I was cleaning out my email inbox today when I found an old story I had written to some friends. It's a conversation I had with a NYC Street vendor last spring. It made me laugh a little, so I thought I'd share it on here. Moments like this make me miss the dirty apple.
-My Conversation With The Corner Muffin Man-
Hey, you got any blueberry?
How many you want?
(Shows me the muffin, squeezes it, and mumbles something about a woman)
I said, It's soft like a woman's titty.
(Still half asleep)
Just how I like 'um.
(Pauses and stares)
(Continues staring and smiles as if he’s waiting for me to name the one person in the world who doesn't like 'soft titties'...or Bob Marley)
(I laugh, pay the man and get the hell out of there
before he gets a chance to liken any of his other breakfast snacks to a part of the human anatomy)
He didn't lie. That muffin was soft.
Even softer than expected.
I've never felt so perverted eating a blueberry muffin, as I have today. And as I finished that final bite, I couldn't help but wonder what his honey buns felt like.
I guess tomorrows another day.