight. Also, the parking lot was unusually empty, save for one minivan with a huge dude asleep behind the wheel; reclined, blanket and all. The whole thing shook when he rolled over. I didn’t want to wake him either, but for obvious reasons. Don’t poke the sleeping dog unless you must, and dog was the only way I could describe this poor man. Reminded me of a type of hairy pit-bull/human hybrid. Maybe a werewolf with skin allergies during the ‘return’ process. The night following the hunt. His was obviously successful but, of course, I digress.

There were minimal patrons inside the establishment, so I expected there to actually be coffee available. If there’s more than one trailer full of lawn equipment on any given morning of the work-week, then you’re not getting coffee at a Dallas 7/11. Now, I don’t mean this in a racist way whatsoever – those guys are f’ing artists with a lawn – and I respect them all highly. Hard-ass workers, the lot, and they deserve every ounce of that goddamn coffee. I can take my lazy, artistic ass elsewhere and enjoy it!

The choices were:

• Decaf
• Pecan
• Morning
• Columbian

Translation:

• Hell no
• Hell no again
• Luke warm black water
• Clear, scalding water

How in the world did a franchise known for its morning coffee drop the ball with something as trivial as coffee?

Suddenly, a cross-eyed Asian girl popped up from out of nowhere – I shit you not; I’m not trying to be hateful or racist in anyway. I’m only stating facts that were suddenly placed in my face – and offered me this swanky-ass grind-o-matic nonsense. I accepted for the sake of timing. I knew I would want to get straight home and behind the keyboard to tell this tale before the details faded.

Long story short, that wasn’t coffee either. Just tan water cosplay. I am an Army style black coffee drinker, and I love every goddamn second of it. Thank you, Uncle f’ing Sam for instilling in me the lust for this planet’s true life-blood. Now, I patiently await my queen to wake via her own wishes so that we may have coffee together. It’s a tough gig.

All things; in love.

Preach truths, toke jokes, and shoplift Amazon. I hope you all have an amazing Sunday. Except YOU; you know who you are.

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