Dear diary,
I enter the store where they sell giant pretzels dipped in mustard. “Hello, sir!” sez the salesperson. “Would you like to order a big, soft pretzel sprinkled with hail-sized salt granules and served with a porcelain trough of mustard for dipping?”
“No, thanks,” I say. “I’m just here to see if anyone wants to go drinking and fishing. How many of you work here?”
“There are sixteen of us,” replies the salesperson; “eight chefs work in the pretzel-twisting lab that you can see behind the glass there, and there are eight of us who work out here on the sales floor.”
“May I ask a simple question about the duty of the people in the lab?” I say.
“Sure, no inquiry is off-limits.”
“OK, then, is it the job of the lab-chefs to bake the dough; then twist it into the shape of a pretzel, and use a superfine horsehair brush to coat the surface of the finished product with golden-brown butter-paint, so that those coarse large-grained salt granules stick to the pretzel when they are sprinkled on?”
“Yes, that is correct,” sez the salesperson, “except they twist the pretzel first, and then they bake it. Once the dough is baked, it’s too tough to twist. You must twist it beforehand. Also they make the mustard from scratch — you forgot to mention that. Are you interested in these details because you’re trying to steal our recipes? Perhaps you’re thinking of starting up a giant pretzel shop yourself?”
“No,” I say. “Nothing I make ever ends up soft. The only reason I asked is that I grew curious after you pointed out that there’s a one-way glass here. It looks like the chefs are having a joyous time: they seem to be singing as they labor. But all I really wanted to know is the total number of souls who are at work here, because I’m interested in taking along anyone who’s willing to join me on a boat trip. I’m planning on going drinking and fishing.”
“You want us all to follow you this instant?” sez the salesperson. “Should we close up shop immediately?”
“Only if you want to,” I say. “And whether or not your temporary shutdown proves permanent shall be entirely up to the staff. — Why don’t you go around and query everyone: Tell them Bryan Ray is here.”
The man’s eyes light up: “Good idea!”
So this salesperson hastens to the lab and confronts each chef individually, and they all respectively smile and shout something unintelligible (they’re too far away for me to clearly hear their responses). They follow the salesperson out onto the sales floor in a single-file line, and this train of humans now proceeds to approach, one by one, all the rest of the employees. Ultimately the whole group expresses interest in accompanying me on my field trip. Therefore I lead the way to the pond about two blocks away from the mall — it’s a short distance, able to be covered easily on foot — and we all climb into my pontoon barge and push off.
Then we drink and we fish.
§
After spending many hours out on the pond water, reclining in the overcast halflight, we walk back to the Mega Mall and re-enter the Giant Pretzel Shop. The employees all return to their separate workstations, while I myself wave goodbye:
“That was enjoyable; see you all later!” I shout.
The chefs in the lab do not answer because they cannot hear me (tho they each end up sending me a personal email later that same evening, profusely thanking me for leading today’s expedition), but the sales force team members shout positive comments in reply while light-heartedly saluting me.
§
Now I walk down the hallway until I spot another shop that I want to visit. This place sells stylish clothing. “Hi, are you looking for a leather jacket or pre-torn blue jeans?” the saleswoman sez.
“Maybe,” I say; “right now I’m just browsing.”
“OK, well, take your time. My name’s Alina, by the way. Let me know if you want to try anything on.”
“Will do,” I say.
Then, after Alina walks away, I shout: “Alina! Alina!”
She returns and sez: “Yes, sir? How can I help you?”
“My name is Bryan,” I say. “I was just wondering how many other workers are laboring here right now. Can you disclose such sensitive info on such short notice?”
“Oh, sure,” sez Alina. “There’s only me and Alyona. She and I own this place, and we have no other employees.”
“Hmm, I see,” I tap my chin with my finger because I’m very seriously contemplating making a purchase. Then I say: “How much for this leather jacket and these ripped jeans here? And could you also call your co-owner Alyona over? I’d like to ask you both a question at the same time.”
“Alyona is with another customer at the moment,” sez Alina, “but I’ll summon her as soon as she is free. And, as for the jeans and jacket — would you like to try them on?”
“No, I’m just wondering how much they cost; I don’t see any price tags. And please tell Alyona to abandon the customer that she is currently dealing with and instead to join us on this side of the store, straightaway. For I’m dying to talk to both of you together.”
