A vision of hell...?

This morning, very early before I'd fully digested my breakfast, Entourage proposed a stroll. Seemed like a good idea, but rather than a bracing constitutional up the Aventine to inhale the sweet pine scents of the Orange Garden, instead they took me to a kind of hellish place, a place where no doggy sniffs could be discerned... They claimed it was the 'Covered Market' but I find it hard to believe anyone could enjoy (let alone make purchases in) the pungent intensity of the atmosphere created by those sights and smells, drowning out everything else to one whose olfactory senses are as acute as mine! I took them home directly. They'll know better next time. I requested to be left in a darkened room to recover. They braved the strike-day chaos; a mistake, and they came home chastened after a series of what seem to have been unfortunate events. They then ate cold meat, drank beer, and ate cake. I was not offered anything. I suspect they are jealous of my judgement. A gentle stroll later will perk them up.