Biscuit's Farmers Market Era

Marcus left for the Saturday market at eight-thirty with a reusable tote and a vague plan to come back with tomatoes. He returned ninety minutes later with one heirloom tomato, a jar of local honey, a small wheel of something from a goat dairy, and approximately zero dignity.

Biscuit's Farmers Market Era

The story, as he told it: Biscuit sat down in front of the cheese sample tray at the third stall in, locked eyes with the vendor, and simply refused to move until justice was served. The vendor, a retired guy named Alan who apparently told Marcus he has a golden at home, gave Biscuit two samples. This was a mistake. Biscuit then planted himself there like a furry immovable object while Marcus apologized to the people trying to shop and the cheese man just kept laughing and offering more. Marcus says Biscuit made them fifteen dollars in sympathy sales. I think Marcus is being generous with that math, but I wasn't there, so.

He came home. The cheese did not.

They pulled up to the driveway and I watched from the doorway because I could already hear Marcus narrating the whole trip to nobody in particular as he got out of the car. Biscuit spotted the paper bag and that was that, full paws-on-knees situation while Marcus tried to save the honey. He did not save the honey. It survived, but only barely. Marcus is now talking about making it a weekly thing, which I'm sure Alan and his cheese samples will be delighted to hear. The Graveyard Shelf has no entry for Biscuit. He is, somehow, Marcus's hobby that actually stuck.