The Curmudgeonly Lion drove down to pick me up from work and we went to get dinner at a Pitfire Pizza. He got a meatball hoagie. I got macaroni and cheese. We shared a flight of beers. Neither of had any pizza at all.

Pitfire is one of those pizza places that considers its workto be artisinal. The salads are spring greens, not iceberg lettuce. The cheese is shaved not grated. The water is served in a glass jar.

It’s also, evidently, the place rich folk bring their kids, because the place was mobbed with waist high humans who looked like they’d been taught some of the finer points of sophisticated dining. All of them seemed to be well behaved, there were just a lot of them. When the table beside us cleared out, I realized how the restaurant was facilitating this kind of dining serenity: left behind on the table was a small box of modeling clay in bright colors. Instead of the usual low quality crayons (which only seem to come in two packs of green and orange and are so waxy as to be useless) the restaurant supplied play dough. (Gluten free!)

“Grab me one of those.” I told the Lion, who filched one of the boxes off the table before it was bussed.

“You gonna make something?” He asked. “What are you gonna make?”

I opened up the package and separated the colors. The clay was soft and molded easily. It smells nice- sweet. I rolled a piece been my hands.

“I don’t know,” I said “Some kind of bird I think.” I wanted an excuse to use as many of the colors as I could, as the clay made me think of peacocks. I modeled a little purple body, yellow beak, blue shoulders, red wings green tail. The finished bird was soft: too fragile to take with me. I balanced him on the edge of the box as left him on the table for the server.


~ by Gwydhar Gebien on April 4, 2019.

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