The two men walked along the Fisherman’s Wharf. It was their first trip back to San Francisco since the 60s.
“Look at this place, it’s hardly changed,” Larry mused.
“Not like us, eh?” Tony chuckled. “A couple of successful business men like us. Hard to believe we lived here as penniless hippies.”
“And yet we always had money for dope.”
“Fortunately, not that much money for dope. At least we never fried our brains.”
“That’s true.” Larry stopped walking. “Hey Tony, remember those flowered cows?”
Tony laughed. “How can I forget? I wonder if our brains weren’t fried after all!”
“I still can’t believe we both had the same hallucination! Flowered cows! What the heck were we on?”
“What? You seeing flowered cows again?”
“Ah, yeah,” Larry pointed toward a small boutique adorned with 60s mementos. Two life-sized statues of brightly painted flowered cows graced the doorway.
Tony blinked. “Oh my good Lord, it’s the flowered cows! What the heck are we on?”
Larry laughed. “Nothing now, and apparently nothing back then either.”
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