Vet and his girlfriend

His main squeeze for the nonce.

I have only to step outside and take a few steps, and it's on.

I decided today to make the jiggly cake again and see if I can get it right this time by being more careful. I'll need a dozen eggs, a cup of cream cheese and milk so off to the corner store I go.

Boom, right there within three steps, "Hey, Brother, howzit going?"

"Fine. You?" I always wonder what they're going to hit me up for. But apparently my appearance is so shocking that they no longer bother. They must be thinking I'm worse off than they are. Or I'm misreading the whole thing. Still, these aggressively friendly street connections cause me question what is going on.

"I'm fine, Brother. Isn't America great? Isn't America wonderful? Isn't America the best country in the whole fucking world?"

"Yes. Why yes it is. I think."

He broke away from girlfriend and took up a pace to match walking right next to me. I'm wondering what the team action will be. What do these two want? The man is small, very short. Boyish in appearance. A tight muscular black man, well groomed, clean clothes, spotless blue shoes. Under his opened jacket his bright red shirt is emblazoned with a large black batman symbol. He looks like a muscular boy. His girlfriend is native American. Her face is round and pockmarked and weather-worn. She is heavier than he is a bit shorter.

"Yes. I think so. It is the best country I know."

"We just ran up this guy back there yelling a the top of his voce, to anybody, yelling in the street." He imitates the man. "Fuck America. Fuck America. America is criminal. America is fucked. Everything in America is fucked. He was crazy."

"Wow. What was his problem?"

"See, I'm a vet. Okay? I'm a decorated vet. I bin honorably discharged. Aright? I love this country. I love the United States."

"What was that guy's problem?"

"He was already mad. I told him I 'm a vet. A decorated honorably discharged veteran. And I love America."

"But what was he mad at?"

"I told him, nah, I'm just joking. I just wanted to see his reaction. I was just joking."

The woman closed the gap between them, now we are a tight row of three approaching my crossing. She said, "He is mentally perturbed. He didn't say anything specific. He just cursed America. He has a mental problem. He's drunk. Maybe high."

"See, I'm black, and she's Indian. See, we settled this country but her people settled it first. See, her people were first and our people settled America later. This land is really hers. My people are from Africa."

"Wow."

"Yeah. We just got here, see my people came from Africa, but her people were here first. They were just here. God, I love America."

We're at my corner and they're blocking my left turn into the intersection. Right then another street person saw us as a group and approached from another group around the corner.  The black man asked me, "You going this way?"

I said, "I'm going that way."

The new person said, "Your'e in his way, Bro, get the fuck out of his way." I pass between the first man and the woman and waiting for the light to change I hear behind me the new man say to the first man, "Why you not carrying anything? She's got the backpack and bags and you're carrying nothing."

I look back. The first man is free-handed and free-moving while his girlfriend is burdened with a huge backpack nearly large as herself. I didn't notice that. Well spotted, New Guy.  Plus a couple of plastic bags dangling from her hands. It really did look ridiculous. The light changed and I walked into the intersection, straining to hear his explanation why he isn't sharing her burden, perhaps they're not that close, this decorated veteran honorably discharged.

I get to the little store. It's been awhile. I've been having groceries delivered the last few months. But I'm thinking that Easter will goof things up and that's why I was out now. The young man who is inheriting the places considers me a friend ever since I dropped in and handed him a Philadelphia cheesesteak sandwich made just a few doors away. Nobody does that, so it sticks out. He asks, "What? You making a cake, or what?"

How did he guess?

"Yeah. Good guess."  I told him about my intended cake. He goes, "Wow. That sounds great. Lemon pie is my favorite."

"Are you open tomorrow?"

"Yeah."

"Oh man. You're working on Easter? What a bummer."

"Yeah."

Then on the way back I stopped in the bottle shop to use their ATM. The guy inside there struck it up and turns out they're open on Easter too. What's with all these people working on Easter?

So now my cake has a purpose. I'm going to blow both of their minds. I'll get on it, soon as I wake up.