Lunch Time

I sat on my usual bench at lunch time reading The Long, Dark Tea-Time of the Soul when I head a voice coming from behind asking, "What book you readin'?"

I looked up and turned around. It was some guy, maybe eighteen, maybe younger. "What?" I asked.

"What's the book?" he asked, walking toward.

"It's a Douglas Adams book," I said because I figured that if he knew who Douglas Adams was he'd understand the limited choices and then pleasantly surprised that it wasn't a Hitchhiker book.

"Who wrote it?" he asked, almost on top of me.

"Douglas Adams wrote it."

"What's the title?" He leaned over my shoulder as I stuck my thumb in the book and turned it so he could see the cover. There was another guy off to my right coming closer.

"The--," I said.

"The. Long. Dark. Tea..." he read off the cover. "What's it about?"

"It's about this detective and Thor and lots of craziness," I said.

"Any good?" he asked.

"It's--," I said.

"Do you have a dollar?" asked his friend, who had stopped a few steps away from the bench.

"Nope," I said, "I just have me and my book here." I sort of waved the book toward him.

"'Cause I really need a dollar," said the friend.

"Sorry, it's just--," I said.

"Are you gay?" asked the first guy.

I turned to really look at him. He looked Hispanic, short hair (probably a buzz at one time), a pooched out stomach, and one front tooth that was at least a quarter of an inch shorter than the other. And I was wondered, was he propositioning me?

"Not," I said, smiling at him, "to the best of my knowledge."

"So," he crinkled his forehead, "you like girls?"

"Yeah," I said.

"Good," he said, "you keep that up. But work on you voice."

I gave him my best what-the-fuck-are-you-talking-about look as he started to walk away.

"If you don't make it more manly," he said, from farther away, "people might think you're queer."

"Oooooo-kaaaaay," I said as I rolled my eyes and turned away to start reading my book again.

"Look into that," he called back.