Hum, hum (Girl–bah bumm, bumm, bumm–you’ll be a woman, soon) gotta walk to work, nice enough day, and look, there’s Au Bon Pain. Great coffee. So in we go, and oh, there’s a line. Twelve people deep. Well, that’s OK, I’m sure they’ll call out more people than that one poor girl who looks like she just began her first day on the job. . . so now I’m on line, reading The Metro, and nope, doesn’t look like she’s being replaced yet, but you’ve gotta give these things time, and The Metro is about as good as it always is . . . Why don’t the editors just start quoting the voices in their heads . . .
You know, it’s getting late, I should get to work, but there are people behind me now, and I’ve already waited 15 minutes, and the line just moved a fraction, so to hell with it, I’ll wait, and oh, yes, thanks for taking my order. No, don’t mention it, I didn’t wait that long. Just enough time to work out Fermat’s Last Theorem in my head once or twice, but hey, I’m here, so give a large coffee and a blueberry muffin please . . . no, a large coffee and a muffin. No, a muffin. The doughy treat that is not a bagel, like the blueberry bagel you’re pointing to now. A cup of the black shit that keeps me semi-freaked out on more or less a permanent basis and the flaky doughy thing that is not your manager who has finally come out of hiding, now that the shop is a bit less crowded than the Astrodome. Ah yes, Coffee, thank you. And a muff–well, OK, a bagel. No, it’s OK, I was actually in the mood for a bagel, and they’re healthier than muffins. It’s a win-win situation.
Here’s four bucks, and no, wait, I’ve got change, no . . . hang on, I’ve got change so you don’t have to give me . . . Oh, well, you are giving me 93 cents in change, even though I had the extra seven cents so that you didn’t have to . . . Well, maybe there’s a soda machine I can hit later, that’s OK . . .
Well, out in the fresh air with my coffee and bagel, and off to work, and JESUS, buddy!!! I had the light!! Don’t they have crosswalks in Assaholia, or wherever the hell you’re from? Well, the other car’s waving me across, and I’m cross–
Oops, no I’m not, because there’s an ambulance behind that car, so I’ll just wait, and please don’t give me that look, sir. That’s an emergency vehicle behind you, so you should just . . . Oh, you’re waving him past you. How nice. Too bad the other lane’s too choked for him to get by, or I’m sure he would have done so without waiting for your engraved-friggin’-invitation. Just PULL OVER and let him pass. PULL OVER into that huge space that could probably hold the Long Island garbage barge and let the ambulance through . . . Never mind, he went around. Sigh, what are you doing with a BMW anyway, man? Idiots like you should drive Hugo’s.
Well, I’m finally across, and now I can walk the 25 minutes to work, because the doctor says that walking relieves stress. It does, you know. I feel a lot better about myself, anyway. Doesn’t stop me from wishing I still worked in Haymarket.