Holger wiped the sweat off his brow. Even though autumn was already half-way over, the heat was still there. That didn't matter though, the bakery had fires going two hours before sunrise until he closed at dinnertime. He took a loaf out of the oven. A savory steam escaped through the cracks of the hard brown crust. But at that moment, the bell rang at the front of the store. A man stood there with two crumpled five dollar bills in his hand.
"Hello? The sign on the gas station said to come over here for service."
Holger's frame almost filled the doorway as he walked through. "Yes? I own the gas station next door."
Looking up, the man rather timidly said, "Could I get some gas? - and then I'll get on my way."
Sighing, Holger grabbed his keys and locked the bakery, walked across the parking lot, unlocked the gas station door, and unlocked the pump with the switch next to the cash register. The couple of months were filled with this tedious process because his two eldest sons, who used to help run the bakery and gas station, left to live with their mother. After the man left, Holger saw the Help Wanted sign on the floor - the suction cups were not air-tight. He never got used to the cheap plastics made by those Commies from China.
Despite the slight annoyance of the poor plastics, Holger's entire life was spent dealing with Reds. Grabbing some duct tape Made in America, Holger taped the sign to the window, going through the same tedious process, made his way back to the bakery. There were a few war veterans outside waiting for some food. Holger let them in and gave them the loaf with the hard brown crust, which retained most of its heat since it left the oven. He also gave them the bread from the day old racks. Even though he paid his taxes, he knew that next none of it went to supporting the veterans eating the bread in his store.
The already hazed sunset completely disappeared as black storm clouds rolled into the city. Seeing their refridgerator boxes already half soaked, Holger invited them to the back of the bakery where he used to live with his family. With three extra beds, the homeless graciously slipped under the covers. Like a heavy oak, Holger fell onto his bed. He was asleep before his head even touched the pillow.
1 comment:
Grumble.
I cannot imagine a time where I've been hungrier in my entire life. I think this is the third... no, fourth meal in a row that I have gone without.
Grumble.
"Yes, yes, I heard you the last five-hundred times," I replied.
Grumble.
"Please, go bother someone else! I've had enough of you!"
Grumble?
"Beat it!"
And just like that, it stopped. It was as if my stomach had given up on the thought of food, as if it knew that its pleas were useless. Now I walked in complete lonely silence down the street. It wasn't long before I started to miss the heated conversation I had with my belly. It even got to the point where I begged it to grumble just so I could have someone to talk to--to share my misery with.
A totally unexpected response occurred: Meow.
I gasped, afraid I had finally descended into the realm of insanity, but was relieved to see that behind me stood a small kitten. It was now that my stomach decided to re-enter the conversation, but this time, I only heard its low voice shout "Get him!" At that moment, I pounced at the cat, completely controlled by my starvation, yet the cat had sensed that something was strange and quickly evaded my grasp.
"Get back here!" I shouted, sprinting down the street after it. As I ran, I bent down and grabbed a handful of rocks, throwing one after the other at the bite-sized kitten. One actually managed to hit its target on the bounce, but the kitten survived the attack unscathed and scampered off into the graveyard. I stopped and gasped for air, disappointed that along with breakfast, an opportunity for lunch had been missed as well.
However, not long after I had caught my breath, I noticed a crowd of men outside the bakery across the street. They weren't very spectacular men, to be honest. Many had tattoos littered across their bodies and none of them looked very intelligent (trust me, when you walk the streets as much as I do, its an easy trait to spot in people).
Out of curiosity, I made my way over to the crowd to see what was going on. It was rather funny, because no one really seemed to notice me since I blended in so well. Before I could ask someone why there was a gathering, a man with a tense expression on his face (most likely the baker) opened the door to the bakery and beckoned the group in. Given this opportunity, I would have swiped some bread, had the baker not given me a loaf free of charge.
The group followed the baker into a different room, so I quickly took my leave, unnoticed and bread in hand. I was so excited that I almost dropped the loaf in the middle of the street! (Not that it would have mattered, I would have eaten it anyway!) I sunk my teeth into the hard crust and almost cried out for joy as the warm bread descended my throat to my deprived stomach, who no longer moaned continuously.
With high spirits, I walked back towards the park. The bus was just arriving at the bus stop, and only one man got off. He wore a cowboy hat with blue overalls and held a guitar in his right hand, displaying an extremely quirky smile across his face.
Its that kind of personality that gets you screwed in this city, I thought to myself. I wouldn't be surprised if I saw him out here on the streets sometime soon.
Without taking time for a second thought, I chomped into my bread and aimlessly continued walking down the streets of Washington Heights.
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