sjrozan

My corner deli has a Greek name but is run by a couple of Irish brothers. The counter guys are Mexicans. The newsstand owner across the street is a handsome but dour Yemenite with a bushy mustache. The guy who works for him is Pakistani, but he's away this week. A part-timer, a stoner kid from the neighborhood, is filling in, and he came to the deli to get the boss's breakfast. The conversation with the counter guy went like this:

"It's, uh, for Abdul. He wants -- "

"I know what he want."

"Cool. Uh, he takes his coffee -- "

"I know how he take it."

"And, uh, a roll -- "

"Butter roll. I know."

"Cool. Uh, how much?"

"He no pay."

"Uh?"

"Here, take. Make him happy."

"Uh, what?"

"He Saddam's nephew. So now he sad."

The counter guy says this in perfect deadpan. The stoner looks over his shoulder at the newsstand. "Uh, he is?"

"Claro. Pero, no say nothing. He keep it secret. Next!"

Next is me. I don't order: the counter guy knows what I want, too. I do pay, though, and walk out just behind the stoner. "Hey," he says. "Uh, did you know -- "

"Nope," I say. "He keeps it secret."

"Uh," says the stoner. He nods. "Cool. That's cool." And crosses the street, to give his boss his breakfast, and make him happy.

sjrozan I'm a writer, at work on my 11th book. This blog is a record of random and less-random thoughts. If you want to know more about me, check my website, linked here. I also had a blog going from spring through late fall 2004 about the publishing process for my 9th book, ABSENT FRIENDS. That blog's called "Progress" and you can find the link here. I won't make any more entries but I'm leaving it up in case anyone's interested; the process is more or less the same from book to book.
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Previous Entry :: Next Entry Read/Post Comments (8)		2007-01-05 1:50 AM New York, that beautiful mosaic My corner deli has a Greek name but is run by a couple of Irish brothers. The counter guys are Mexicans. The newsstand owner across the street is a handsome but dour Yemenite with a bushy mustache. The guy who works for him is Pakistani, but he's away this week. A part-timer, a stoner kid from the neighborhood, is filling in, and he came to the deli to get the boss's breakfast. The conversation with the counter guy went like this: "It's, uh, for Abdul. He wants -- " "I know what he want." "Cool. Uh, he takes his coffee -- " "I know how he take it." "And, uh, a roll -- " "Butter roll. I know." "Cool. Uh, how much?" "He no pay." "Uh?" "Here, take. Make him happy." "Uh, what?" "He Saddam's nephew. So now he sad." The counter guy says this in perfect deadpan. The stoner looks over his shoulder at the newsstand. "Uh, he is?" "Claro. Pero, no say nothing. He keep it secret. Next!" Next is me. I don't order: the counter guy knows what I want, too. I do pay, though, and walk out just behind the stoner. "Hey," he says. "Uh, did you know -- " "Nope," I say. "He keeps it secret." "Uh," says the stoner. He nods. "Cool. That's cool." And crosses the street, to give his boss his breakfast, and make him happy. Read/Post Comments (8) Previous Entry :: Next Entry Back to Top