Immortality
Working the night shift at Borders Books doesn’t sound exciting, but sometimes it is, especially in the café.
There was one night when this guy who looked like he was from the Whole Earth Festival came into the café. (Whole Earth is best described through it’s participants) Let’s just say I didn’t know anyone still wore bear pelts.
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This is Burning Man, but the look is |
Anyhoo, I was stocking the condiment bar when our be-dreadlocked fellow entered. He was mumbling to himself constantly. As I refilled the lids and straws, he proceeded to remove half of the sugar packets from their compartment. He took the bottom half and poured the sugar into an empty 32 oz paper coke cup. He then put all of the sugar packets he had removed back. During this bizarre event, I increasingly felt as though he was mumbling at me. Eventually, I was certain he had mumbled something at me. I indicated that I hadn’t heard and he asked, just a little louder, “Stuart, are you immortal?”
My name tag showed my name so that was disconcerting for a moment; I must admit though, I had never been asked something that strange by someone that strange who was standing that awkwardly close to me.
“I don’t know,” I quipped stepping aside and putting the space bubble back between us, “but I never really wanted to test that.”
The mumbling fellow nodded his scruffy self and mumbled “Yes, yes, of course, that makes sense” sort of noises. He said “good bye, Stuart the immortal” and left with his cup of sugar.
submitted by: Stuart from California
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