Southie Snacks: corner store edition or "Design, Design, Design, DEATH"

google image: falala

This morning I entered the east side market liquor store where I buy my morning teas, juices, and the occasional can of sliced beets and saw that Falala was working along with a new girl I don't know. Falala is a tall girl who wears glasses and may be related to Big-beard who also works at the east side market. She seems very funny although we have never spoken. I think we are good friends because whenever I buy stuff from her she is smiling and her smile looks like a secret smile to herself and also to me. It has occurred to me that she may be smiling like this at all times, but I choose to take it personally.

Unfortunately, the opportunities for initiating a sparkling (because it must be sparkling!) conversation inside the east side market are mostly very weak and limited to these two categories; "purchases" and/or "weather." This makes the close intimate friendships I desire and imagine with the employees of the east side market (especially Falala) hard to actualize, the highlights of our 4 month odd reality relationship being A) a one-time eyebrow raise made by Big-Beard ostensibly concerning the purchase of sliced beets and B) an eagerly misplaced interruption of a convo between Big-beard and Little-beard wherein I turretsed out "Do you guys like the platters!?"

original prefigurative drawing by yours truly:

So as I walked through the door this morning, expecting (as I have learned to expect) nothing, I was overjoyed to encounter the sound of a small blonde southern boy-child coming from the upper left hand corner of the wine section where the suspended television set (which is usually/sadly dedicated to sports events) hangs. The boy-child was speaking directly into the camera in that manner which entertains and also screams "I HAVE BEEN MOLESTED BY A CLOSE MEMBER OF THE FAMILY".

As I brought my purchases to the counter I again glanced at the television and discerned that the program in question was none other than "The Nate Berkus show", of which I (a semi-unemployed mid-morning riser) am all too familiar. As Falala rang up my items (secret-smiling all the while) I noticed her intently glancing up toward the television. All at once I was struck by a daytime talk tv realization which proverbially T-boned our long term mute-friendship;

 "Nate Berkus gets so strangely heavy sometimes... its like Design, Design, Design, DEATH!"

Falala laughed loudly and knowingly and said "Exactly!"

To top it off I had already signed the receipt so there was no awkward pause. I waltzed out the door. Man, it was beautiful.