Doobage and All the Right Moves

“So whaddya got for us tonight Poppy?” I ask Ernesto, our sous chef. Ernesto unenthusiastically produces a list of the night’s specials from his back pocket. Telling me the specials is just a formality. After five years I can predict the entire lineup. “And, finally,...

Mrs. Creosote

It’s a rainy Saturday night and the Bistro’s jammin’ We don’t have a free table until 9:30. But that doesn’t stop prospective customers angling for a seat. Angelina, out Sicilian spitfire hostess, keeps the yuppies hordes at bay with a firm hand, a lovely smile, and a...

The Body Politic

“So you gonna vote tomorrow?” Saroya asks me. “Yes,” I reply, looking over my copy of the Times. I’m reading about the riots in France. Did they run out of cheese? “Who you gonna vote for?” Saroya says. “It’s a secret ballot dear.” “C’mon,” Saroya says, “Tell me.”...

Mr. Creosote

The door chimes. I look up. In walks the fattest man I’ve ever seen. “Holy shit!” I whisper, “Its Mr. Creosote!” Creosote lumbers down the aisle and plants himself on a dainty chair. I feel bad for that chair. “Oh my God,” Monique whispers back, “He’s huge.” “Better...

Legion

Beth and I are sitting outside waiting for our shift to start. Claude, our local homeless guy, shuffles past us. “Hi Claude,” Beth says cheerily. Claude makes no indication that he hears her. “How ya doing Claude?” I ask. He usually responds to me. Claude ignores me...

I’m Gonna Win Today

I’m waiting in line at the bank to deposit my paycheck. Normally I handle my finances online but, since the Bistro doesn’t offer direct deposit, I have to make this trip at least once a week. As usual there’s only one teller working the floor. The line inches forward...

DUI

The night’s over. I limp out of the Bistro and start walking towards my car. It was a brutal shift. I must’ve served over fifty people. My feet ache and my right knee hurts whenever I put pressure on it. Maybe I need new shoes. Maybe I need a new job. Maybe I’m just...

Been Away

I’ve been gone a few days getting some R&R. I’ll post a new story tomorrow. Many readers have written to inform me that the story Aaron Broussard told Tim Russert on Meet the Press, which was the catalyst for my story “The God Who Drowns,” is false. It certainly...

Dreaming of Igloos

It’s a miserable summer day. The mercury’s hovering around 96 degrees and the humidity’s making it feel like 106. Our customers aren’t gonna cook in this heat so the Bistro’s packed. All the warm bodies, combining with equatorial temps and the kitchen’s blast furnace...

The God Who Drowns

I’m driving into work listening to 1010 WINS. The news coming out of the Gulf Coast is nothing less than horrific. Pulling into the parking lot I listen to a man describe how his boss listened helplessly as his elderly mother, trapped in the rising floodwaters at her...