3

…in the Planter’s Peanuts factory a day before the yearly inspection of contaminants a small contingent of cows from a nearby farm, wearing over-sized blue hoodies, looks over the peanut factory from the other side of a prominent, local hill-top as the final shift of workers leave for the day. The cow leader etches the raid plan in the trampled grass and gives the final instructions.

Seconds later the swarm of cows are galloping down the hill, descending on the unsuspecting peanut factory. Whilst a number of them stand guard, a few of the more nimble cows sneak in and tear open huge bags of wheat flour they’ve been carrying in their tactical ‘go-bags’. Minutes later, the entire factory is covered in a thin layer of wheat flour, the cows retreat and this is one of only three reasonable explanations for why I have to check food labels on simple shit like fucking peanuts.

2

I find it strange to call people in one of the poorest countries in the world to help me through my banking issues. 

Downright uncomfortable sometimes…

 

… (Indian accent) “Where did you lose your card sir?”

“Ummm, it was either in the Jaguar I rented or, uh, the umm, 5-star restaurant from last niiiiight…

(Indian accent) “Where was this restaurant sir?”

“Uh, well, it was in, umm Paris while I was on a 6-week vaca… you know what, I’ll be fine. I’ll figure it out. Thanks for your help big guy, say, are you okay?”

(Indian accent) “Excuse me sir, I’m trying to help you, do you need me to cancel your card?”

“No, it’s fine, I’m sure I can hire a team to… go… get… it…ba, look, do you have young kids? Have you eaten this week? I just feel bad. Not bad, like I’m not saying I pity you, because I don’t, you’re obviously doing fine. You’re okay right?”

(Indian accent) *sobs*

“Okay, I’m gonna… gooooooo. Hang in there buddy.”

*click*

1

I dedicate this to all you trees out there.