they were feeding their toddler mushy handfuls of what looked like jalapinos. the woman was complaining because last week she bought a quiche from this very same deli and then couldn't eat it because, duh!, she's vegan.
the toddler poked me in the back with a large novelty pencil and when i turned around he had this big cute old grin on his face. [of course, that could have been a look of firey agony from having hot peppers shred through his soft little pink puffy digestive tract.]
"quit stabbing the lady, beezlebub," hippie mom said.
he poked me again.
"quit stabbing the lady, beezlebub," the hippie mom repeated.
really, i didn't mind. he was cute.
"it's so hard since he doesn't understand english," hippie mom said to me.
"oh really?" i asked. assuming he was adopted from the ukraine.
"well, not yet," she said. gave me a "duh" look.
"oh. right," i said.
"he's from a different country," she added.
i just looked at her. i thought we'd already covered this.
"it's called in utero," she said.
"i've been," i wished i'd answered. "it was crazy. i barely remember it at all."
if i were to write a screenplay about duluth, that scene would sum it up. except the kid would have been ramming me with an incense stick instead of just a common pencil.