Day CCLIV

At Helena's

     I really preferred going back to Cheo’s place, but for sure he would still be miffed with me. So I went to the Greek’s over on Jerome Avenue off of Fordham Road.

     “Ya sooo coockla!” I hailed the waitress, a hot looking, thirty something Helena.

     “Wat can I do ya fo dude?” She smiled.

     “How bouda chicken soup?” It heals all things I’d heard, and I hopped it would get me out of my acid dimension, my madness, my dementia.

      “Wat else handsome?” She smiled again.

      “Let’s doodet foist an see, okay?”

      “Ya don’t look so good dude, is ya okay?”

     She was old, well not so old…she was really hot, but at that time in my life any female over thirty was olde. Let’s just say she was at least a decade older, and perhaps not someone who would understand. So I smiled,

     “Just tired sweets, had a rough nite.” That she understood.

     She brought me a big, steaming bowl of chicken noodle soup, and left. After a short while she came back while I was slowly in the middle of finishing it, and asked again.

    

     “Youse gon has sompem else sweetie?”

     “Yea…how bouda boigah, fwies, da woiks, let us, t’matas, ana medium coke.”

     “Cool man, ya needs meat, ya na. Good red meat, it’s good fo ya.”

     Afterwards I had half of a linzer tart, it was all I could stuff into myself. Then I called her over,

    

     “Gimme da check sweets!”

     “Damn, I din’t think ya wuz gon put alla det away, dude.”

     “Well I ga it a shot, uh.”

     She smiled, gave me the check, and I left her a nice tip.

     “I hope ya gon come back soon dude,” she smiled.

     “How can I not, ya da bestest tamata ina place.” I said as I went out the door.