torkelsbirds

The quarantine of guests and residents of the Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa seemed to be working.  the Face of Everyman was now free to worry about the next crisis: sunburn.  He hoped that SPF-50 was good enough, even at these high latitudes, to prevent burns, ageing and exfoliation.  Paradoxically, a deeply chiseled face needs a smooth complexion.

Barney had waited to shop at the Mom & Pop store for a time when fewer folks would be present and offer the spread of contagious respiratory diseases.  His timing was bad.  Stores along the arcade entrance to the Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa were all closed to observe Super Tuesday.  “What kind of holiday is that?” he asked rhetorically.  the Face of Everyman remained mute.  He was experiencing his own problems.  His 401K had tanked.

Agnes had been loitering around the Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa.  None of the eligible males she had been corresponding with seemed to have shown up for Spring rituals.  the Face of Everyman was loathed to interfere but he couldn’t help but suggest she try the marshes and water holes over by the municipal golf course. The guys were known to play a couple of rounds before reluctantly starting a family. 

the Face of Everyman enjoyed early success with his hydrogen powered jet-pack.  Seen below is young Orville Wright, dare devil aeronaut home based at the Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa experiencing lift off utilizing hydrogen; with the only residue being water.  Onlookers seemed unable to comprehend the historic significance.

the Face of Everyman had opened a new Sports Club and Gym at the Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa.  Not all of the kinks had been worked out as of opening day.  Seen below is Cheeky trying to remain on the jogging course.  The venerable sage was quick to order the ever reliable squirrel cage.    Amazon promised it by Sundown.

It built slowly.  A resistance among the residents and guests of the Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa to being photographed while eating and bathing.  Seen below, two activist show their resentment.  the Face of Everyman tried to reason with them.  He agreed that the kindly ‘ld pensioner staged these events with seed and fruit; but wasn’t it worth it?  Besides their likeness was viewed on 63 screens daily.  Nevertheless a boycott was in the making.

Father Robin, the circuit rider, was back in his home parish, the Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa.  His morning ritual of Tai chi and Tibetan Throat Chanting awakened the Face of Everyman who had not gotten a good night’s sleep as migrating Geese honked their way North thru out the night.

A stranger stopped by the Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa.  the Face of Everyman used up all of his greetings found in current spoken languages.  Finally when he got down to words in the ancient language of mesoamerica: Nahuatl did he get any response.  From then on they had fun telling off-color jokes about Hernan Cortez.

the Face of Everyman had set out a fair amount of cracked corn.  It was meant to become sour mash then distilled into his favorite Scotch.  The Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa had a peat bog and a secret distillery.  If the birds, squirrels and deer would stop eating his raw ingredients, he’d be bottling and labeling by next week. 

The widely feared Night Stalker was back.  For millennium the Face of Everyman has been warning the good folks at the Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa about this fiendish villain.  His return did not bode well and was a prophesy.  The venerable sage shuddered.