A good breakfast (start the day with)

7 02 2008

Fine dining in the Red Line this week:
Parka boy knows how important it is to start the day with a good breakfast.

He lands hard on the train seat. As he’s landing he drops his breakfast on the empty seat next to him: a ripped open L’il Dibbuk raspbury polyster spongecake oozes from torn cellophane and a crumpled yellow page from the business phonebook floats onto it seconds later.

Then the old teenager thumps a blue gallon down hard on the salt-crusted train floor next to his heavy duty snow boots. This might be a jug of anti-freeze or it might be some sport drink guaranteed to make him sweat attractively blue. Hard to tell with teenagers. They are very open minded about some things.

He’s talking the whole time and since he’s not old and battered enough to be talking to himself it’s a good guess he’s on some kind of dangling telephonic thread.

All plan “b” can see of him is the tip of his nose, darting in and our of the black hood as the train rocks. Sometimes his hand finds breakfast and squeezes it like some tiny friend riding next to him that he can eat as soon as he gets rid of this clown on the phone.

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