Remembrance of things Pabst

So after I spent most of the morning at the surgeon strategizing how I can get my operation, the wife and I took a walk along Court St to go back to the store. Something we never get a chance to do during the day. It is good to take a look at the windows of all the other boutiques to see what they are featuring and how they are displaying things. You know to see what they are pimping.

As we were walking the wife decides we have to stop off at the Chocolate Room for some hot chocolate and some chocolate to bring home for a snack. Now I am not a big chocolate fan so it was all her choice. She gets about twelve pieces of chocolate and a fancy smasncy hot chocolate. Sixteen dollars. That’s right sports fans, sixteen dollars. After we left I told her that was the difference between us. Sixteen dollars for twelve pieces of chocolate and a hot chocolate vs. a large black coffee and two donuts from the metal cart with the Palestinian terrorist in it on Atlantic Avenue for about $2.50. But I love her anyway!

So we get back to the store and it is a crisis as usual. I have to get some money to a vendor and the computer is down at Chase and I can’t do it till tomorrow which just doesn’t work. So I have to take a cab all the way back to Montague St. to make cash deposit in their bank so they have use of the funds immediately. I had to take a cab because the bank closed early.

So I make it in the nick of time and walk outside. I decide to walk again because I need to work my leg and it is only about a mile and a half. But I am starving and I have to get a bite. Now normally I would get a piece of pizza at one of the shops but the one I used to go to started to annoy me a lot. They are always too busy and the guys working there are too busy fucking around to serve the line properly. When the Italian guys owned it they pushed everybody to pay attention to the customers and get the slices out right away. Now there are some absentee owners and he hired a bunch of Mexican dudes who have a real “Manama” attitude. So I don’t want to go there.

As I am walking, I see it. Mickey D’s. A McDonald’s. I don’t think I have had a McDonald’s burger in about twenty years. I used to love them back in the day when I was a kid. When I worked in Flushing Queens back in the seventies there was a Mickey D’s across the street and I would get the same lunch every day. Six cheeseburgers, large fries, a milkshake and an apple pie. Health food you know? I would eat that every day and read the Sporting News box scores at lunch. I was just a punk kid with an iron constitution ya know what I mean.

So I suddenly got a craving for a burger. I mean why not. But I have to be a little responsible. So I only get a paper sack filled with four cheeseburgers. Now I can’t eat them on the move because I would make a big mess. And I don’t want the wife to see me eating them because she would yell at me. So I decide to take the bus and enjoy it as it inched along Court St. I mean the bus takes about twenty minutes longer than walking it. I get on and sit down with my sack of burgers, pull one out and start munching away minding my own business, happily spilling ketchup on myself and chomping away. I look across the aisle and what do I see? My arch nemesis, the hippie/liberal/yuppie bitch with the PBS recycled tote and the Hemp coat. She must have just been shopping at the health food store and had a canvas sack full of tofu and bean sprouts and some shit like that. She looks at me happily enjoying my processed cheese and faux meat burger and sniffed like I was a piece of crap she got on her shoe. I had to laugh. I AM AMERICA BABY! Not you, you tight assed twat.

So I happily grunted and slobbered down my burgers while she gave me the stink eye. When I got my stop, I had finished my culinary trip down memory lane. She kept staring at me as I walked out the door. As I started to step out, I leaned back in and said:
“Oh, and I vote Republican too. All the time.”

Hopefully she had a stroke.