three fifteen

by bofa xesjum

bob smith woke up. the sun was shining outside the window. it looked like it was going to be a nice day, unless it rained. bob got up and did nothing all morning. then he decided to call his friend bud harris and ask bud if he wanted to go to lunch with him. bob’s understanding was that bud had just gotten out of prison and might appreciate a gesture of friendliness. bud readily accepted bob’s offer of lunch. they agreed to meet at joe’s, a small downtown restaurant specializing in american food, at quarter past two, when the lunch hour crowd had mostly dispersed back to their jobs. bob got to joe’s early. as he had hoped, it was nearly empty of customers. bob did not go to the counter to order anything but sat down at a table. after ten minutes all the other customers had left but bud harris had still not shown up. there was one employee behind the counter , a fellow who looked like henry kissinger. bob did not recognize that he looked like henry kissinger because he had never heard of henry kissinger or seen a picture of him. are you going to order anything? henry kissinger asked bob. i am waiting for my friend, bob replied. and you are going to order something when your friend gets here? that was the plan. we close at three fifteen. the kitchen closes at three. by the way, did anyone ever tell you you look like dick cheney? who is dick cheney? he was just some guy. he used to be a real smart guy. are you sure you don’t want to order? the kitchen closes at three fifteen. all right, bob said, i will order. give me a turkey grinder. large or small? um - large. what do you want on it? everything. everything? including hot sauce? our hot sauce is pretty hot. everything. hot sauce, yeah. you don’t look like a hot sauce guy. just saying. i never heard of dick cheney liking hot sauce, especially hot sauce like ours. give me the hot sauce. you want chips? sure. what kind? regular. regular, not spicy? regular. see, i knew you weren’t a hot sauce guy. you want something to drink? fanta. grape fanta. turkey grinder with everything, regular chips, grape fanta. is that correct? yes. i like your style. i like that shirt , too. thank you. did your wife or girl friend buy it for you? i don’t have a wife or girl friend. neither do i. a good female is hard to find these days. you got that right, henry kissinger agreed. about that turkey grinder, bob said. the kitchen closes at three fifteen. coming right up. a few minutes went by, then a few more. eventually kenry kissinger brought bob the turkey grinder. henry kissinger had not been kidding about the hot sauce. it was the hottest hot sauce bob had ever tasted. bob had to drink two ice cold grape fantas and three tall glasses of water before he could breathe normally.