RUBBING ELBOWS WITH THE POOR AND THE UGLY
(WE'RE A CRASS BUNCH,
Story 1: My batteries are going dead. I
visited Park Side today. Park Side is a
nice homestyle restaurant just outside
the city. When I entered the joint the
place was empty apart from the
employees. I sat at the counter and
ordered the daily special. I felt a cold
wind on my shoulder. Someone new
was coming in. I turned my head 'cause
I was interested in who it was. It was a
policeman in full uniform.
"Morning, officer," the waitress said
with a smile.
The lawman's voice was scratchy. "I'm
off duty."
I liked his reply. It sounded as though
he hated his job. Now there were seven
or eight other chairs to sit in, but he
chose to seat himself right beside me. I
scratched my head, then got up the
nerve to ask him if there was some par-
ticular reason why he chose to sit
beside me.
"No reason. Would you like me to
move?" he asked.
"No," I said. I felt bad 'cause it
seemed as though if I asked him to
move, he would have.
Algeria Wants to Open
Petroleum Industry
PARIS (Reuters) Prime Minister
Ahmed Ouyahia of Algeria said Sunday
his government had begun talks with
investors, including foreigners, on de-
veloping the petrochemical industry.
The industry is now a state monopoly.
In a speech to the Algerian Parliament,
Mr. Ouyahia said there was a three-year
timetable for involving outside in-
vestors in the industry, but he gave no
details on the talks.
PARIS A French magazine says
that France systematically eavesdrops
on phone conversations in the United
States and other countries through a
worldwide network of electronic facil-
ities designed to capture satellite trans-
mission.
Information gleaned by these listen-
ing stations is routinely distributed to
more than 50 recipients, including both
government agencies and French
companies
My food smelled good being cooked
in that crazy kitchen. Mmm. The smell
of good fish and chips-delicious. Now
the waitress was taking the off-duty
cop's order.
"The daily special, please."
"He's having the same as me," was
what I was thinking to myself.
"One more daily special," the waitress
screamed to the cook. I bet her voice
drives the cook bananas.
The cop, I mean off-duty officer,
asked what I was having. At first I was
gonna be mean and say, "None of your
business what I'm having." But I wasn't
mean. I was polite and I said, "I'm hav-
ing the daily special, same as you."
When I told him I was having the same
as him he signalled for the waitress.
"Yes, what can I get for you?" the
waitress asked the off-duty officer.
"I'd like to change my order, please."
"What to?" she asked him.
He skimmed through a menu and
said, "Hotcakes and some tofu turkey
links, please."
"OK." The waitress was off to tell
the cook to change the order. I'm sure
this cook is gonna love changing the
order, especially after he dipped the
cod into the batter and was just about
John D. Rocketeer 19
to fry it
up. Mr.
Off-
Duty
was
staring
at me. I
didn't
SHE
DON'T
FLAT
turn away; I just pretended that he
wasn't there.
Sometimes when you're not in the
mood to play games you're forced to.
This was a game of intimidation. Now
the waitress was bringing my food. God
bless the cook. The fish and the fries
are golden.
"Vinegar and salt, please." I didn't
mean to sound cocky but I guess I did.
"The salt's in front of you and in just
a sec I'll be back with the vinegar."
Shake shake shake shake. "Now the
salt's all over the place!"
My mouth was watering; I couldn't
I wait for the vinegar. Mr. Off-Duty
wished he was able to get this excited
over food. The vinegar showed up and
I poured it over the top religiously. I
bit into the fish. It was hot; I was blow-
ing air from my lungs to try and cool it
as I chewed.
"Hey there." Mr. Off-Duty was call-
ing for my attention. I turned my head
to see what Mr. Off-Duty wanted. He
was handing me a small packet of tar-
tar sauce.
"I don't need it." I was talking with
my mouth full. I handed it back to him.
"Just trying to be helpful," he said. I
swallowed my first bite and washed it
down with iced tea-Lipton raspberry
flavor. Umm umm umm. When my food
is really good sometimes I make 'um'
sounds over and over as I chew. The off-
duty cop was annoyed. He told me to
hold it down.
"No problem, officer." I picked up my
plate and moved clear across the restau
KNOW
IM
HE
DUSENT
No
DEE
BROKE
Levers
THAT I
ONLY LIKE
HIM FOR
His
MONEY
US HUMANS.)
rant to a booth so I could enjoy my food
in peace. I was sitting there eating,
chewing, sniffing, drinking, thinking.
