Wandering the streets of Boston Khan remembers he was told by friends of his that this was the best place to get a bowl of hot Beans.

Not sure if he wanted beans before the tea party he was in quite a deliema of what he should do. He could not stop the fresh smell of all the bean shops on the water front. He really wanted the beans but he knew he would be playing music out his butt at the tea party and the boss would surly frown at that ... not to mention all the ladies in the family.

He was sure that if he had only one bowl he would be able to contain his flute from tooting. So into the nearest bean shop he went and order himself a big, bigger, biggest bowl of baked beans he could get. 

It tasted  so good he had to order another.....he could pop open a window at the party and stand by it and if anything smelled out of place he could simple say it was a passing dog.

Beans by far, out weighed his need for tea at the moment.

The tea party was in full swing and the men had retired to the den to smoke cigars and sip something other than tea. JM_Browning sat in his corner chair by the fireplace, his dog Jack was sprawled out on the rug between himself and the adjoining chair occupied by Khan. The beans had worked their magic on poor Khan and he accidentally let a small "toot" escape. JM_Browning looked over at his dog and yelled "Jack!"

Khan thought to himself that this was going to work perfectly if old JM_Browning figured the dog was doing it. So with a little more bravery, Khan let out a larger blast from his derriere, which immediately felt ALOT better.

Again, JM_Browning looked over at his dog and again he yelled "Jack!"

Khan was beside himself with glee, he was happy he had eaten those beans now and figured he may as well just get rid of all the built up pressure he had left in him. Khan leaned sideways and let loose a horrendous blast which rattled the ornaments on the fireplace mantle.

JM_Browning finally got up and kicked his dog in the arse and again yelled "JACK!"

"get up and move before he shits all over you!"

Pickles gets out of his Packard after pahking his cah in the yahd.

Hey, what's with that annoying kid who keeps asking if I regurgitate authors and like apples, especially these apples?  I think I'm going to see one of those Boston Red Stockings games.  I'm willing to bet $5 they don't make it to a World Series for DECADES!

Nods at a local postman and gets trapped in a conversation.

Wow!  That mail man thinks he knows EVERYTHING!  I'm going to need to see a therapist after this . . . or at least find a good bar.  You know the type . . . a good bar where everyone knows your name.  With a good looking bartender and a bitter, angry waitress . . . and some accountant always bitching about his wife.  I think they'd be glad if I came to that bar.