marox_pass_breakfast_is_served fyn gula "breakfast is trail mix, grated potatoes with hot pepper flakes and feta cheese, and nine espressos, unless you're rather careful about what you drink, i have barley green with msm, sago palm vitamin c powder, oxygen drops, and neutralizer." copello said, busily frying the organic potatoes in virgin olive oil. "do you have any robin hill granola?" nabiscus asked, remembering the days when copello and he ate it on the back porch of the old farmhouse built in 19oo. "of course," copello said, pushing a blue bowl across the counter. seconds later, he followed the pleasant mixture of grains, maple syrup, and nuts with a 195o's enamel pitcher of raw goat's milk. "how about you malay?" copello asked, and for some reason the question seemed obtuse, as if he was an out of work actor recitng lines in a small towne play. "how about me?" maylay asked, returning his gaze, frustrated with the problem of locating copello's eyes beneath the oversized chef's hat. "my hunger is not only in my stomach, master. i want to eat fear. i want to devour nylem's hold on you." 010623 ... log burning fire there's plenty of that to go around. 060228 what's it to you? who go blather from