throwback short-short

Free Melons!

“Becky! Becky?” A girl with large silver sunglasses approaches my table. “Oh, you look just like my friend -- oops!”

It was definitely autumn. Variable leaves of purple persuasions were swirling around my worn blue sneakers at the coffeeshop on Killingsworth. After buying a birthday present at the vintage shop across the street I decided I needed a cup of something or other.

Just a couple hours earlier, I had been sitting in the dark. I called my boss and left a message.

“Hey. . .  just me. Power’s out in the shop and on the whole block, looks like. Don’t know when it’ll come back, guess we’ll have to wait and see. Just wanted to let you know. Bye!”

Without any of the computers working, it looked like I could be sitting in the dark alone for the rest of the afternoon. A definite chill. 

Is electricity warming?

A dark-haired young guy parks his bike next to the cockeyed signboard, porcupine screws sticking every which way. He comes in. 

“Hi! Our power is out,” I say in my most cheerful warning voice.

“Yes, I know, I just want to ask you a few questions.”

“Sure.”

“I am from Brazil and I want to ship some things home to my mother.”

“What kinds of things?”

“Oh, you know. This and that.”

“Right.”

“So, can you tell me how much it will cost?”

“Well, the thing is. . .  it really depends on the size and weight of the package.”

“Yes, yes, I see. But, generally. Can you give me an idea?”

“Mmm. . . normally, I could give you a quote, but because the power is out, I. . .”

“But, in general. . .”

I clear my throat, hoping it will make a point. It doesn't.

“It’s really hard to say.”

The phone rings. Thank God.
My boss.

“Hey, can you do me a favor?” 

“Mmm, sure.”

“Could you take everything out of the fridge and stuff a bunch of paper towels in there?”

“Yeah, okay.”

There’s only a few things in the mini-fridge-- a jar of pickles, horseradish mustard, a tupperware full of wontons, and a can of soda (mine).

Five minutes later, my boss bursts in. 

“They’re giving away free melons at the co-op!” 

“Oh, yeah? Did you get one?”

“No, I don’t eat fruit. I’ve told you that before, I’m sure.”

Sometimes I wonder.

Local goats butting heads about politics at Extracto,
the best coffeeshop in Portland, Oregon, and possibly the entire world