Isn’t it strange?
by Maclean Patrick
Isn’t it strange?
I look out through the glass panel, there’s an old man fussing with his umbrella. The man with the funny haircut crosses the street, avoiding the puddle but getting splash on at the curb. A couple duck under a doorway to take refuge, her mascara muddling her face as she turns to seek sympathy from her boyfriend; who seems preoccupied with his leather shoes being wet.
Isn’t it strange?
An old lady on a first floor window pulling in her laundry only to have her flower printed blouse fall down, blanketing the young man preoccupied with his wet leather shoes. The funny haircut man avoids another splash only to jump into the old man with his half opened umbrella. A funny scene that makes the mascara muddled young girl laugh. And I watch all this from inside a café, waiting for my coffee and a piece of apple pie.
“You want ice-cream on the pie?” I am asked.
“No thanks,” I reply.
Isn’t it strange?
The wet splashed on man apologizes to the old man with the half opened umbrella and in turn, both men get splashed on at the curb. The young mascara muddled face lady reaches over to help wet leather shoe boyfriend take the flower printed blouse off his head, only to have him trip forward and fall into a puddle. Now leather shoes are wet along with his tailored suit.
Now that is strange.
I sit here watching it all, drinking my coffee and wondering should I add ice-cream onto my apple pie.
“Do you have chocolate?” I asked.
“Vanilla would taste nicer,” he nods while telling me.
“It won’t taste that strange with chocolate, right?”
“Strange? No, but I’ve never seen anyone eat it with chocolate before.”
I smile, “There’s always a first time.”
“Now, isn’t that strange?”
“What?” I asked.
The waiter stares out through the glass panel.
“That old man with the broken umbrella is the father of that woman with the messed up makeup. And that young man, the one who knocked the old man is the brother of the woman’s boyfriend.”
I look out through the glass panel, “What about the old woman on the first floor?”
“That’s my mother.”
“Now, isn’t that strange.”
I took vanilla with the apple pie and the waiter was right, it did go well with the pie.
THE END
