Urban Development Woes

I dreamed my neighborhood had been rezoned or something and gotten an influx of new residents. The first thing to go was my sense of privacy and security. People were cutting across my property to get to the local burrito joint and using it as a shortcut to get home from school. 

First an old lady, who I let slide, but then a couple of surly, entitled kids, one of whom looked like Wilmer Valderrama, came through, uninvited. Laughing and joking, they traipsed across my land from end to end, disrespecting fences and gates. I decided enough was enough and spoke to them harshly. 

"This is private property," I grumpily told them. "You can't just come walking through here. And that goes for grandma, too." I made a mental commitment to get some No Trespassing signs at the local hardware store.

Vivianne was living next door. From my chair outside, I could see her when she arrived home from school. Every day she'd show up at the same time, the bus dropping her off right in front of my house. I'd watch her go from the street and up through her property, where she'd disappear into her trailer. Trying to be neighborly, I would make it a point to catch her and wave her over to say hi.

I decided to check out the cozy little burrito joint that had sprung up a couple of blocks away and was causing so much foot traffic in the neighborhood. It had a very personal feel to it, as the chef would let you watch as he made his creation for you. 

He was kind of a guru at inventing gourmet, off-menu masterpieces just for you, using your order as a kind of jumping off point. He seemed to have an almost psychic ability to tailor the dish to your exact wants and needs as a human being.

I stood in line for a while as I pondered what type of specialty food I would get. I kept coming up blank, so I ordered a super burrito. I was disappointed with myself for my lack of creativity in ordering, but the chef went to work making me a plate that showed off his amazing culinary and divinatory skills. 

His work was almost like a magic show. I watched as he created a some innovations such as almond stuffed avocados for appetizers. He'd slice a bunch of avocados in half and, using some slight of hand, he'd turn the avocado seed into a handful of almonds, which he would then crush into powder by banging his fist on the table. He'd then crumble the powder into the half shell of the avocado and roll it up into a little ball that looked like a perfectly round little avocado.

He performed this trick and then popped the product into his mouth, just to show me how delicious they were. I couldn't wait to sample the stuff myself. 

Neither, apparently, could one of his other customers. One of his Mexican friends was behind the counter with him and started snorting up some crushed almonds and walnuts right off of the silver serving tray. I mean, literally, he put his face down on the platter and closed off one nostril with his finger and vacuumed the stuff up with his other nostril. 

I was getting antsy, but the chef didn't disappoint. He warned me as he handed me my order, but I still wasn't prepared for the actual weight of the meal. It was probably a good ten pounds of food that he somehow managed to cram on to the sagging Dixie plate. I nodded approvingly as I took the food. I had to draw it close to my chest because it threatened to throw off my whole center of gravity.

Leaving the restaurant, I dropped the plate on the floor as I tried to navigate the crowd. I picked it back up, only slightly worse for wear and tear. It seems he'd put enough food on the plate to account for spillages, since he didn't provide a bag or even a tinfoil cover. 

I made my way home, going through an alley which reminded me of Chico's avenues. I noted some well-groomed weed plants that could have actually passed for ornamental trees, growing in a small orchard-like grove in a cute little backyard. I wondered how they'd fare this school year, with all the kids using this route as a shortcut home from school. 

I also noted a market that was definitely a Chico fixture along my route. This confirmed my geo-locational intuition that I was somehow in a mashup of Chico and Loma Rica. Loma Chico. Chico Rica. I wasn't sure I was liking the merger.

By the time I got home, I barely had any food left on my plate, which was now folded in half like a taco. I was ravenously hungry, so it was a good thing I'd ordered a "super" rather than just a regular burrito. He'd also thrown in a six or possibly eight-pack of an unknown canned beverage that I was curious to sample. 

Alas, I woke up at this point, and now I'm craving burritos. But at least I'm not too worried about having to put up No Trespassing signs. The pandemic and my locked gate are working just fine at preventing unwanted human incursions.