I’ve tried to stay away,

but I can’t.

I wanted a sandwich.

She was there,

like a housekeeper in a gothic horror film.

I sensed danger, right away

but I ignored my instincts and asked for,

“Italian Herb and Cheese Bread.”

“You know, my son’s gay lover tried to kill him.”

That was her opening line, I couldn’t believe my good luck.

“He’s a bodybuilder, so he’s dangerous. He’s big and black. My son says he has a big dick. Would you like salami?”

“Sure,” I said.

“He tried to run me over with his car in the parking lot. I dodged him. I bought my son a taser and pepper spray. You should hear the taser. It’s enough to scare the shit out of anyone. I was homeless, until yesterday. I got assistance from the government and now I’m making payments on that car.”

She pointed to the one in the parking lot.

It was worth at least 50,000 dollars. It was a top-of-the-line luxury electric.

“Nice car,” I said.

“What else do you want on your sandwich, Budd?”

“Tomatoes, Peppers, Onions, Ranch, and Salt and Pepper.”

“You know, I buried my mother and father last week. I put them underground in the National Cemetery. My sister committed suicide last fall.”

“That must be difficult,” I said with a sigh.

“That’ll be 10.93.”

I paid with a credit card. She kept talking to me.

“I’ve got to go. I’ll be in next week to hear the rest of your story.”

“Thanks Budd.”

7 thoughts on “Stories from the Woman at Subway

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