Mr. Velazquez Attempts Kindness, But I Am Not Accepting

I am being bored, so I am deciding to go for walk. I am trudging despondently down many MetroArea streets. Elm. Chestnut. Oak. Martin Luther King Blvd.

All the same.

Except Martin Luther King Blvd. Man is asking if I am buying crack, which I am not buying. Why would man think I am buying crack? Why would anyone be on Martin Luther King Blvd. at 12:14 am buying crack?

Actually, I am not being sure of what crack is.

I am missing Dr. Carson Gregory, who was having many fine suggestions for late night calming solutions. He often mentioned nightcap.

I will have nightcap of last of pills and Zima.

Tomorrow, I will be meeting pharmacist brother of Miss Albania. For possible dating only. Not for pills.

As I walk past Ernesto's, Mr. Velazquez calls out "Ay! Senorita Bulgaria! Perhaps rolled tacos? You like? You like?"

Oh! But I cannot like! How can I forget my face in tacos? With lovingly prepared guacamole from Mr. Velazquez coming out of my nose with violent sneezing for several days after?

Oh! It is being sad. Pavla Nimkova is ruining tater tots and tacos for me. What is next? Turnips?