As mentioned in these chronicles, two days ago, the day of Wednesday, also known as April 23 2014, I picked up a pair of pants that had been altered to my exact specifications of a 32 and 3/4 inseam, and then I headed to Bouchon Bakery to probe the Mallomar situation, which has been a dire and hollow situation indeed, as readers of these tales well know. What I failed to mention, dear friends, is that not only did I pick up a pair of pants on Wednesday, I also purchased another pair and left them to be altered. Now, today, April 25 2014, I returned to pick up my second pair of altered pants. I feel obliged to discuss pants for a moment. As of late my pants have felt horrifically tight, and I finally decided I must buy new, larger pants. That I did. The problem is now the larger pants seem a little too loose. Too tight or too loose but never just right. Anyhow, to return to the Mallomar at hand, of course, being near Bouchon, I went once more to decipher the situation. As I approached Bouchon I gazed at the pastry trays and realized no Mallomars were present. I got in line. It was my turn. I said: "Yes, old boy, do you have any Mallomars?" The bakery associate said: "Oh, no, no we do not." I continued: "Did you have any today?" He went on: "No, not today. In fact, I haven't seen them in a while. Ha ha. I don't know what's going on with those things! Ha ha" Me: "Ha ha." I then immediately snapped the baker associate's neck. I asked another associate if I might have a treat which was dark chocolate cakes mounted together with a white cream. I then sat outside and enjoyed the cool spring air and the budding flowers. The treat had been entitled "TKO." I pondered. I then surmised "TKO" must stand for Thomas Keller Oreo, for Thomas Keller owns Bouchon and the treat I consumed was nothing if not a giant Oreo cookie. It was fine enough, but no Mallomar. Nothing is. Except a Mallomar. A Mallomar is a Mallomar.
