“I’d like one.”
“When everyone else has had one, you may have another.”
“I’ve been coming here for 20 years. Do you have any idea how much money I spend here every week?”
“We’ve only been here about 3 years sir.”
“Sonofabitch! I’ve fought in wars. I’ve killed lots of men in battle. A piece of shrapnel almost lodged itself in my left ear. Don’t tell me I don’t know what I am talking about. Now give me another one of those damn frozen flautas.
“It’s a taquito.”
He stormed off like a man who had just been told a flauta was actually a taquito.
Julia wondered how much more of this she could take. Those lucky bastards over at Whole Foods probably didn’t have to deal with disgruntled old timers. Old people couldn’t afford to eat there. On second thought, they probably had to deal with people who were rich enough to eat there. At least old people were likely too senile to know what they were saying. She headed for the back room to get some more tiny paper cups, like the ones they give you when you want a sample at the yogurt place downtown.