JOHN SENDS ME ON A MISSION

Big Mac, or Whopper? There's no contest, in his opinion. Now, as for the fries...

"John," I said one afternoon, "I've got a craving for something."

Up came his head, and he eyed me with some measure of worry.

"What're ye sayin'?" he asked, the worry creeping from his eyes to his voice.

I glanced at him and smiled.

"No, not like that," I said, reassuringly. "I just meant that there was something special I wanted, something that I can't make myself, and I'm going to have to go out for a bit, to get it." 

I got up and he put his newspaper down, looking interested.

"What'd ye want?" he asked.

"Some French fries," I replied, getting my sweater from the closet. "I can get them right next door. Do you want anything?"

"Yeah, now that ye mention it," he told me, picking up his paper once more, and shaking it straight. 'Get me a Whopper, could ye?"

"How about a Big Mac?" I asked him. "McDonald's is right next door, but Burger King is half a mile away."

He looked disappointed, and he said, a bit sadly, "Never mind."

I knew that look; he was a tiny bit miffed, but he wouldn't quarrel about it. He would, instead, go all quiet for a while.

I sighed softly.

"No, baby," I said, managing to keep the quiet resignation from my voice. "If that's what you want, I'll go  and get it for you. Do you want anything else, while I'm there?"

"Can't think of a thing," he assured me, his voice and his face brightening considerably.

"All right, then. I'll be back in less than half an hour."

I went downstairs and onto the boulevard, thinking of how easy it was, sometimes, to keep him happy. I smiled to myself, imagining how glad he would look when I got back.

I entertained myself with that happy image as I walked the several blocks to the Burger King.

Upon reaching my destination, I ordered his sandwich, paid the guy, then started home. 

Before I got there, I stopped at McDonald's for my fries. I thought he might want some of those, too, so I got two orders.

"Give me two chocolate shakes, too, while you're at it," I said to the smiling girl who took the order.

Now, I had my hands full.

Back up the stairs I went, pausing to wish Mrs. Tatum, my downstairs neighbor, a lovely afternoon.

She eyed the packages I carried.

"Burger King AND McDonald's? She commented.

"Yes. I have company, and he prefers Burger King."

Oh, aye, dearie, I seen 'im when 'e come in this mornin'," she replied.

She smiled sympathetically at me.

"That one seems t' keep you hoppin', whenever he comes 'round," she added.

"I don't mind," I said, starting up the stairs. "He's worth it."

"There's one woman's opinion," Mrs. Tatum told the world in general as she closed her door.

Back in my apartment, I found John sleeping on the couch, his paper over his face. Snores emanated from beneath it.

Had he been in a cartoon, the paper would have been fluttering up with his exhalations, drifting down on his inhalations. I grinned at the image, then set my burden down and lifted the paper from his face.

I bent to kiss his cheek, and he opened his eyes, smiling sleepily.

"Yer back," he said, and yawned.

"Yes; I told you I'd be quick."

I handed him the Burger King bag.

"There you are," I told him, "Your Whopper."

He opened it and took a blissful bite.

"I brought you some fries, too," I said, opening the McDonald's bag, "And a shake; chocolate, your favorite."

"Too bad the fries aren't from Burger King," he remarked. 

He glanced up, saw my face, and smiled, a little sadly. "Never mind," he said, looking only the tiniest bit disappointed, "These are fine."

I nodded and smiled at him. 

This time, he smiled back.

Reviews

[barleygirl]

This is a beautifully rendered interaction between two people very comfy together. Your dialogue is well-crafted with just the right level of lilt. I was starting to crave a whopper myself & those are definitely the best fries. The only thing that could be done to improve might be to pump up the experience of unwrapping & eating, more sensory -- smells, steam rising, etc. The end seems a bit hurried compared to the way you unfold the earlier parts in a leisurely & vivid way (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[Vivian Gospel]

You' a chilled out bloke. Your writing's smooth like a chillum on a foggy day.

[Neville]

Hey, you got away, didn't you babe...... (from The Chelsea Hotel by Mr. L.N. Cohen)

If you ever, and I do mean ever get your memoirs published outside of the cafe, I want a signed copy, okay..... Neville

[angel]

Okay...I never thought of doing that; I have written two books with John as the central character, but that's all. Didn't think anyone would want to read about me.

[Neville]

Quit knocking yaself missy & think about it....N

[angel]

o hay, eye wilt

[Neville]

You need to go and get that checked... it sounds like Bells Palsy ........write on... N

[angel]

Oh know! Eye half gut palsy! Ete emma spastic!

[Neville]

I suspect/hope you are teasing me..

[angel]

Yeah, not really a spastic. Just have a wonky sense of humidor.

[Neville]

s'pose you get that from John... he smoked Gauloise if I am not mistaken, but he kept them in a packet in his jacket.. not in a humidor per favore... x

[angel]

Right! I couldn't remember the name, just that they were brown, French, & came in a blue box.

[Neville]

That's the 'ones, although on that tragic 8th December day 1980, he was smoking another French brand called Gitains which is also in a blue packet.. when I used to smoke, a long time ago now, I used to alternate between them and Marlboro......

[angel]

I also smoked Marlboros, but quit 15 years ago, when they got to $5 a pack.

[Neville]

almost as good a reason as any......

[angel]

It was MY reason, and I'm stickin' to it, fellah...I am one of those fortunate few who could just STOP cold turkey.

[Neville]

it took me ages, but so glad I did...

[angel]

Me, too; you're stayin' alive, mate, and that's all that counts.

[Neville]

darn true, it aint the tobacco that counts, is it........

[angel]

Glad yer here, friend. I love hearing from ye.
No one else seems to "get" me as you do. I guess it's a regional thing. Hate to say it, but ye remind me of mt da, dead these past three years. I know yer not old, but you remind me of him...and of John.

[Neville]

that, coming from you angel is a real compliment.. thank you so much....

[angel]

Yer well comb. Love and peace, angel

[Neville]

cheers............. :)