Feastingtide

So on the hottest damn day of the year, this outrageously dressed stranger waltzes—literally waltzes!—down the street and right through my back door! Who does that? I nearly threw them out, but they got down on their knees, right on my brand new rug. “Oh, mistress Appius, purveyor of culinary delights, won’t you give this humble musician an audience?” I couldn’t say no. I couldn’t say anything. I was struck speechless by the sheer audacity of it all.