Too hungry, get too hungry and the blood sugar dips so low the brain goes kerfluey. Things get twisted and distorted and shit begins to make sense. Huh? Yes, in a nut-case world, shit only makes sense if the brain is affected. Otherwise it's reality. And reality, for the most part, is disappointing.
Taking old Molly out past the church, which looks fucked up, and over the bridge...yikes... "Don't drive off of the bridge", Nub reminds himself. He keeps repeating, "Don't drive off of the bridge." "Don't drive off of the bridge." "Don't drive off of the bridge." "Don't drive off of the bridge." "Don't drive off of the bridge." Ok-got it. He didn't drive off of the bridge. Ta-da!
With wet armpits to match his beaded brow, Nub knows he needs to eat something. Usually he has old food in the car - somewhere, but not today. The neighbor kid vacuumed out the Molly yesterday, after being paid three bucks. The smelly urchin, Rex Loated, looked like he needed a few bucks. Nub Malloy Dix is an easy touch, so he helped the little mole out. And that's a good thing, all-in-all.
As he finger fished below the passenger seat... Oh but wait, Nub was so momentarily excited only to discover that the cellophane wrap from the Good & Plenty was just that - cellophane. No box! Fuck, he thought. Fuck, that G&P was only half eaten. The kid must have eaten those pinks and whites. Nub wouldn't have cared so much about the whites, but Nub loved the pinks. Fuckin' vermin.
By the time he made it past 7th Street, he was out of sugar fuel. Pulling towards and then hard kissing the curb, he misaligned the front wheels and scraped the white sidewall off of the Molly's right tire. Dazed and dizzy, Nub couldn't have cared any less. Too bad, he will be hot as a poker when he sees the damages tomorrow. But that will be then and it is now, now.
Like a vision, across the street, he sees Yianni's Cafe. Although Nub (who has the small balls to accompany his small phallus - da, Nub??) is deathly afraid of terrorists, his hunger drives him into alien territory. Oddly the people eating there looked normal. And other than his waitress, the service staff looked normal tool. Normal to Nub was white. (Maria, an American girl of Lebanese descent, was as dark as Yianni's could muster on this Saturday afternoon).
Nub devoured the hummus on pita bread while waiting for a crab cake on a bun. He thought the hummus was butter. Still talks about the butter there. By the time he got to his sandwich, the brightness of the restaurant energized him. No wonder.
For sure, Yianni's Cafe was a terrific place. The food was fresh and excellent, the wait service was precise and not intrusive. So inviting it was, that Nub never was scared of the terrorists once he regained his wits.
As is his custom upon egression, Nub will turn and walk back into Yianni's. He will look about the place and then he will bow from the hips while muttering "Thank you" in four languages. As he re-entered to do his little OCD gig he saw this...
Hmmm. Nub's blood sugar was better, but he was still seeing a little off, doubly kinda. Maybe it had something to do with losing his glasses nine months ago? Maybe it had to do with blue ice, the concoction his brother Hung gave him to drink last night? Those Dix brothers were always an adventurous pair. Nonetheless, swinging the door open wide, Nub took two steps in and bowed as if he had just seen the Queen of England. Low talking, he said in moderate succession...
Nobody had a clue what Nub was up to. Patrons looked up from their hummuses (hummi?). Maria blushed, as if Nub's whacko behavior could be her fault. Before much could happen, the 5-5 firebrand spun around and out the door he went. As he drove Molly back over the inlet, Nub thought the sky had turned into a strawberry frappe. Good thing there was a Starbucks on his way home...
Or maybe those clouds were coated with pink candy. Just like the licorice in Good & Plenty. Oops, there's the WaWa... hit the brakes, screech... damn!
E cosi va...