The scene was an open reception, an all-you-can-eat gathering of somewhat peculiar dishes; clumsy, colourful terrines made from Mangos/Asparagus/MoldyPeaches/SageSausages/PickedSardines/PinkBitsOfGinger/YellowPaprikas/ShreddedPumpkin...., and green salsa soup and vegetable rice croquettes and helpful condiments layed out, like an entire kitchen turned upside down--hinting the flavours of a certain purplish-bubbly pot au feu. It looked like it had lumps of coal in them: YUMMY
A frivolous, flamboyant feast it was.

I took back what looked like an unknown vegetable wrapped steadfast in EggishRicePaper(so....is it an egg? Or rice paper?--the uncharted mysteries of food, oh.., so many..). Curiously, I hadn't intended to bring that with me. I had no intentions of consuming it whatsoever--and yet, it lay flat stuck on my plate like a stubborn snailish-sponge, unnverving in every available sense.
How provocative a dish could be!

I got on my bus("my" bus..a bus I've never ridden, never seen; but somehow, knew. Just as one could easily imagine, how delightfully squirmish MashedBananas would feel like between their toes--make that Cold February Morning Just Got Out Of Bed toes!--- and yet, have likely not to ever been in such a state.)..and actually, my bus had left off, zooming past with my dish of EggishRicePaper wobbling on one of its many anonymous seats, just as I had left for the restroom.
How violent a bus could leave!

I fixed my heart and snapped into the restroom, only to find myself half-naked as I came out. My working hours at the bistro have printed this illusion no doubt, as just last night, I was fixing my apron to hide my jeans..and I quickly back-hugged a favourite friend;

"I've lost my undies!" although I still had my underwear on.
"You have your undies on," she snapped, "Look here. See?"
:) She is one of my favourite friends, you see..

I told her about the latest rave of MysteryNovels: she smiled excitedly, promising me she'd read it first chance she got.

"She was beautiful," he implied, "BeautifulVibrantBeauuutiful."
Then he paused, for a few collective moments. "His daughter--Chrissy--she was another beauty. The clashingly beautiful type, you can never seem to get away from."

*      *      *      * 

Each individual was immersed in their own, seperate, capricious, highly-careless thoughts.