Can the pay-no-attention-to-behind-the-scenes gloves keep up with the demand for a slices (worth a coin) of apple pie? These slices were made long before they reached the BOH. They traveled in the halo of nuclear medicine.
I was roused at 5am…the buggers were at it, making a commotion I was not prepared for, at that hour…. slipping new slices into coin slots. Demand was high. On the sidelines, the impatient ones wanted the doors blown off the whole automat. Little did they know, the whole thing was a fad. The whole thing would blow over before tomorrow. Caught up in the fad, breathless mimes bought small cars, each “new car smell” smaller than the last, until they disappeared from plain view.
If only I had access to their dumpster.
I spot my chance. A door the size of a laundry chute’s is open. I squeeze in. The door shuts behind me. Now where the hell am I? Satisfying my hunger will not be as glamorous as I thought it would be.
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• Metaphysical Circuits: http://metaphysicalcircuits.blogspot.com
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