Yulan’s “Lasagna Girl” as it turns out is more aware of the undercurrent of the fragile state the internet had become over the
past two decades of neglect. Ricotta has to still be purchased from the store, the distribution line always sending a rotten product
and so many chain restaurants still sold the rancid thing thinking that it naturally smells like Fruit Loops served with buttermilk.
But this little word of beers Corona not Covid never had a graffiti line and moving spray paint cans around seemed to solve the
community service issue and the assigned police lookouts for the underground after that asterisk looking letter seemed to mark
first vowels, then words, then eyes of the cartoons in social realism wall litter, then vowels and then the trash can was removed
forever and trash went into some people’s pockets and for others onto the ground.
It was on this rare occasion of the missing trash can the only difference being the strange neon palm tree Corona neon light
that has nearly instantly appeared ’in a bar nearby. Jennifer hesitated about what to do with her newfound trash understanding.
Her typical route argued she buy coffee at the designated area, drink it, dispose of the empty paper cup and catch the bus. The
first instinct is to buy a plastic reusable cup, but they wouldn’t have those unless a thermos price was listed and it wasn’t. The
Lasagna may now be on ’beer forever’ assigning her into the terrorist land of imitation simulation with the historical trashcan
prostitute to mark time on the lamppost of the evening to see if the homeless man who was the evening walker gathered the cup
to steal a soft drink at the site that was serve yourself near the sidewalk curb that was seemingly at one point accidentally
chiseled, but the trashcan disappearance seemed to take the damage to the curb away as well. Yet they still never came to paint
the fire-lane. To throw it away in the bar seemed the best option. Going into the bar she noticed they did not have a trashcan
near the door and immediately regretted not investigating the bar prior to the neon sign. No matter, she had been labeled a
whore before and she no more preferred key lime pie, and this definitely was not a door stopper. Julia Roberts must surely wear
pink eyeshadow and Mexican strawberry tres leches are served with pink champagne. Movie imitations really are the best ones
when you know which creep the real life focuses on in reality and this has no New Mexico flair, tar speaks fluent Puerto Rican.
Must be Lehman brothers. She smiled knowing the creeps are not protected by jail just quite yet… she knew from her pretend
boyfriend of the future they were already in jail in his past. Her automatically programmed reality was from her point of view a
Mandela. A result of a backdoor placed here by one was unsure of whom, if it was this one though she didn’t need a hacker, she
knows the cast away sticks of the broken neck guitar where strings were purchased and then they were not should surely already
have a new chord by now. This was more her comfort zone. The annoyance of being required to know computers and obtain a
piece of paper wherein a field they already designed the exit gate for women right into the loving embrace of a human trafficker
seemed pointless.
Why not order a beer? Surprised to find from the look of the man with definitive angular facial features and a bulbous cranium
exclaimed the look of an Africa African bar tender. She sat on the stool that did indeed move back and forth like that of a piano
though never to adjust the height. The minute he spoke, she fell into the old routine, but never about the accent because there
was no ornamentation tray present. She smiled and lowered her eyes slightly adjusted her voice into a slight Midwestern tone, “I
have never been in here before… I have been tempted and I finally decided what the heck, what corner is this anyway? Steel and
COVID
ommerce?”
The minute he spoke aloud, his accent definitive and a voice that echoed an assumption of South Africa more than likely, his
African origin would naturally beg an inquisitive mind. “You are today, my first customer. How can I delight you?” His smile
showing all his bright teeth, a trained facial expression, his shirt a basic red polo with an embroidered logo featuring a Palm tree
and coconuts with ’Dap’s Tavern’ in small print. He wore black slacks with the straight leg Dockers look and a braided leather
belt that looked late 80s. Hard to find one new in 2005. Jennifer noticed the bar seemed free from sticky residue as he set his
hands on the top of it in front of his customer.
“Oh you are a refreshing scene, I find Corona to be most delightful to quench my thirst.” Jennifer already knew this is stage
and the most she could do is watch the old fire sprinkler ceiling that was no longer allowed in code restriction, but legally was
allowed due to the buildings age, the bar itself remodeled with a polyurethane coat that most have the new materials of
micro-polymer something or another applied in the formula which is why it was not tacky in texture, it was more than likely post
2000 technology, but with the ways the trucks moved these days it was hard to tell.
“Excellent choice, a crisp Corona to bite into an unusual hot day like today.” He turned and pulled a frozen mug from the
top-slide-open-easy-bevair and had an attached chain to his belt loop that allowed him to remove the top of the beer turn pouring
it into the glass throwing away the bottle without scraping the label.
“Do you mind tossing this in your trashcan?” Sitting an empty disposable coffee cup on the bar she waited patiently as he
picked it up and atop the beer broke it there do go. “Thanks. This place is is really quite I guess I best the rush, they say this
neighbourhood is a great investment site. Has this place been here long?”
“We have been open for many years, other businesses come and go, but only we remain. We have very loyal customers.
They appreciate our quick and clean service.” He watched her for a moment and smirked when she at last took a sip of her beer.
He turned away to start folding paper napkins, placing them in a triangle stack and sorting the little stacks into little odd
triangle-shaped boxes. Jennifer watched the bar carefully and other than the little stacks he was making she understood that
graffiti was the pivot to the ash-tray that city ordinance removed years ago nothing moved.
She finished her beer and said, “I better get going if I’m going to catch my bus. Your right, this bar is very clean, how much?”
“A mere five dollars including tax. Yes our bar is very convenient to the bus stop.” Jennifer left ten dollars on the bar got up
and and walked towards the door waving and smiling as she opened the door. She cut down the shimmy-alley to take a look at
the dock. She did her best to memorize the back end, noting they had the new fire line hose that was tied into the wall briefly
wondering if they had adequate pressure to the line. She saw a pallet leaning against the wall seemingly a board was missing not
that odd but she didn’t notice the board missing at first glance. That pallet could be twenty years old. Her normally neutral
expression swayed to look slightly annoyed. She walked five blocks out of her way and missed her bus to catch a different one
that would take her to the main station. She in the end took the train and walked twenty blocks to arrive at her sublet efficiency
before the sun went down.