The City Planner Steals My Coffee – Curse #493S

Posted on June 9, 2011


The City Planner came into my backyard as I was watering the crop. You can’t grow crops in the city limits, the City Planner said.

I stopped watering the crop and looked up at him. He was a stringy fellow, but had a strange sort of confidence.  What do you mean, I said. You telling me I can’t grow coffee beans in my own yard?

That’s what I’m saying, the City Planner said. It’s against Title Five of the subdivision regulations.

The Donkey began to make sounds: Eeeyoore Eeeyoreee.

Shut up, Donkey, I said.

And Title Ten states that livestock are not allowed in the city limits, said the City Planner.

Eeeyoore, the Donkey said.

Look, I said. Have you seen commodity prices lately? Coffee is going through the roof.

Why do you even need a donkey, said the City Planner. He’s just sitting in a pen, with what looks like empty beer cans.

You city tax assessors are all the same, I said. Communists!

I’m a city planner, said the City Planner.

What the hell is a city planner, I said. This city isn’t planned. It’s a shotgun shell that’s scattered all over the place.

Thanks, said the City Planner. That doesn’t change the fact that you can’t grow crops or have livestock on the premises.

That donkey is imported straight from South America, I said.

He has to go, said the City Planner. And it’s illegal to let animals drink alcohol.

Get the hell out of here, I said. Go or I’ll let the donkey out. You don’t want that, mister.

Eeeyyoore, said the Donkey. He was getting really flustered. He was a mean drunk too.

That night my entire crop was burnt to the ground. It could have been the City Planner but the Donkey was missing and I had last seen him playing with matches, finishing another can of beer, plotting loudly in Spanish or maybe Portuguese.

Posted in: Year 1: Curse