Pea Soup

It was a cool night for late spring. John Arra’s stomach growled. There was nothing worth eating in the fridge. So he drove into town. The only place open was Beau’s Diner. It had once been his favorite place. Beau and his wife Belle always greeted him with a smile. But Covid wore them out. They were bought out by a food conglomerate and John Arra lost interest in going there. He shrugged, parked the car, went in and sat at a table. He noticed the $9.95 dinner special featured on a chalkboard easel: Pea Soup.

A waitress approached. Her hair was dyed with rainbow colors and she was obviously wearing fake eyelashes. Her lips and boobs seemed unnaturally swollen. She raised her pencil-thin eyebrows at John Arra in greeting.

He said, “I’ll have the special.”

Lickety-split she returned from the kitchen and set a bowl full of water in front of him. She reached in the pocket of her smock, pulled out a pea, and plopped it in the bowl.

“There,” she said, “Pea soup. Enjoy.”

*     *     *

An old man, looking like he hadn’t had a loving human touch in years, maybe decades, shuffled up to the microphone. Even though he was squinting, anyone could see that his eyes were dead, but they darted from person to person in the crowd in front of him. Had to be the Aderol, they all thought simultaneously.

“The American principle that no one is above the law was reaffirmed,” he said, his voice tinny and his tone shrill. “Donald Trump was given every opportunity to defend himself…The jury heard five weeks of evidence, five weeks. After careful deliberation, the jury reached a unanimous verdict… They found Donald Trump guilty on all 34 felony counts.

“It’s reckless. It’s dangerous. It’s irresponsible for anyone to say this was rigged just because they don’t like the verdict.”

Pea soup.

*     *     *

John Arra stood up, staring at the waitress. He pulled a ten-spot out of his wallet and laid it on the table. “Keep the change,” he said.

“That’s not enough.”

“But the sign says $9.95.”

“That sign’s been there since Trump. We’re short-handed, so no one’s changed it. The price is $13.95 now.”

John Arra fished four ones out of his pocket.

He left with his stomach growling.

Pea Soup.

For a two-page PDF statement of where Way Out Charlotte Pike is coming from, please CLICK HERE.

Author: John Arra

John Arra is the pen name of a determined individualist who tries to connect the dots of life by writing.

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