I woke up this morning in La Jolla in a house shaped like a banana but the color of a mango. I spent a lovely night with a little shot of life that went by the name of T-Ray. She has one of those semi-shaved side haircuts, a pet pig named Nacho, an old school Nintendo with a power pad and an ability to drink single malt whiskey like a Kenyan after running 26.2 miles.
While T-Ray made breakfast – honey cured bacon from Da-Le Ranch and milk fed chicken eggs, I took Nacho for a walk. For those of you who have never walked a pig, its pretty much just like walking a dog. Except a pig oinks the whole time and nobody came up and wanted to rub the pig’s head like they do a dog. The advantage of the pig versus the dog is you could ride it home if you got in a bind (maybe a sprained ankle), or if you’re a real asshole, you could always eat it.
As Nacho and I got about five minutes down the road we came along a giant field of alligator pears (or as you call them in California, avocados). I personally love alligator pears having raised them for a summer a few years ago on the outskirts of Lima, Peru.
As I followed the alligator pear field, I came to a giant driveway that said “No Trespassing.” Knowing that nobody ever got anywhere by taking no for an answer, we headed up to the gigantic house. We crested the massive driveway and were welcomed by an enormous statue. It couldn’t have been less than fifteen feet tall and was made of pure bronze. The statue had quite a resemblance to Magnum P.I. holding a sack of alligator pears in one hand and a pistol in the other.
