Algebra de Legman

Awakening from a dead fast sleep, the shamble leg man reached for the Popular Mechanics magazine stowed on top of his bedstead bureau. He turned to the middle of the magazine, to an article (perhaps a folio or expose) that read, the Guatemalan government has decided to add Algebra de Legman to the grammar school curriculum. After thumbing through the folio (perhaps an article or expose) the shamble leg man placed the magazine back on top of the bedstead bureau and lit his cob. Inhaling and exhaling like a tugboat steam chimney, he decided to put on his shoes, a pair of tan and black loafers with broad wingtip flaps. He placed his cob on top of the bedstead bureau steadily, careful not to disrupt the trimmings and bits and pieces that sat abutting his pocket-comb and clippers. On the bedstead bureau, other than his cob, pocket-comb, clippers and the Popular Mechanics magazine, sat three old coins of no known currency, a red button, a picture of a friend of his dead father, another picture of someone he had no idea who, a chewing gum wrapper, Beechnut peppermint, a spare pocket-comb missing several important teeth, an empty tin of Beeves’ Ginger Ale, a half empty package of Whisky Sour mix, a wooden cock, two macramé doilies and a book he had not, nor ever would, get around to reading.