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Thread: Soup and Sandwich

  1. #1

    Soup and Sandwich

    A Christmas tale from Starrwriter, the grinch who stole Dickens' idea and made it better:

    Soup and Sandwich


    Located in the old section of town two blocks from Main Street, the Friendly Diner had a cozy atmosphere and an orange neon light hanging in the front window. The owner, an old man with a full head of snow-white hair and a bushy white mustache, wore an apron when he worked as cook and waiter for the few customers who came in at night. He left the dirty dishes in the sink for the dish washer to take care of in the morning. Most his business was breakfast and lunch, but he often stayed open until late at night because there was no one waiting for him at home. His wife had died several years earlier, his children and grandchildren lived in Chicago, and he didn't like spending time alone.

    The diner was empty of customers when the boy entered and shook the snow from his coat before taking a seat at the counter. He looked nine or ten years old and his hair was cut in a flat-top. He ate supper at the diner a couple nights every week and he always ordered the same meal: a bowl of Heinz bean soup and a cheeseburger.

    "Where's your mom tonight?" the old man asked him, slapping the burger patty onto the grill.

    "In the bar across the street."

    "She doesn't cook much, does she?"

    "Not when she's drinking."

    The owner shook his head. "First the man takes a drink, then the drink takes a drink, then the drink takes the man. Only it's a woman in your case."

    "Don't you drink?" the boy asked.

    "I used to, but it doesn't agree with me anymore. Also costs too much. One drink is too many and a hundred is not enough."

    "You talk funny."

    The old man opened a can of bean soup and poured it into a pan. "I didn't invent those words. They're quotes from experts."

    The boy nervously rearranged the salt and pepper shakers in front of him. The old man used a match to ignite the gas under the pan of bean soup, then he lit a cigarette with the same match and took a sip from his coffee cup. A moment later he flipped the burger patty and turned to face the boy.

    "Where's your old man tonight?"

    "He don't live with us."

    "Why not?"

    "They got divorced."

    "I see. How come you decided to live with your mom?"

    "My dad has a girlfriend. She don't like kids."

    "You didn't want to live with your dad?"

    "I didn't say that."

    "But it's what you meant."

    "I'm not a mamma's boy."

    "Take it easy, son."

    "I ain't your son, either."

    "I know." The old man took a photo from his wallet to show the boy. "This is my son."

    "He looks old."

    "He's forty-five."

    "That's pretty old."

    The owner laughed. "Not when you're my age."

    "How old are you?"

    "A hundred and twelve."

    "I don't believe you."

    "I feel that old sometimes."

    He flipped the burger again and placed a slice of cheese on top. Crushing his cigarette out on the floor, he poured the soup into a bowl and pushed it across the counter.

    "I hope I die before I'm thirty," the boy said.

    "What a damn fool thing to say."

    "I don't care."

    "You should care. Your life doesn't really start until you're thirty."

    The boy slurped a spoonful of soup.

    "What do you want on your cheeseburger?"

    "Nothing."

    The old man served the sandwich on a small plate. "How come you always order a cheeseburger and Heinz bean soup?"

    "Heinz is better than Campbell's. The grocery store doesn't have Heinz."

    "What about the cheeseburger?"

    "I like cheeseburgers," he said, taking a bite.

    "You never talk much when you come here."

    "I'm not supposed to talk with my mouth full of food."

    "It doesn't bother me," the old man said, wiping the counter with a towel. "Tell me, how old are you?"

    "Eleven."

    "You're kind of small for eleven."

    "I'll be eleven in July."

    "So you're ten."

    "What's the difference?"

    "Seven months, if I can still add."

    The boy ignored him and worked on his sandwich.

    "You like school?"

    "Nobody likes school."

    "I did. It got me away from the farm."

    "You grew up on a farm?"

    "It was mostly hard work and not much fun. You're lucky you live in town."

    "I don't feel lucky."

    "Yeah, I can tell. You have a dog or a cat at home?"


    "They don't allow pets where we live."

    "Too bad. A boy needs a pet."

    "Why?"

    "Helps to have something to take care of and keep you company."

    "I like it better alone."

    The old man leaned across the counter. "Bull****."

    "I do."

    "You're just a kid. You don't have to be so brave all the time."

    The bite of cheeseburger seemed to stick in the boy's throat. He couldn't swallow and tears began to form in his eyes.

    The owner felt embarrassed. "Forget what I said. I've got a big mouth."

    The boy turned away and swallowed, but he couldn't eat anything else. He stood up and took some money out of his pocket.

    "Aren't you going to finish your meal?"

    "I'm not hungry anymore. How much do I owe you?"

    "It's on the house."

    "Why?"

    "I'm feeling generous tonight. How about a paper cup of hot
    chocolate to drink on the way home? It'll keep you warm."

    "No thanks."

    The boy headed for the door.

    "Hold on, I'll close up and walk with you for a few blocks. I'm not going to get any more customers tonight anyway."

    "I don't need company."

    "Well, I do. I'm an old man and it's slippery as hell out there. I might fall and break my neck."

    He took off his apron, slipped into his coat and turned off the overhead lights. After he locked the door, they started down the street in a snow flurry with slush gathered ankle deep on the sidewalk.

    "You left the neon light on," the boy said.

