As I was coming out of the Dusty Shelves Market a few days ago, there was a young man asking people to sign something. Of course, I didn't have time to read what I was signing at the time, but yesterday my bridge partner told me there's a petition going around that none of us Right-Thinking Alamedans should be signing. When I heard that, I took out the copy that young man gave me, and darned if it wasn't something completely different than what I'd imagined!
Today I went back to confront this signature-gathering fellow, but he seems to have vanished without a trace! Oh, but he was such a smooth-talking and persuasive gentleman. I can't for the life of me remember his name, but I think it was "Stan." Anyway, he sure knew how to sweet-talk a Right-Thinking Alamedan gal. He promised that if I'd just sign his little petition, he would put Chuck Corica back in the mayor's office where he belongs, get that loveable cartoon kid into Congress, and personally guarantee that no-one would ever, ever park in front of my house again.
I was just about to sign on the dotted line when I caught a whiff of something that reminded me of the time the market's egg cooler went on the fritz back in '98. I was distracted by something swishing behind his back, and then I glanced down and noticed something funny about his feet. I looked him straight in the eye and said, "Something about this doesn't seem right. It's almost too good to be true. What's the catch?"
He just smiled and said something about my sole. You see, I had just been to the fish counter, and he could probably smell those freshly thawed filets through the wrapper. While I was trying to explain to him that I wasn't asking about the catch of the day, I suddenly found myself swapping Cajun seafood recipes with him. He seemed to know a lot about the proper temperature for really blackening a sole to perfection.
Somehow, I guess I must have signed the petition while we were chatting. He was just so charming, and his knowledge of cooking was so extensive, that I couldn't concentrate. Now that I look at it again, though, I'm pretty sure I shouldn't have made the bargain I did. How does one withdraw a signature they were duped into giving?
Wednesday, April 8, 2009