<strong>It’s 5 oclock somewhere</strong><br/><br/>Sometimes mornings just show up unannounced. One minute the place is at rest and the next even the sheets and blankets are restless. There’s no one to blame really, although some try. Others see it as numerology. Possibly a birth sign virus or something that just won’t go away and die quietly.<br/><br/>But numerology, well that give it order doesn’t it. Dissecting a man’s life by adding the year, month, and day of his birth all together until you get to a single number.  Now that’s amazing.<br/><br/>“It’s complete bolshie!” Horace Neglee said after a few moments spent adding with his fingers.<br/><br/>Hmmm…Came the reply from the news paper with it’s headlines staring back at Horace from across the table.<br/><br/>“Says here I’m a two!” Horace grumbled. “So what’s it say?”<br/><br/>“You wish to read it for yourself Mon Ami?” the paper said with a French accent.<br/><br/>Horace stared hard at the headlines. French was a mystery . Oh, he could get past the traffic signs and street address but to comprendre Horace relied on…<br/><br/>“Charmon, how would you like to suck my wanker?” Horace growled and tore the paper to bits.<br/><br/>“For the millionth time, my name es Chaumont!” the wirey Frenchman said to the large short tempered bloke destroying the “The Daily Liberation” as if it were a New York phone book only smaller.<br/><br/>“Fine! Why are we here?” Horace asked as he stomped on some of the pieces that had fallen on the sidewalk.<br/><br/>“For the ambiance,” Chaumont Butts replied.<br/><br/>“Who’s that?” Horace asked as he sat back down.<br/><br/>Chaumont rolled his eyes. “Not who, what.”<br/><br/>“Ahh“  Horace replied not really sure what to make of it. “So’ right then eh?”<br/><br/>“Oui”<br/><br/>Horace eyed the tiny cup between Charmon‘s thumb and finger. Not a proper size for tea. Epresso. He’d tried it once. Never again. He wasn’t gonna pay 8 euro for a tablespoon of hot tar. The stuff was just foul.<br/><br/>“We’re just havin a sit down before we blag the ambiance,” Horace mumbled as he watched a bee hover near the table.<br/><br/>“Oui”<br/><br/>