On Sunday Milke Thompson walked over to the Bart station, entered the train and sat down. He read a newspaper in a top hat. People looked at him funny because of the top hat. And the cane, and the purple chiffon gown he wore on Sundays. Milke liked to put yellow crepe paper in a duffel bag and walk about the station outside with the yellow bits of paper poking out. He said he liked canaries. The blue lockers were on the left of the ticket machines and he would stand there with the paper until the train rumbled overhead. Calmly, he would purchase a muffin from the vendor on the sidewalk, and slowly unwrap the chocolate Costco muffin from its saran wrap coating. After the train departed, he would move toward the escalator leaning heavily on his cane, tapping the ground twice with the metal end before shifting his left foot in front of the right. Milke Thompson is a millionaire. And he spends his Sundays thus, in an endless repetition of crepe paper and chocolate muffins.
3 comments:
what a crazy son of a bitch. Have you lost all sense of reality, who do you think really does this stuff. Unless of course you are talking about Milke Thompson, that famous gymnast, I have heard he loves cosco muffins. Although I thought I distinctly remember that he had a penchant for puffins. Maybe I didn't hear right.
Personally I think muffins are one of possibly the two most overrated types of food ever stumbled upon. The other is broccoli. Including broccoli with cheese sauce so please don't ask me if that is an exception. It is not. Also, yes, I am sure there is someone out there concocting something as heinous as a broccoli muffin. If you meet that person, tell them to hang out at Bart all day Sunday because I usually don't ride Bart on Sundays.
I prepare his monologues for when he speaks at shining, homeless, fun fact dictatorial parties.
He's the best friend I've never met.
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