Mischief in Houston, Part V: Take a number

We have passed out of the produce section of the market and threaded our way through various tempting alcoholic drinkables, bins of spices and candies (the almond glazed pecans have Sigyn and the human female swooning), jellies, chips, cheeses, and frozen goodies.

Now we are wandering through the seafood, meat, and charcuterie. There’s a machine that instructs one to take a number.


I refuse to do so–I should be number one wherever I go! You, fishmonger! Some of your finest oysters and salmon, forthwith!

While he is wrapping those up, I will take a little rest. It’s a warm day, I’m full of dim sum and cheese samples, and I need to cool off. Luckily, there is a nice little Jotun-friendly spot right next to the squab.


Uh oh. Danger! The bakery is dead ahead. I predict we lose the human female, her Knittery friend, and probably Sigyn somewhere in the Bermuda Triangle whose limits are defined by tres leches cake, fresh pão de queijo (Brazilian cheese breads), and the almond croissants.

Oops. We’ve lost Sigyn already, in the kitchenwares department.


Distracted entirely, making friends with a cream-loving sauropod…

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