In the other: The Lebanese version of Silent Bob, physically, Jay, verbally. (backwards hat, squawking on his cell phone), and his quiet, chizel-faced cashier counterpart.
Jay and Silent Bob pushed the beardeds out of the way -(aggressively)"Hey, can I like, get a little room in here?"
(corner C clueless yuppie...who's attention is drawn like it was to the almost-shoot out, she ran to the door, while others ducked)
Sans-crooked legs: "You better watch who you're talking to, you....apple..butt, you apple butt! Your butt looks just like an apple!"
Jay and Silent Bob: (snatches the cane violently from crooked-legs, setting him off balance) "Hey, let me borrow that!" (he takes the cane and pokes down a package of the cheapest toilet paper, high on the top shelf in the corner, for clueless yuppie)
Crooked-legs: Blinks
***
I'm teepee-shaped, standing on the top rung of a sidewalk bench, which is slippery with drops of sunshower. My hands are on the cool, moldy stone wall of Prospect Park. Eye level is the deep brown of a wet dirt path, just the width of a single stride. I sniff it, just at my nostrils is the freedom of the cultivated outdoors.
"You can do it!" I turn just as I am stepping down, embarassed to perhaps be committing a crime, and see the iconical old couple, woman with a cane in one hand and the other arm linked around her besweatered husband.
"No I can't!"
"Yes you can, come on. Its a far walk otherwise." They stop to wait, and watch.
"You're not going to watch, are you?"
"Yes! And make sure you're ok." They are all smiles.
So I do it, pump my fist, "Bye, thank you!" and am off, into the forest.
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