The Pumpkin Muffin

Chris was British, so he liked small dramas. If he had to tell tiny lies to create them, so much the better. It certainly livened up a dull life.

Chris also liked pumpkin muffins. Every day he'd go to Variety Coffee Shop on Graham Avenue to order a pumpkin muffin and a cappuccino. He stood out from the usual hipster crowd, with his British accent and rakish hat and being at least twice their ages, so his order quickly became known by the four barristas.

"You sure do like pumpkin muffins," one barrista said.

Chris wanted life to be more exciting than people just eating stuff because they liked it. And he particularly didn't want to be known as the guy who couldn't resist pumpkin muffins. Just on a whim, he decided to liven things up. "It's not for me," he said. "There's an old Italian lady who lives upstairs from me. She lives all alone, and she has to be ninety years old. She doesn't get out much any more and she just loves pumpkin muffins."

The barrista's jaw dropped. "You are so sweet," she said. "That's the nicest thing I've ever heard."

Chris came back the next day, and the next, and the next. He ordered the cappuccino and pumpkin muffin, and all the barristas quietly admired his thoughtfulness. But one day Chris went in and decided he just didn't feel like a pumpkin muffin. He wasn't in the mood. "Just a cappuccino, please," he said to the barrista.

"What's up?" asked the worried barrista. "Why not a pumpkin muffin?"

Inspiration hit, and when inspiration hit Chris went with it. "The old woman died. It was very sad. The whole family was there, and they ate Italian food. The funeral is today. It's just barely hit me. It's so strange to order just a cappuccino now. I can hardly believe she's gone."

"Ohmigod," said the barrista. "That is so sad."

"But thank God for you," said another barrista. "You made her life so much better in the last few months by always thinking about her."

All the barristas nodded in agreement. Chris hung his head sadly as he exited with just a cappuccino.

The next day Chris decided he wanted a muffin again. "A cappuccino and a pumpkin muffin," he said to the barrista.

"But I thought the old woman died," she said.

"She did," he said sadly. "But I decided I'm going to eat a pumpkin muffin every day in memory of her."

The other barristas wiped away tears. "That is the sweetest thing I ever heard," one said.

Chris was elated by this development. Now he could eat a pumpkin muffin every day, and nobody would think it was just because he loved pumpkin muffins. And every day thereafter Chris bought a cappucino and a pumpkin muffin. And every day four barristas, as well as nearly all of the people Chris met, said, "There goes a really special guy."

$2,430 if they eat avocados.

But good underwear might.

Last Night I Dreamt I Flossed My Teeth And When I Woke Up They Felt Great

I'm not sure why. I often dream that I have an intelligent thought, and I find some paper and I write it down. When I wake up in the morning, though, I realize that dream-me isn't very dependable. But last night I dreamt I flossed my teeth and when I woke up they felt great.

I dreamt I lived on a busy corner in Manhattan, at 6th Avenue and 10th Street. I had cyclone fencing around my yard, and I was standing just inside it, flossing my teeth with a thin strip of wood while looking across the street as it changed through time. In the 70s there were independently-owned businesses like Leo Bear's TVs, Eartha's Flowers, and Red-E-Go Auto Repair. These were gone by the 90s, replaced by a Blockbuster Video and a 16 Handles frozen yogurt shop. When we got to the present, there was an Urban Outfitters next to a multi-story restaurant with a roof deck where a couple hundred NYU students were getting drunk and having brunch.

Some of these students saw me and came over. "Why are you wasting your time flossing your teeth?" one said. "Why don't you come out here and get drunk and have brunch?"

"I'm not sure I like you people," I said. "And my teeth feel great."