The Malt Maker

a car trip, and a bit of thirst make life worth living

A traffic stop

a malt shop

my thirst and hunger wanted

together they'd be satisfied

the daggoned place looked haunted

 

The parking lot was empty

and they had a hokey sign

somewhere beyond those rusty doors

a 'malted" would be mine

 

A crow sat there and mocked me

my ice cream urge was strong

unlike the Raven's "nevermore"

he said "you won't be long"

 

I ignored this shiny birdie

with the beady eyes of black

I grabbed the rail on the deco door

there'd be no turning back

 

A tall dark figure behind the counter

picked up a silver cup

he twirled the thingy fast and hard

without ever looking up

 

"I would like to have a malted" I said

but he'd already read my mind

he scooped out chocolate ice cream

the best that he could find

 

His hair was in a pony tail

rather cool for such an era

I asked him what his name was

and he answered "Johnny Serra"

 

He added vanilla syrup

but held off on the malt

a tad of milk to blend it in

and a  pinch of briney salt

 

The Hamilton Beech did the blending

then he stopped quickly one two three

he grabbed the malted powder tin

as he was gazing right at me

 

He held it up and kissed the can

"to make the flavor better"

then he turned to a bulletin board

and pointed to a letter

 

"These are gold leaf monograms

I'll toss one in for free

now how do you like them apples

my little Penelope?"

 

He dropped the tin right on the floor

as my scared legs ran like hell

how did he know what my name was?

how could he even tell?

 

Then I'd remembered the malted

and why I had gone inside

I called myself a "malt -o addict"

why should I run and hide?

 

I went back into the counter

and touched the marble top

he removed the malted powder lid

and asked me when to stop

 

"A tablespoon will do just fine

and that's alright with me

but tell me why you knew somehow

my name's Penelope?"

 

He pointed out the window

toward my panel truck

"It's on your tag like

the other customer

he'd just run out of luck"

 

I said I'd had the jitters

and my head was in a state

my journey was a long one

and I'd been up much too late

 

He slid the malt toward me

and set the container down

I sipped and wallowed

in the heavenly mix

I hoped that I might drown

 

I felt like I was about to pop

and I dared to ask for more

"That's two dollars that you owe me

another will make it four"

 

When I checked my purse

I had bad news

I didn't have any money

he smiled and stroked his pony tail

and said "That's really funny"

 

I offered to wash his dishes

but he had another plan

"I'd like you to deliver something

to a friend

a very lonely man"

 

"He's down the road about a mile

just leave this by the tree

it's really very easy to spot

when you get there

you will see"

 

He promised me another malt

upon my quick return

he placed the powder into the bag

it made my stomach churn

 

I followed his directions fine

but suddenly I was wary

the only tree around the place

was in a cemetery

 

I rushed right back to cuss him out

but the malt shop was not there

A newsboy asked if I was lost

and he gave me quite a scare

 

"That thing's torn down thank God"

 he said "the owner was a terror"

I asked him what his name had been

and he answered "Johnny Serra"

 

I headed right back to the cemetery

with the malt tin in my arms

Johnny's headstone lay beneath that tree

the man had many charms

 

C September 1 2004  

J. Marks

Author's Note

Kind of long, but I tend to carry on

Reviews

[M.E.Lyle]

I love this. It's a story within a poem. I'm sure they have a name for it. They have names for everything.
I love chocolate malts too. My wife prefers milk shakes.
Your rhyme scheme is wonderful.
I just noticed the post date on this thing. It's been up a long time. I can't believe nobody has discovered this yet.

[Edwina]

Thank you very much. I could visualize the whole thing as I wrote it. If I ever get the ambition, I'll read it on youtube. :)