...with love all things are possible

Believe ...

Believe ...

Wednesday, 24 August 2011


(A conversation)

“Are you hungry?”

“Yeah. Ya think?”

“Would you like some dinner?”

“Sure – good idea.”

“What would you like?”

“Um, I dunno. Anything.”

“OK. How about a hamburger?”

“Hamburger? Um, nah. Not a hamburger.”

“Not a hamburger?”

“Nah. Gives me gas.”


“Yeah, really.”

“OK. What about liver and onions?”

“Gross! Are you nuts? That’s disgusting.”

“OK. Fine. Steak then?”

“Nah. I had steak fer lunch today.”

“OK. OK. You chose then.”

“I dunno. Anything, really.”

“Anything. So pick it.”

“I dunno. Gimme some ideas.”

“OK, let me see. Fish. What about fish?”

“Fish. Fish. What kinda fish?”

“How about salmon?”

“Nah, don’t like salmon.”


“Makes me think of salmonella.”


“Yeah. Sick.”

“Grouper then?”

“Nah. Makes me think of people.”


“Yeah, groups of people, y’know?”

“That’s weird.”

“Yeah that’s how it goes.”

“What kind of fish do you like then?”

“Oh, I dunno, any fish.”

“Any fish that’s not salmon or grouper?”

“Yeah. Or catfish.”

“Catfish. It figures.”

“Really. How’d you know?”

“Well I guess it makes you think of cats.”

“Nah. Now that’s stoopid.”


“Yeah. I got bit by a catfish when I was small.”

“Oh, that’s funny.”

“What’s funny about being bit by a fish?”

“Um, nothing, really. I’m sorry.”

“No, no, tell me what’s funny about being bit by a catfish?”

“Well, I don’t think I’ve ever heard of anyone …”

“Being bit by a catfish?”

“Um, well no, I mean yes.”

“Yeah, what?”

“Um. Being bitten. But never mind.”

“But I mind. Look it took two fingers.”

“Oh, wow. They’re gone. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. Fingers don’t grow back, y’know?”

“I know. I’m so sorry. I should never have brought it up.”

“Yer right ‘bout that.”

“So what can I get you to eat instead?”

“Instead of what?”

“Instead of fingers … er, I mean fish.”

“Are you messin’ with me?”

“No, no. It slipped, I’m sorry. Look, let me give you five dollars …”

“Five bucks? Whaddya think I can get fer five bucks?”

“Well, there’s lots of things.”

“D’ya think I could get a steak fer five bucks?”

“But you didn’t want a steak.”

“But what if I did?”

“Ok. Ok. I’m sorry, look here’s a twenty. Enjoy your dinner.”

I dropped a twenty dollar bill into the panhandler’s box and fled.

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Unless otherwise noted, all articles are written by Cath Rathbone. (Copyright Catherine (Cath) Rathbone and Noony Brown)