Saul’s tradition in the 80s, going to the new Peppermint Lounge on 45th, turned ritual once he met the waitress with the sparkly cleavage, her oral cavity the most lascivious thing he’d ever made it with, which he did every chance he got on those Friday nights, behind the stage door, in the kitchen, the walk-in freezer, and she was grooving on it too until one day he got stubborn and wanted to sit and conversate instead of flitting around doing the disco thing, so she bashed him in the mouth with her serving tray, and now two decades later he still goes to dental rehab on 47th.
The waitress ran out the back door, galloped two blocks of sidewalk for the audition, the butter on her blouse, the tuna on her skirt, the milkshake in her hair giving her an edge for the monster movie, a willingness to scream, be revolted, and worry about her life and well-being to her fullest until she discovered she was sixty-third in line.
BONNIE ZOBELL has received an NEA, a PEN Syndicated Fiction Award, the Capricorn Novel Award, and was included on Wigleaf’s 2009 Top 50 list for very short fiction. Her work has been included or is forthcoming in The Los Angeles Review, Night Train, Storyglossia, Necessary Fiction, The Greensboro Review, JMWW, and Pank. She received an MFA from Columbia, teaches at San Diego Mesa College, and can be reached at www.bonniezobell.com.