(dedicated to Andy Newman)
I ordered fried ancient grains with a carton of milk thistle fed pork barbecue. the delivery guy was at my door within ten minutes. he was tall and muscular, with a soul patch and green sorcery in his eyes. I thanked him for the food, then handed him twelve Kennedy half dollars for a tip.
"what's this, man?" he demanded.
"your tip" I said simply.
"I gotta carry this bunch of metal around wid me all day?" he asked testily.
"well, yes, I suppose you do" I said. "they're getting rarer and rarer -- could be worth a deal of money someday." I added helpfully.
"I ain't workin' for someday -- I work for today; and today you have weighed me down with ten pounds of metal."
and that's why, officer, I am hiding under my bed right now after dialing 911.
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