Max, Part 2 - The coffee was it's normal semi-palatable serving, but the breakfast-sandwich,

that third-ways eaten, went in the trash.  Second time this week.  One thing for sure, max wasn't going back there, to wait overly long, for a more-sizzle-than-steak-and-egg that ... didn't taste quite right.  Sure, the car line had been long - and seemingly getting linger -the ads about everywhere.  Well they could all have at it.  A partially eaten sandwich, from earlier in the week, lay near the bottom of his wastebasket.

Was going to be a long day, since he probably would not have time to stop anywhere later in the day.  He turned on his computer.  Two or three flies sped by him, enroute to somewhere.  He swatted the one, the other one or two dove toward the earlier discarded feast.  A bit late in the year, Max paused, but didn't give the winter-time flies any further thought.

From up the street, he heard that familiar 4-cylander engine, it entered his parking lot as if there was no this-morning.  His wall clock read 7:37.  Also, the second time this week.  He and ruthie would have to have a little talk.

Max didn't get it.  What was ruthie expecting?  Three feet of snow to fall, between where she had parked, and the front door?  Anyway, he'd call her in to his office a few minutes after 8; that was her start time.  

Some minutes later, max advised her, that perhaps she should pretend her little car was one of the company vans.

"Huh?"  Ruthie, evidently, didn't get it.

"Ruthie," her boss spoke, "if you don't slow down, they'll put you in jail."

What max didn't tell ruthie was, anything about sonny, his neighbor.  Guy certainly wasn't himself, not since he'd been arrested for doing the same sort of nonsense.  "Safety hazard..." horse-spit, sonny was just being sonny.   But, evidently, county wasn't near  the same place his pop had been a "guest" at, back in the day, for drag racing - or for whatever other vehicular stupidity.

Break over, back to 2021.