“Look, Peasy Lou...look at that tiny man in the peculiar jockstrap!”
Sure enough, Elsa Mae Grabbethorn was gesticulating wildly at a short Greek man wearing a codpiece that had been crafted from what appeared to be chrome and lunchmeat. This trip to the big city was turning out to be more exciting than she had expected, and this was only the first day. Tuesday's side trip to the lard rendering plant was sure to top even a peculiar jockstrap.
Peasy Lou sauntered over to the tiny man and tried to be subtle about inspecting his codpiece. To be certain, it was made of chrome and something that looked like it might be braunschweiger. The braunschweiger was molded into small peaks and tufts, giving the appearance of studded armor.
“Cracker?” asked the tiny man, proferring a crispy wheat round and a plastic knife. Peasy Lou blanched and was unable to respond.
“Cat got your tongue, Peasy Lou?” asked Elsa Mae, smiling and looking hungrily at the braunschweiger. “Cause if you haven't got the gumption to dig into that scrumptious luncheon meat, I believe I will myself.”
The tiny Greek man offered the plastic knife and cracker to Elsa Mae, who readily accepted both and dove in greedily. The tiny Greek man struggled to remain upright as the plastic knife was plunged deeply into the braunschweiger.
“I remember a luncheon spread like this that I had one summer at the Minnesota State Fair...I think that it was made from veal, and it was displayed for consumption upon a pair of velvet spats. This is much heartier, though...it has much more body to it. Doesn't it, Peasy Lou? Oh here, you must try some.” Elsa tried handing the plasctic knife to Peasy Lou, who remained silent and immobile.
“Another cracker?” asked the small Greek man.
“Oh, don't mind if I do,” replied Elsa Mae, “they are ever so light and crispy. Thank you.”
Elsa Mae sliced off an entire mound of braunschweiger and piled it on to an already overloaded crispy wheat round. She looked intently at the man, glancing up and down. Raising an eyebrow she inquired, “did you go to Pitherington High School, class of '69?”
“Yes, indeed I did.” The tiny Greek man raised an eyebrow in return.
“Gregory Snoffaloppalous? The president of the theater club and captain of the debate team?” Elsa Mae was wide-eyed with disbelief and excitement.
“No,” replied the tiny Greek man, “Niko Pazalatalas...I just spent a lot of time in the industrial arts wing.”
“Oh,” said a deflated Elsa Mae Grabbethorn, clearly let down, “I am terribly sorry.”
“Not a problem,” answered Niko, “Greg is down by the next set of tables – you'll see him. He's wearing a seaweed vest.”
Elsa Mae grew radiant once more. “Come on, Peasy Lou, let's go get us some Futomaki.”
(Appeared in Red Fez #34, May 2011)
(Appeared in Red Fez #34, May 2011)
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