Rooster’s and farm equipment woke up Ira. He’d been nursing a migraine since they left Ethiopia. His therapist says he gets them from of stress. The last three days hadn’t improved his quest for a balanced life. All he wanted was coffee and a bagel with lox. He looked out the window at the rolling green hills of the Kenya plantation. The latter may be thousands of miles away but he felt confident there’d be good coffee downstairs.

Ira dressed slowly and continued to breathe with calm. The orbs shrank and faded as he entered the breezy dining room, lace curtains danced in the wind. Ira never smelled air this fresh. Dalia had left a fresh pot of coffee for her guests while she dealt with some business matters. Ira smiled and limped over toward the pot, his bullet graze still hurt.

Out of nowhere, Grigsby came into the room, shirtless, in African pattern pants. “Jambo! Jambo Bwana!” Grigsby sang. Ira felt the migraine orbs growing in strength again, he hurried for the coffee. Grigsby swooped in and grabbed the pot. Ira tried not to weep. Grigsby poured himself a cup, still singing. As the song came to a close he finally poured Ira a cup.

“Why are you so chipper this morning?” Ira asked.
“Ira my friend, I hope you’re well rested, we have a lot of work to do.”
“Grigs…”
“Mr. Hayakawa and I spoke, it seems our trip to Tokyo was well worth it.” Grigsby said chugging the coffee. “Damn fine coffee, like a Snickers Bar screwed an Eclaire.”

Ira considered the tasting notes and had to agree. The Pemberton palate is remarkable. The orbs came back with full force and Ira winced.

“You alright Ira?”
“I’m fine. What did Mr. Haya…”
“Hayakawa. I negotiated last night with him and we agreed on suitable terms.”
“Oh no Grigs, that makes it a verbal contract.” Ira moaned.
“Yep! Ira, we’re going to start a Japanese Game Show in the United States.”


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