    "I always do. It helps the street look cheerful, especially on a night like this."

    They turned a corner and walked to the end of the block.

    "This is where I live," the boy said.

    The old man examined the apartment building. "Doesn't look bad."

    "It's a dump."

    "What floor is your apartment?"

    "Second floor."

    "Well, at least you get a view from up there."

    "I can see the lake from the roof."

    "Is that your only entertainment?"

    "I watch TV a lot."

    "Don't you have any friends?"

    "Not really."

    "I have a feeling you're not ever coming back to the restaurant. Am I wrong?"

    "I don't know."

    "I wish you would."

    "Why?"

    "I need the business. I'll make sure to charge you next time."

    "You have plenty of customers."

    "They aren't good conservationalists like you are."

    "You're crazy."

    "Listen, I'm sorry about what I said earlier. I know you're mad at me, but I didn't mean to upset you."

    "I'm not mad."

    "Then I'll see you at the restaurant?"

    "I guess."

    "Hey, Merry Christmas."

    "Thanks."

    He watched the boy climb the steps and enter the building. Pulling up his coat collar against the wind and snow, he began back-tracking to his car parked behind the restaurant. About half way there he slipped on an icy patch of sidewalk and hollered "****!"as his shoulder banged a street light pole. He regained his balance and cursed again under his breath. In his hurry to leave the restaurant he had forgotten to put on his rubber boots, which stood in one corner beside the coat rack.
    Last edited by starrwriter; 12-09-2005 at 02:58 PM.

  2. #2
    Vincit Qui Se Vincit Virgil's Avatar
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    Intersting. But I've never heard of a ten year old going to a diner on his own. I found the conversation between the two engaging, but the conclusion seemed empty. Good characters, but the story needs to go somewhere, unless it's not finished.
    LET THERE BE LIGHT

    "Love follows knowledge." – St. Catherine of Siena

    My literature blog: http://ashesfromburntroses.blogspot.com/

  3. #3
    Quote Originally Posted by Virgil
    Intersting. But I've never heard of a ten year old going to a diner on his own. I found the conversation between the two engaging, but the conclusion seemed empty. Good characters, but the story needs to go somewhere, unless it's not finished.
    Thanks for your comments.

    From time to time I ate alone at a diner when I was that age. It was fun and made me feel grown up.

    The story is a "slice of life" tale and a character sketch. It doesn't rely on plot or "go somewhere" any more than day-to-day life.

    "Hell, there are no rules here - we're trying to accomplish something." -- Thomas A. Edison
    Last edited by starrwriter; 12-09-2005 at 03:47 PM.

  4. #4
    Just another nerd RobinHood3000's Avatar
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    I think you mean "conversationalist," but otherwise, it seems all right. There are a couple of points where it seems like the kid's dialogue is a bit out of character--he seems like he would use "ain't" all the time, rather than "I'm not" sometimes and "ain't" others. Like Virgil said, the ending's a little anticlimactic, but refreshing compared to cliched "heartwarmers."

    The characters don't seem to have anything particularly interesting about them, either. Are you sure you're not planning to do more with either one? You might find yourself hard-pressed to find readers for your piece if it's only as interesting as day-to-day life -- after all, many people enjoy reading simply to ESCAPE from their daily grind.
    Last edited by RobinHood3000; 12-09-2005 at 04:04 PM.
    Por una cabeza
    Si ella me olvida
    Qué importa perderme
    Mil veces la vida
    Para qué vivir

  5. #5
    Quote Originally Posted by RobinHood3000
    Are you sure you're not planning to do more with either one [character]?
    I might. It depends on the Muse, like all of my fiction.

  6. #6
    I like it very much. And I disagree with the criticisms so far. It depends on what you want to accomplish doesn't it? If it is just a slice of life it is just a slice of life and what you glean from it is the sure knowledge that there is nothing new under the sun and that somewhere someone is living a slice very much like someone else, the only difference being how the person feels and what happens next.
    If you want something exciting and daring you read a different kind of story.
    I was that child. The people that raised me has a restaurant as well as a cocktail lounge and they were too busy for me in their life. A lot of the times I had to walk from school way across town to the Italian district and come quietly into a small diner where people were such creatures of habit I could have told anyone who would be sitting where on what afternoon even if I could only describe the customers by what they looked like.
    I would shyly take a seat in a certain booth and very politely ask for a coke and a hamburger, the same always. and I never used slang . I kept to myself and either looked out the window on to the quiet serene street overhung by enormous ancient trees or i looked down.
    And then my aunt Jean would come out from where she had been cooking and nod at me and I would carefully wipe my little hands and face and slide out of the booth and join her.We walked out of the diner in silence. I always felt sad and alone and didn't know how to communicate any of that.
    I think reading slices of life affirms that you are part of the human family and that your thoughts and feelings are right and normal and someone somewhere is going thru the same sort of th ings and that makes an invisible bond of understanding somehow.
    I liked it.

  7. #7
    Vincit Qui Se Vincit Virgil's Avatar
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    Hmmm. Sounds like you have a story there yourself, Rachel.
    LET THERE BE LIGHT

    "Love follows knowledge." – St. Catherine of Siena

    My literature blog: http://ashesfromburntroses.blogspot.com/

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