A Different Man

I had lunch at David Bowie’s house. We had double-stacked Reuben sandwiches, a bevy of turnips, and a tray of chocolate eclairs.

I said, “You seem more relaxed than usual.”

David Bowie said, “That’s because I’ve been eating whatever I feel like. For instance last night I ate an entire gallon container of cottage cheese and then went out to my garden and ate random escargot.”

I said, “To what do you attribute these changes?”

David Bowie said, “The gradual attrition and then recent stoppage of songs on my mind’s mental plate. My mind used to be a song heliport. The ditties would arrive day and night. There was no thought to eating or taking the time to relax. Now without the arrivals of melody wrapped rhyme structures, I have fallen for the charms of delicious morsels and the doing of nothing.”

I said, “Changes are taking the pace you’re going through.”

David Bowie looked puzzled.

I said, “Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes?”

David Bowie said, “I haven’t a clue. Would you be interested in sitting in a tub of brandy infused whipped cream with me?”

I said, “Yes!”