I am idling my vehicle outside of an in town, coffee shop that I have been frequenting for fifteen years drinking a coffee and three fire engines and an ambulance pull up on the block with lights flashing.
A cook at the restaurant across the street is standing in a doorway of the restaurant in the morning before the restaurant opens and I yell across the street to him amidst the cacophony of traffic inching by parked emergency vehicles and ten firefighters congregating on the sidewalk in front of the coffee shop over what ends up being a supposed gas leak, according to a sign on the coffee shop door to not smoke because of a potential gas leak.
"Don't touch Mike!" I yell out of my open driver side window.
Mike, the cook at the restaurant across the street, smiles and nods his head at the inside joke I yell to him over a time I eat at the restaurant and then poke Mike in his pot belly as a friendly gesture when he says "don't touch Mike!"
"This is more action than we've seen in ten years," I yell at Mike.
Mike nods again.
Another pedestrian jaywalking from the side of the street on which I am parked idling my vehicle drinking a coffee in heat on a cold day outside turns when he hears me yell across the street to Mike, the cook.
"What the fuck did you say to me, mother fucker!?" the pedestrian yells at me with ten firemen surrounding my vehicle on the sidewalk turning around to see who is yelling.
"I'm not talking to you. I'm talking to him," I yell back pointing at Mike, the cook, smoking a cigarette in the doorway of the restaurant across the street and a few paces from the pedestrian now on the sidewalk across the street.
The pedestrian yells another epithet at me that is inaudible to me sitting in my vehicle and looks back at me in my vehicle a couple of times as if he is going to start a fight with me by traversing the street to me and ten firefighters holding axes and crow bars.
Mike shakes his head looking once at the pedestrian traversing the street to near where Mike stands in front of the restaurant vestibule, then enters the restaurant's glass door while the pedestrian walks off down the block ignored by myself as he is about to escalate what I have lived for all of my life and is the reason for my life: to wake up just this morning and be called a "mother fucker" for no reason at all.
A cook at the restaurant across the street is standing in a doorway of the restaurant in the morning before the restaurant opens and I yell across the street to him amidst the cacophony of traffic inching by parked emergency vehicles and ten firefighters congregating on the sidewalk in front of the coffee shop over what ends up being a supposed gas leak, according to a sign on the coffee shop door to not smoke because of a potential gas leak.
"Don't touch Mike!" I yell out of my open driver side window.
Mike, the cook at the restaurant across the street, smiles and nods his head at the inside joke I yell to him over a time I eat at the restaurant and then poke Mike in his pot belly as a friendly gesture when he says "don't touch Mike!"
"This is more action than we've seen in ten years," I yell at Mike.
Mike nods again.
Another pedestrian jaywalking from the side of the street on which I am parked idling my vehicle drinking a coffee in heat on a cold day outside turns when he hears me yell across the street to Mike, the cook.
"What the fuck did you say to me, mother fucker!?" the pedestrian yells at me with ten firemen surrounding my vehicle on the sidewalk turning around to see who is yelling.
"I'm not talking to you. I'm talking to him," I yell back pointing at Mike, the cook, smoking a cigarette in the doorway of the restaurant across the street and a few paces from the pedestrian now on the sidewalk across the street.
The pedestrian yells another epithet at me that is inaudible to me sitting in my vehicle and looks back at me in my vehicle a couple of times as if he is going to start a fight with me by traversing the street to me and ten firefighters holding axes and crow bars.
Mike shakes his head looking once at the pedestrian traversing the street to near where Mike stands in front of the restaurant vestibule, then enters the restaurant's glass door while the pedestrian walks off down the block ignored by myself as he is about to escalate what I have lived for all of my life and is the reason for my life: to wake up just this morning and be called a "mother fucker" for no reason at all.
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