check, please!

MAN: I’ll take a side of hummus to go, please.

HUMMUS MAN [eyeing MAN‘s obesity with disgust]: OK. [Prepares “to-go” order of hummus and pita. Looks away with antagonized sadness from the lettuce-bits stuck in MAN‘s teeth]

[Bob Dylan comes on the radio. A dust-ball rolls down the Avenue outside. Somewhere, a toaster enthusiastically ejects two golden-brown pieces of toast.]

[The toaster “vomits” the toasted bread.]

[The MAN travels back in time, in his mind, which is to say he begins “remembering” a time in the past: a family reunion when his two tiny nieces sat on his lap and played with helium-filled balloons. He felt like a OK human being at that moment. Now, he feels like buying an order of hummus to go is in the same category–on the same level–as being an arms trader, or an arms manufacturer, or Joan Armatrading.]



Some things I haven’t had “time” to read:

[nota bene: I’ve had “time.” I just haven’t “read” them yet. Anyone who doesn’t have young children or more than one job who tells you they don’t have “time” do anything is lying.]