Earplugs

Its a kinder, gentler afternoon; a welcome change after day upon scorching day of summer's torrid punishment. M (also known as Dr.T, praise be unto him) steps out into the warm sunlight and closes his eyes. The soft wind ruffles the grass and makes the tiny flowers dance among the golden blades.

His mind wanders away, to distant lands beyond the seas. To rivers that ebb at dusk, leaving silver sands in the moonlight. To rolling grassland speckled with gnarled trees. To foreign places, to familiar faces, to highland malts sweet as honey.

M: This is good shit, man! mmmm

Insignificant aide (Ia, curses unto him and his ignorant lot): Yes, sire. This batch of weed has been simply divine. These are good times we live in, O esteemed leader, when one can find such exquisite leaves right outside one's own apartment.