Sunday, December 22, 2013

Good Morning Justin...

Letter to my Son
Sunday, 22 December

Gypsy serves breakfast

“Cade, you haven’t a romantic bone in your body.”
Cade paused to look up from his hash browns, bloody with catsup.
“Where’d I do you wrong, Gypsy?”
“You ain’t never’ve been close enough to do something wrong with me, cowboy.”
He smiled and shoveled in another bite.
“You think refilling my coffee might get you a bit too close?”
“That’s business.  We all have to take risks for a buck.”
“You got that right.  One buck – there’s your tip.”
“That a fact?  I’m thinking more along the lines two quarters suits you.”
“Like hell.”
“Damn straight.  You lay down a buck and you’ll get me thinking you came into money.  What happened?  Social Security give you a raise?”
“How bout that coffee, Honey?”
She grabbed up his wadded napkin and bounced it off his forehead, dropping right into the egg yolk.
“Hey yourself.”

The bell jangled above the entrance.

“Gypsy, your walkway’s mighty slick outside.”
“I’ll have Cade grab a counter shaker and salt it before he leaves.”
“She’s sweet talking you, Cade.”
“Hey Bill.  Still living the dream?”
“He can’t afford it.  So Bill, ‘Senior Special’, decaf, cream, no sugar… right?”
“I come in here too often.”
“It’s the women.  Food stinks but Gypsy loves to give you suggestive looks.”
“I suggest you finish up, pay your tab and make yourself absent, Cade.”
“I can’t do that.  Bill here’s deathly afraid of being alone with you.”
“He ought to be.  I’ve a thing for a man in a toupee.”
“OK, that’s about enough.  Come over here and give this a feel.  It’s all real, Gypsy.”
“And it’s all yours, Honey.”
“Sorry, Bill.  I still think I can peak under it.”
“Make me a liar.  Come over here and put your hands through it.”
“Watch out, Gypsy.  He’s starting to stir.  You still messing with Viagra, Bill?”
“I get it by the case from Canada.  Might come in handy one day.”
“The internet’s a wonderful thing.”
“OK, Gypsy.  How would you know?”

Bill suddenly looked bewildered.  “What we talking about here, drugs or sex?”

“Why Bill, both of course.  Right, Cade?”
“You asking me?  I get my internet in the library.  Not much you can do there but pay your bills on line.”
“Says you.”  She winked.
“I hear you can look at whatever you want in a New York library.”
“That a fact?  Where’d you hear that, Bill?”
“Facebook,” Cade said.
“No, you got to have friends to be on Facebook.  Right, Bill?”
“Gypsy, I think my cakes are burning.”
“His is the short stack,” Cade smiled.
“Their pretty stacked compared to yours, Cade.”  She smiled back.
“You’d have to cook mine to know.”  Cade said.
“You’re strictly wheat toast and eggs.”  She replied.

They starred at each other.
Bill leaned away from the counter to take them both in.  
“Get a room,” he said.

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