Breakfast in Barcelona excerpt

(To start in the middle:)

5   Playing with the knife-rest

    You know Bob, on second thought, maybe you should just stick to small talk... it works from time to time... true enough, it does lack a certain... a certain punch.
    You could talk to her about the weather...
    She'd nod, and polish off her latte and be gone from you life forever, sure... but she might smile a little.
    Ok, that's no good.
    No, Bob... we both know the answer, or at least that, if there is one, we'll find it here in this drink...
    Ok, I think I have an idea. The service here in Barcelona is snail speedy... gives a man a chance to think... where the hell's my octopus?... It gives a man a chance to sweat too, but I'll get used to that again soon enough. I wasn't in Amsterdam that long.

    Ok, let's think this over now. How is she gonna react? There're several options, I suppose, there's the 'ohh it must've been terrible...' reaction... then there's the patronizing nod to keep me at arm's length, the 'I don't want to get too close to a man who's been sleeping out of doors reaction'... Not altogether not-understandable come to think of it...
    Then there's the possibility that she's had to sleep on a bench before, that she can relate...
Who'm I trying to kid?...
    Ok, here's how to play it. "It really wasn't so bad... I mean, yeah, sure, Dude at the train station kicked me out, and I had to stagger exhaustedly off to the park bench... but as it turned out there were those two other guy's sleeping on the next park bench... I saw them during the night, on the way past them, and they looked like fellow travellers rather than tramps. I know tramps, we got plenty of them in... uhh, Barstow. There's ungroomed, and then there's 'I pissed myself and there's nothing for me to do about it but keep wearing these same clothes' transience. These guys were just guys who'd been on the road for a while. They looked alright.
    "It must've been terrible' I don't know what I would've done if it'd been me..." I could hear her saying. I could see a respect in her eyes for my strength of character. She could respect me for having been through that ordeal, and especially for maintaining my head and my sense of humor in the face of it. 'Wow, that takes a real man...' she would think.
    Now this is important Bob, you have to press on at this point, keep the story moving past your sorrows... press on to the good points, or she'll just think you're some sort of downer... a pain in the ass who's just gonna bring her down. This is a squalid thriller to excite her and get you into her pants, not some sort of slave narrative sob story to gain understanding or sympathy or any of that bullshit.

    "So, yeah. I woke up in the morning a bit stiff, but better. I think I was smiling, I was laughing about just how unpleasant it wasn't. Sleeping on a bench every once in a while isn't so bad, I decided..."
    She'd be nodding patronizingly by then. No, not quite patronizingly, more like humoringly... like 'sure babe, whatever you say... I think you're a little bit off your rocker, but that's alright... you're kind of funny.'
    That's alright, I can work with the humoring nod.
    "So anyway, I was having a cigarette, preparing myself for the new day. Today I was gonna go ahead and stow my backpack in the train station, and then I was gonna set out to find me a room for the night. I had money for fuck's sake, how hard could it be to find a bed?... Right?
    She nods. She's in perfect agreement. There's a look in her eyes, they're clouding over almost, as I stare into them, it's the clouding of admiration. 'This man's got drive... he's no lazy quitter of a shiftless slob. He may be a slob, but he's not a lazy slob... With all that drive... I wonder what he's like in bed?... His body hardened by the elements...'
    "I was smoking that cigarette, reining in my determination, when Dude comes over ..." I'll go on, watching her dreamily watching me.
    "Excuse please. I, and my friend, we are wondering if you are hitchhiker." I'll tell her Dude said.

    " Now, let's see. I looked up at him. Luckily I'd slept on the side of the bench that didn't face the sun in the morning, and we where shielded by overhanging trees of some botanical sort or other... I was never any judge of flora nomenclature... anyway, I could look up at him without being battered by the morning brightness.
    "What?" I asked him.
    "Ohh, sorry. Excuse please. We are goink to Portugal. We wonder if you know, maybe, good place to hitchhike. You are hitchhiker?"
    "Nahh, not really..." I answered. "I've never really had any luck hitching... you might try one of those rideboard places..."  "

    Wait a minute, I already told her I hitched with Michele. Shit. That rideboard bit wasn't bad though... Maybe I should say I found Michele on a rideboard?... Shit, no time to go back and work the details... I'll have to double check that before I go talk to her... In the meantime, let's go with the rideboard thing...

(buy me...)

Breakfast in Barcelona 
author:  alex farr
price: $12.34 + S.&H. 
Add to cart
View cart

Or, if you don't want to kill any trees- there's e-Breakfast in Barcelona

there's No Place Like Home...