It to damn hot

It is to Hot for Hepatitis
By Royal Hopper

Something happens it gets really hot in the desert. Plants turn brown, the plastic novelty cups shaped like guitars, polar bears and volcanoes melt on the sidewalks where they are left and people suddenly get very angry or very laid back.

A part of the neon jungle dedicated to the Irish in all of us - Photo by Royal Hopper

A part of the neon jungle dedicated to the Irish in all of us – Photo by Royal Hopper

Some people just sprout horns and want to fight at the drop of a hat and others go the other way and develop the attitude that 115 is just to damn hot to risks bruises or blood borne pathogens for some unnecessary disagreement..

Stand up sun bathing with a view in the City of Sin - Photo by Royal Hopper

Stand up sun bathing with a view in the City of Sin – Photo by Royal Hopper

“It is to hot for Hepatitis,” replied one guardian of order at a local establishment when confronted by a residentially challenged man he discovered sleeping under truck in the hotel parking lot suddenly jumped up apparently driven by the heat to duke it out with random strangers who stopped by to see if he was still alive.

It was just to hot, this guardian of order decided, the wrestle with a man who may or may not have a random ailment that was contagious and certainly did smell like a collection of gym socks and dirty underwear fermenting in a barrel for several hot summer days.

Just down the road later in the day a man worn out by the days travels to and from 2 for 1 well drink specials a man sits down on a sidewalk near a bedraggled homeless man sleeping nearly unconscious on a “cool spot” of the miles of Sin City sidewalks. He drains his iced drink dry and pours the last few ice cubes into his hand and starts crunching them in his teeth. The homeless man shakes himself out of his stupor aided by who knows what and looks at the source of the noise disturbing his troubled sleep.

The man looks at the unfortunate fellow shrugs his shoulder and hands the man the last of his ice cubes. The sleeping man sleepily puts the cubes in his mouth, lays back down and pushes the remains of his beverage in a clear bottle toward the other man. He stares at the bottle for several seconds then shrugs his shoulders and drains the remainder of the bottle and struggles to his feet to continue his journey to the discounted bars and sidewalks of the City of Sin.

Doo Wop

Doo Wop

He walks past a double decker bus of tourists snapping cheese cake photos of cartoon characters holding Ipod and making passes at the underage ingénues clad in bikinis, large broad brimmed straw hats and pink sunglasses and an older lady cradling a pet poodle in a baby back pack while she sips on a strawberry soda.

Summer is here in the City of Sin
Take Care Sinners

Rock on

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