we went to the firehouse cafe in venice and sat down at the counter. no hint as to what was to come. <---foreshadowing. Boy and the reverend discussed beer and the incredibly pertinent points of the case "rolls royce v. bentley." i waited silently for nourishment.
this is because i am useless to everyone without food in my belly. i am brain dead and very angry, a shrill harpy with gnashing teeth. i require turkey sausage and breakfast potatoes if i am to be the beauty with whom you are all acquainted. turkey sausage now!
approximately 13 minutes after we entered, Boy nudged me and whispered the sweetest words i am ever to hear. he looked deep into my eyes and held my hand and said quietly, "herr james caan kam gerade herein." but maybe in english.
"james caan just came in."
to the firehouse! for food! this was especially shocking because i thought james caan needed no food. james caan eats only to appear mortal.
i immediately scribbled a note on my napkin to give to the waitress. in my best "i'm-not-crazy-please-believe-me" handwriting i wrote
dear james caan
i like you. check here if you like me too.
sincerely, the girl in the leopard coat at the breakfast counter
then my sausage came so i ate it.
the waitress (who was not of the "i'm-really-an-actress-please-believe-me" variety as evidenced by her habit of actually being nice to people) returned my note and i held it in my hand for brief few moments of golden anticipation.
the check mark glowed with a preternatural light, probably because james caan has a pen filled with human souls. james caan takes them from the undesereving and james caan doesn't ask first.
of course i jumped up from the counter and ran into james caan's arms where we persisted in making out until the gray skies cleared and sun burned through. the clouds were a little thin but they got it together and fluffed right up. it was james caan's will.
*disclaimer* elements of this story may be fabricated- maybe- but james caan is for real.