After scarfing down cast off orts from the dining room of the Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa, Granny Toots casually told the Face of Everyman that he was now eligible for a $250 fine for feeding wildlife. Luckily the venerable sage had a vast armada of lawyers on retainer. Next, the Crows and Raccoons would try the same shake down tactics on every homeowner with a toppled garbage can. Would the veiled threats never end?
Lil’ Dexter wasn’t sure why he had to take a bath. He was cold and the Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa was over half way to the North Pole. the Face of Everyman cited a list of people who had braved the cold to achieve a clear head: Greeks, Romans, Samurai warriors, Baptists and perhaps even Evangelists. Dexter didn’t really care; he wanted to go home. Mom felt as tho’ she’d lost the battle. Her son would become a Hippie.
Annually the Pacific Flyway Chapter of the UFO Society met at the Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa. This year the Face of Everyman was fortunate enough to engage a UFO from Alpha Centauri to fly thru as the opening gavel signaled the beginning of a week long series of workshops. The Hospitality Suite remained packed. The mixed nuts party mix was a favorite.
Torrential rains battered the Pacific Flyway. The Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa was inundated. Chucky found the pluckiness to make his way to the flood zone to check on the health and welfare of the Face of Everyman. A true act of bravery.
Deepthroat stood in the shadows, obscured from being recognized, as he lead the Face of Everyman thru a series of Q&A towards clues to whom was the vile fiend that kept removing the movie schedules from the the Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa Guest Activities Board.
the Face of Everyman was about to ask for early retirement or reassignment to the Corporate mountain retreat. He was fed up with the daily cacophony, bickering and excrement in his face. There must be a better way to serve bird-kind than that of caretaker at the Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa. He would be glad when the migration season passed.
The klaxons blared. Sirens wailed. The Trixster had broken through security and was loose in the Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa. the Face of Everyman received only sketchy reports from his security minions: A coyote was determined to be foraging for feral cats and rodents. After a thirty minute lock down guests were allowed to roam on their own recognizance. Dawn was still two hours away. “Stay safe out there.”