Then a tall, I'm talking really talt Indian
came into the restaurant. He looked
authentic, like a real Indian. His skin was
dark cherry colored. His hair was long
and black with streaks of grey in it. This
was my first time seeing a real Indian.
He sat at the counter just beside Mr.
Off-Duty. Off-Duty tried to act as if he
was not alarmed. I loved it, watching him
all uncomfortable. The Indian didn't even
get a chance to order before the cop
asked him for identification. The Indian
must have known the waitress 'cause he
said, "Hello, Josie," as he pulled out his
wallet to show Mr. Off-Duty his ID. The
waitress smiled and brought the Indian a
large Coke.
"You Tony?" the off-duty cop asked.
The Indian nodded his head yes. The cop
looked at his ID and then looked at the
Indian's face. I wonder if all cops look
the same to Indians. The cop checked the
Indian out pretty thoroughly. When he
was finished he gave him back his ID. By
then Off-Duty's food was up. He and the
Indian sat down beside each other. They
both began to eat.
I think the world is a strange place.
That was one of my oddest dining expe
riences ever and I hate writing about
stuff that's really none of your business.
But it's like the old man told me: you're
only as good as the company you keep.
ESPAGNE 1933
Story 2: I sat on the plane like a per-
fect gentleman drawing. I mostly started
drawing cats.
A story about a robot and a cat called
Robot and Kittie. While I was drawing
my pen slipped and I got ink on the
man's pants beside me. He was asleep so
he didn't notice. The stewardess brought
me my coffee and I spit it out. Most of it
landed on the woman's hair in front of
me. I apologized immediately as I should
have. The plane took a dip.
"What was that?"
"Some bumps," the stewardess said. I
felt safe.
My new drink would take some time to
arrive due to the turbulence. I was
patient and waited.
The robot is suffering from anxiety.
Story 3: "Everything is now clear to
me." This whole time that I've been here
has been nothing but sheer spectacle.
Not one single solitary moment have I
really been truly alone. You can walk
into a store and suddenly you're a movie
star. The night people live in different
worlds. They write their names on walls
with spray paint even though they know
they're being watched. They don't care.
Last week I got caught up talking to this
old guy. About seventy or eighty. He
came into the hardware store where I
work. He was a funny old guy. He said
his name was FDR.
"Well, Mr. FDR," I said, "What
can I help you find?"
The old guy looked
up at me. His eyes
were squinted. His
THE
ARMY
RECROOTING
OFFICER
607
HiS
LEGS
head wob-
bled
around.
His shoul-
ders were
way up protect-
ing his ears. He
I was about 5 feet tall
at the most.
"FDR's gonna need some
paint," the old guy said.
"What kinda paint you
need, Mr. FDR?" I was
playing along with
him. He didn't
BROKE
catch on though 'cause he was in a
world of his own. FDR looked around
the hardware store until he found the
spray paint section.
"Give me a whole lot of black. I'm
gonna need fifteen or twenty cans."
Something inside me wanted to stop
him from knowing exactly what it was he
needed, so I, being the employee,
inquired what it was he would be using
the paint for. "Wood, metal, plastic, or...?"
FDR gave me a mean look and did not
answer. I could tell he did not like me pre-
tending to be helpful. So I left FDR alone
to gather up his paint cans by himself. I
strolled over to the key section where
Patsy was cutting some keys. After she
was done with the keys and ringing up
her customer she asked, "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," I said. "Just some old
grump that wants to buy 15 cans of
black spray paint. Says his name's FDR."
Patsy scoped the surveillance screen. She
could see the old man in the paint aisle
trying to hold all 15 cans with his frail
body. An expression of pity came over
Patsy's face. She slapped me over the
head. "Get over there and help that man."
I moved fast and picked up four of the
cans, which he had dropped. "Sorry,
FDR," I said. "I didn't know if you were
settled on a brand. I didn't know if you
needed more help."
FDR didn't speak. He just walked
towards the register. When he got to the
register I set the four cans down. Patsy
loved him; I could tell by the way her
face lit up when he set all those cans on
the counter.
-Mark Gonzales
1948: Flying Disks
ROME Seven flying disks
were reported seen yesterday
[March 28] speeding across
north Italy's skies from north-
east to southwest, the agency
Ansa reported today from Por-
retta Terme. Ansa quoted "eye-
witnesses' in the mountain vil-
lage as saying the objects
traveled at high speed at an alti-
tude of about 13,000 feet and
made "deep sounds." It was
the second report of flying disks
in Italy in the past week.
64 THRASHER
65