Ham and Cheese

Ha. This is pretty old. It was well liked before everybody's stuff was deleted so I thought I'd put it back up.

     Every night I walked, and I walked the same route. I don't really know why I did, it just seemed natural. I strove to see them. The people I saw. They were always in the same places, doing the same things, and for some with the same people. They were odd, not so much who they were, but the things that they did. In the first alleyway, I saw two young lovers, how young? I have no idea, and I never bothered to ask. I didn't care. They always did what lovers do. Not so odd, but considering that I walked outside, it was very odd. They also chose to perform their amorous rites next to a dumpster, an odd and dirty place. The next turn, a very well-to-do man walked at a brisk pace. He always wore fancy suits, like Armani suits, but I wouldn’t be able to recognize an Armani suit, let's just say he dressed well. But he seemed to have no style sense (except the Armani suits); he wore tacky ties. He also wore a beige trench coat, and he carried an umbrella everyday. He had an armada of umbrellas. All his ties matched his umbrellas. He even wore the coat and the umbrella on the hottest, driest days. Stupid. I was once overcome with the urge to ask him about it. I did, it went like this,
        "Hey, Umbrella!" He turned to me, gave me an odd, odd look.
        "Excuse me?" he asked in a boring, monotone, yet slightly restless voice.
        "What's with the umbrella, the coat, too?" I waited for while a before he answered me.
        "I feel the need to protect my self from the rain."
        "Duh... But it's not raining, it hasn't rained for months on end."
        "I know," he replied, "but I want to be prepared." I was a little baffled by his answers.
        "Then why don't you wear rain boots?"
        "My feet aren't important." This guy was a card.
        "Umbrella, they hold you up! How could they not be important?"
        "What do people see first, when they see me behind my desk? Do they see my feet? No, they see my face, my Armani suit, they never see my feet!" he gruffly replied, obviously put-off by my questions.
        "Your feet hold you up." I walked away. I never talked to him again.
        Now whenever I saw him, he glared, and I, in return, gave him a cheesy grin, one guaranteed to piss him off. Next on my list of people was some old bum. He always sat on the same bus bench; he never got on, nor off a bus. He just sat, and sat, and sat. I wondered what he did all day. Obviously nothing, he was a bum. The local hooligans felt the need to belittle and ridicule him. He even was christened with a name! Hobo Joe. Yippee. He was always staring into the distance, it looked like he was waiting for a bus, but for him, the bus never came. They were my source of entertainment. I saw them everyday, the same time, the same place. Those were the people I saw.
        Monday, they are still there.
        Tuesday, there as well.
        Wednesday, big shocker, there they are.
        Thursday, it's a little different today. It's raining. The lovers can't break their streak, so they're out in the rain, wearing those silly little plastic ponchos. It must be hard, I thought, to do what they're doing completely wrapped in plastic. I rethought my notion, and chuckled, realizing the unintentional pun. I kept walking; the last thing I wanted in my head were the cries coming from those two. Next up! We have Umbrella. And oh! He had a darling little tie! Light green with pink (yes, pink!) polka dots! And he even had an umbrella to match, a lovely hue of green with a pink handle! My umbrella may be broken, but it is not, I repeat, is not tacky. His pants were wet, too. Soaked to the mid-calf, at least. I walked past him, but I couldn't resist the urge,
        "Hey Umbrella! Your pants are wet!" I ran down the street, I didn’t want him to hit me with his umbrella, or anything. I kept walking, looking for Joe. I eventually came across him, sitting with a splendid newspaper hat. And surprisingly enough, that was less tacky (and not to mention less gross) than Umbrella's tie-umbrella ensemble. Joe, though, was soaked to the bone, not just his feet. And even though my umbrella was broken, it kept me dry, which was more than I can say for Joe's newspaper. I was overcome by a wave of pity. I felt the need to make sure that he was at least not hungry. And to my delight, I spotted a small convenience store that was but a block away. I quickened my pace, and came to the door of the store. Of course I closed my umbrella, I don’t want bad luck, now do I? I rummaged through the shelves, picking up a ham and cheese sandwich, those kind that are in the weird triangular packaging, and I grabbed an umbrella, too. It was a gorgeous shade of green, more of a seafoam color. I walked to the counter and laid my items down, waiting for the cashier to ring me up.
        "It's really coming down out there isn't it?" the boy said, valiantly trying to make conversation.
        "Sure." I liked making cashiers have a hard time. Not that I was rude, I just liked to bother them, make them happy that I was gone. It was fun.
        "And your total is.... $32.79."
        "Right," I said, handing him the money, counting out the impossibly annoying amount of change.
        I took my items and left. Once I was outside I opened my umbrella and walked back over to Joe. I sat down next to him meticulously taking the plastic wrapping off the umbrella, then I opened it. I handed it to him, hoping he would like the color.
        "Here," I said, "take it."
        "Why? What kind of trick is this?"
        "No tricks, you just looked dreadfully uncomfortable." I jerked my hand again, gesturing for him to take it.
        "Fine... But if I find one thing wrong with this umbrella! Oh! You'll be hearing from me..." said Joe, in an imperial tone. I chuckled, to myself of course, and then set to trying to open that damned sandwich container.
        "Here, ham and cheese, nothing is wrong with it, I promise." I nudged the sandwich in his direction. He hastily grabbed it, obviously his hunger outweighed his paranoia. "See ya around." I got up and left. That quickly became my new routine. Walk. See the oversexed teens (occasionally hear them too). Make fun of Umbrella. Feed Joe. On holidays, I gave him a little beer, which might have been dumb, but he never had any untoward actions for me. One night, I walked past the lovers, or where the lovers should be, and I saw no one. In the distance, though, I heard an infant's cry. Umbrella was walking quicker today, and his face had a perturbed look. He also had one brown loafer on his right foot, and a black leather dress shoe on the other. Umbrella must have been just positively frantic to have such a blatant disregard for his shoes. Suddenly, I was overcome by the strange need to make sure Joe was still there. As I neared his corner I noticed the unmistakable blink of ambulance lights. I broke into a run. And I finally saw Joe. Though his bench was empty, the heavy-duty plastic body bag was not. There sat (or is it lay?) Joe, his face having a purple tint, the color would make a gorgeous pair shoes, besides the fact that it's the color of a dead man's face. I walked forward on unsteady legs, nearing the EMT.
        "Excuse me, sir?" I nervously asked.
        "Yeah? Make it quick, we gotta get to the morgue," he gruffly answered.
        "Erm... How did he die?" I implored, my hands shaking.
        "He choked on a ham and cheese sandwich."

 

Reviews

[Dan Bradley]

yeah this was really good. the casual narrator, the re-referencing of things, the obvious nicknames. I haven't visited this site regularly in years, but when i was browsing through the friends i still had i recalled your amazing young talent. keep it up. get a hold of me if you want help publishing a story (myspace.com/lucidlives).