Alina cocks her head, apparently wondering by what authority I am able to make such demands. Then she sez: “The jacket-jean combo is thirty thousand dollars.” Then she snaps her fingers twice and yells “Alyona! Come hither!”
Her customer is in the middle of asking a question when Alyona turns and leaves without explanation: she hastens over and stands beside Alina.
“Alright, first things first,” I say, taking my coin purse out and shaking it upside down until a sizable pyramid of caesar coins has accumulated on the floor. “That’s for the both of you. Split it equally. It’s enough to cover the cost of your entire inventory, but I don’t want that — I already cleaned out all the wristwatches from the Time Store and used them to prettify the Mega Mall’s water fountain — no, for this episode, I’m only interested in acquiring this cool leather jacket. Also these pre-torn jeans that look so trendy: I’ll take these, too. I understand my total comes to thirty grand, in U.S. dollars. I’ve given you trillions of times that amount in gold caesars here — consider the extra coins as a gratuity. Now, if you wouldn’t mind bagging up those two items of clothing for me, it would please me intensely. Also, I was wondering: Are you businesswomen interested in changing that sign at the entrance of your shop — the one that reads ‘OPEN’? Because I was thinking that we might use a black permanent marker (you know: the kind that exudes an enticingly toxic aroma) to scribble out that message and write ‘GONE FISHING’ instead. Then we could get another permanent marker — this time, one that has thick red dripping ink — to add the phrase ‘AND DRINKING’ afterwards. So the finished sign that your future potential customers would be greeted by, when they visit your clothing store, would read as follows:
“Sorry for the inconvenience, but our two owners, Alina and Alyona, are currently accompanying Bryan Ray, the Abomination of Desolation, on a noontime escapade. We shall re-open tonight, around nine o’clock p.m., for that is Master Bryan’s bedtime.”
Alyona looks at Alina with a perplexed expression, wondering if this is some sort of elaborate joke; but when she sees that her business partner’s face is serene and hopeful instead of vindictive and malicious, she turns to me and sez:
“Are you asking us if we’d like to go drinking and fishing with you?”
“Yes, that’s correct,” I say. “And I’m also proposing that I give you all the funds that I was saving to put my children through college in exchange for that leather jacket and blue jeans. This is my offer. Do you need a moment to think it over?”
“Of course not,” sez Alyona; “I can’t even believe Alina called me over to attend this business meeting — we could NEVER take money that you were planning to use for your children’s education. If we did that, then how could we sleep at night!? No: keep your cash — you can have the outfit for free. However, yes: we’d love to go drinking and fishing with you. I’ll make the proposed revisions to our shop sign, without delay.” And Alyona fetches two permanent markers from the mini-fridge that is on the counter next to the cash register.
“When she comes back,” I say to Alina, “will you explain to your business partner that my remark about the proffered fortune being plundered from my children’s college fund was intended only as a colorful exaggeration? For I don’t even have any offspring: at least none that are legitimate. Moreover, I myself have no need for money; because everyone always allows me to run up an endless tab, which no one expects me to pay. So please keep the coins: they’re yours. Sorry about the confusion. — Now, if you don’t mind me asking: Why do you store your markers in the refrigerator?”
“I don’t know,” sez Alina. “Why don’t you ask Alyona; she’s the one responsible for the setup over there.”
Alyona now returns: “All done! The sign looks great.”
“Excuse me, ma’am,” I address Alyona: “Why do you refrigerate your writing utensils?”
“Oh, that’s because the red marker’s ink is actual christ-blood, so, if you don’t store it at a temp lower than negative eighteen degrees, it develops various plagues and starts to smell funny,” Alyona explains. “And it’s just more convenient to keep all the other markers in there too — that way, I have them in the same place.”
“Ah, I see,” I nod. Then, after staring at the carpet for a few moments, I say: “Well, should we go?”
The women each take one of my arms as we walk out of the beaded curtain at the store’s entryway. After crossing several streets, we arrive at the pond and climb aboard my pontoon barge. The next few hours pass blissfully, as we drink and fish. Then, just before 9 p.m., I wave goodbye to my new friends and go to sleep on a haybale near the cowshed.
Alina and Alyona return to their shop and see the pyramid of glittering coins on the floor, right where we left it. Alina explains very thoroughly to her business partner all the details that, earlier, I asked her to relay for me. This successfully convinces Alyona that she can accept my generosity with an untroubled heart.
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