Pork Chops And The Blonde Woman
I am not a repressed personality, exactly, and yet I have these episodes which lead me to believe I'm wrong about that.
I see him out ot the corner of my eye now, whereas before it was just an idea, me being silly, thinking about dancing like PeeWee Herman in public places, to the muzak; in the grocery store, to the theatre chain theme song; in front of the audience, only there I also fly, swooping over their heads like one of those whatchamacallits, you know, the purple martin.
Today at work I saw him, that is me, dancing to a disco song in front of the mirrors in Willie Roaf's excercise room. He doesn't embarrass me, or scare me, even though he maybe should, him being there and all. It doesn't seem like normality, but so much doesn't if I really examine it. I'm not really into the examining all that much so I don't know what to think about some of these things, when they become alive on their own. I guess I should just be polite. Nice to meet you.
Wednesday is Jamaican Jerk Pork Chop day at the Robert's Fresh Food Market. The "e" in Robert has one of those dashes over it, if you get me. It's a grocery store serving plate lunches, but I mostly get them for dinner right before they throw them out. Doesn't look like the Chops are too popular. Probably too spicey.
The server is talking to a stock boy. The server says while I wait patiently that it doesn't seem right if he just have two dimes that they charging him like that and the stock boy says somewhat proudly the same thing happened to him and he was lookin' at five but they had to reduce the charges on account of something I didn't understand because now I was thinking about those pork chops.
"Whatchu need?" the server asked me.
"Pork Chop Dinner," I said.
"Pork Chop Dinner," she lilted, sounding for some reason impressed.
She was putting down a heavy bed of yellow rice, which was a good beginning. And then she laid on top of it two large chops and juiced them good with gravey. "You see I'm giving you two chops instead of one," she said.
"Yes, that look's good, " I said
"Just supposed to give you one," she said.
"Yeah, last time I got two, but..."
"You should try them first, they spicey."
"I know, I like it like that. I know about 'em, I've eaten everything ya'll cook here."
"Must be a bachelor," the woman standing beside me said.
"Yes," I said.
"You telling a story," the server said.
"Why you say that?" I said.
"'Cause I seen you in here with your woman," she said.
"Not me."
"Yes you."
The woman standing next to me said to the server, "He sounds guilty."
"I wish I were (sort of) but there is no one now so you must have seen someone else."
"Take off your glasses," the server said.
I raised the black lenses and looked at her brown to brown.
"Yeah, I saw you," she said.
"Now you've hurt my feelings, not being able to tell me from the others."
"You was talking to a blonde woman and I said 'you not having a plate today' and you said, 'no, you was eating at home.'"
"Blonde huh?"
"He's guilty," the woman beside me said.
"Not of this, but I do like the way you tell a story, I'm just a little hurt you think I'm someone else. I would recognize you if I saw you again." This young woman had never served me before. She was most decidedly not Drucilla, who is prettier, but would be too timid to serve me an extra illegal pork chop.
The server printed out a bar code tag and after sticking it to the side of the styrofoam container handed the meal over.
"Nice weight," I said.
"Check the tag," she said.
She had under charged me.
"Nice, thanks," I said.
"They gonna have me throw 'em all out in a little while."
I nodded to the woman standing beside me and took my leave.
At the register, checking out, a blonde woman about my age queried my cashier as to the location of the small hand held plastic baskets one might use to shop for small amounts and the cashier did not know what the hell she was talking about, and after the woman had disappeared, said as much to me. I thought about taking up for the blonde woman, she was not crazy afterall, but thought better of it, hell, I did not even know that blonde woman. Maybe she was crazy.
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I am not a repressed personality, exactly, and yet I have these episodes which lead me to believe I'm wrong about that.
I see him out ot the corner of my eye now, whereas before it was just an idea, me being silly, thinking about dancing like PeeWee Herman in public places, to the muzak; in the grocery store, to the theatre chain theme song; in front of the audience, only there I also fly, swooping over their heads like one of those whatchamacallits, you know, the purple martin.
Today at work I saw him, that is me, dancing to a disco song in front of the mirrors in Willie Roaf's excercise room. He doesn't embarrass me, or scare me, even though he maybe should, him being there and all. It doesn't seem like normality, but so much doesn't if I really examine it. I'm not really into the examining all that much so I don't know what to think about some of these things, when they become alive on their own. I guess I should just be polite. Nice to meet you.
Wednesday is Jamaican Jerk Pork Chop day at the Robert's Fresh Food Market. The "e" in Robert has one of those dashes over it, if you get me. It's a grocery store serving plate lunches, but I mostly get them for dinner right before they throw them out. Doesn't look like the Chops are too popular. Probably too spicey.
The server is talking to a stock boy. The server says while I wait patiently that it doesn't seem right if he just have two dimes that they charging him like that and the stock boy says somewhat proudly the same thing happened to him and he was lookin' at five but they had to reduce the charges on account of something I didn't understand because now I was thinking about those pork chops.
"Whatchu need?" the server asked me.
"Pork Chop Dinner," I said.
"Pork Chop Dinner," she lilted, sounding for some reason impressed.
She was putting down a heavy bed of yellow rice, which was a good beginning. And then she laid on top of it two large chops and juiced them good with gravey. "You see I'm giving you two chops instead of one," she said.
"Yes, that look's good, " I said
"Just supposed to give you one," she said.
"Yeah, last time I got two, but..."
"You should try them first, they spicey."
"I know, I like it like that. I know about 'em, I've eaten everything ya'll cook here."
"Must be a bachelor," the woman standing beside me said.
"Yes," I said.
"You telling a story," the server said.
"Why you say that?" I said.
"'Cause I seen you in here with your woman," she said.
"Not me."
"Yes you."
The woman standing next to me said to the server, "He sounds guilty."
"I wish I were (sort of) but there is no one now so you must have seen someone else."
"Take off your glasses," the server said.
I raised the black lenses and looked at her brown to brown.
"Yeah, I saw you," she said.
"Now you've hurt my feelings, not being able to tell me from the others."
"You was talking to a blonde woman and I said 'you not having a plate today' and you said, 'no, you was eating at home.'"
"Blonde huh?"
"He's guilty," the woman beside me said.
"Not of this, but I do like the way you tell a story, I'm just a little hurt you think I'm someone else. I would recognize you if I saw you again." This young woman had never served me before. She was most decidedly not Drucilla, who is prettier, but would be too timid to serve me an extra illegal pork chop.
The server printed out a bar code tag and after sticking it to the side of the styrofoam container handed the meal over.
"Nice weight," I said.
"Check the tag," she said.
She had under charged me.
"Nice, thanks," I said.
"They gonna have me throw 'em all out in a little while."
I nodded to the woman standing beside me and took my leave.
At the register, checking out, a blonde woman about my age queried my cashier as to the location of the small hand held plastic baskets one might use to shop for small amounts and the cashier did not know what the hell she was talking about, and after the woman had disappeared, said as much to me. I thought about taking up for the blonde woman, she was not crazy afterall, but thought better of it, hell, I did not even know that blonde woman. Maybe she was crazy.
- jimlouis 10-25-2001 1:58 am