Two cigarettes in an ashtray, My love and I in a small cafe. Then a stranger came along, And everything went wrong. Now there's three cigarettes in the ashtray.
Okay, this is it: she gives Tom the signal. This is the big moment and they say practice makes perfect. Tom's the perfect lookout, too, that little airplane tucked away, and that lady talking about her farm is another really good distraction. The lunchboxes are right... over... here.
That's it, that's the one, the New Kids on the Block one. Reaching out, she almost has it in her hand when she hears a grownup's voice. Crap! Busted!
"Of course, one has to make a choice in all things he or she does. But let me give you a small piece of advice, young lady."
The guy's smoking a cigarette and he's dressed like a total dork in that suit -- who dresses like that? no one -- and he looks all greasy and stupid, but she's not afraid. She's not afraid in the least. Defiant arms fold over her chest; her lower lip pouts menacingly.
"I don't take advice from strangers."
"Only lunchboxes, I see." He waves his fingers as if dismissing the entire notion. "Now, it couldn't possibly make the least bit of difference to me if you steal a lunchbox or if you don't. That's not where my interest lies. The advice I have for you is far more critical than that." A line of smoke floats up toward the store's ceiling and as much as she doesn't want to watch it, she can't help it. It's like time's stood still for just a moment.
How did he know she was going to steal one of these? Who is he? It doesn't really matter. "Critical, huh? Spit it out, seeing as how you just blew my opportunity." The neighbor woman finishes paying for her stuff; Tom fidgets by the door and the look he gives her is a pleading one.
The weird old man laughs and leans forward, and he smells like smoke and rose petals and fresh rain and she doesn't know why. "Don't tell anyone, but New Kids on the Block will be so passé in a few short years. The lunchbox you really want to steal is this one." He points to a Super Mario Brothers box; she can't help but snort aloud.
"That's stupid. I don't want that."
"Oh, but you will in about twenty years, Miss Austen. It will be worth a small fortune." Conspiratorially, he leans forward. "Go ahead. Now's your opportunity. Bury it away for a time. You'll thank me later."
"You're weird and dumb. Go away."
He does. Just like that he vanishes; Tom gives her the hurry up! sign. She doesn't want a dumb Super Mario Brothers lunchbox -- she wants New Kids on the Block -- but he said... so what's she supposed to do?
While the shopkeeper's back is turned she puts both in her backpack, grabs Tom by the hand, and runs out of the store giggling. It's a beautiful sunny day, the kind that's just perfect for climbing trees.
Kate
My love and I in a small cafe.
Then a stranger came along,
And everything went wrong.
Now there's three cigarettes in the ashtray.
Okay, this is it: she gives Tom the signal. This is the big moment and they say practice makes perfect. Tom's the perfect lookout, too, that little airplane tucked away, and that lady talking about her farm is another really good distraction. The lunchboxes are right... over... here.
That's it, that's the one, the New Kids on the Block one. Reaching out, she almost has it in her hand when she hears a grownup's voice. Crap! Busted!
"Of course, one has to make a choice in all things he or she does. But let me give you a small piece of advice, young lady."
The guy's smoking a cigarette and he's dressed like a total dork in that suit -- who dresses like that? no one -- and he looks all greasy and stupid, but she's not afraid. She's not afraid in the least. Defiant arms fold over her chest; her lower lip pouts menacingly.
"I don't take advice from strangers."
"Only lunchboxes, I see." He waves his fingers as if dismissing the entire notion. "Now, it couldn't possibly make the least bit of difference to me if you steal a lunchbox or if you don't. That's not where my interest lies. The advice I have for you is far more critical than that." A line of smoke floats up toward the store's ceiling and as much as she doesn't want to watch it, she can't help it. It's like time's stood still for just a moment.
How did he know she was going to steal one of these? Who is he? It doesn't really matter. "Critical, huh? Spit it out, seeing as how you just blew my opportunity." The neighbor woman finishes paying for her stuff; Tom fidgets by the door and the look he gives her is a pleading one.
The weird old man laughs and leans forward, and he smells like smoke and rose petals and fresh rain and she doesn't know why. "Don't tell anyone, but New Kids on the Block will be so passé in a few short years. The lunchbox you really want to steal is this one." He points to a Super Mario Brothers box; she can't help but snort aloud.
"That's stupid. I don't want that."
"Oh, but you will in about twenty years, Miss Austen. It will be worth a small fortune." Conspiratorially, he leans forward. "Go ahead. Now's your opportunity. Bury it away for a time. You'll thank me later."
"You're weird and dumb. Go away."
He does. Just like that he vanishes; Tom gives her the hurry up! sign. She doesn't want a dumb Super Mario Brothers lunchbox -- she wants New Kids on the Block -- but he said... so what's she supposed to do?
While the shopkeeper's back is turned she puts both in her backpack, grabs Tom by the hand, and runs out of the store giggling. It's a beautiful sunny day, the kind that's just perfect for climbing trees.