Being a bartender, I certainly get asked a lot of questions; some of them funny, some stupid, and some of them just out right offensive. Still, I can always count on LJ to ask an interesting and unusual question now and then. Do you ever have homicidal fantasies? was the one he asked a couple of weeks ago. Now LJ is not the most gregarious of men, opting rarely to participate in conversation with the other patrons who frequent the cafe. Based on his morbid inquiry, I can only imagine that he would be a much happier man if his life were to be less populated with the more, lacking affiliates of mankind. And, I would not be surprise to find that he has passed an amusing hour or two daydreaming about making that a reality. Lauren, one of the waitresses and soon to be social worker, seized the question without her customary clinical inflection, Sure, Ive had some homicidal thoughts, she said with a wicked smile.Of course she's had homicidal fantasies, she's a waitress!
I'm pretty certain that most people have had homicidal thoughts at one moment or another; taking the subway at rush hour, sitting in traffic, trying to communicate with your credit card company via automated telephone systems. What does any of this have to do with food? Well, here's the thing, I have never had a homicidal thought. Not one. When someone almost knocks me off my bike with their car because they are carelessly yapping on their cellphone, I don't find myself lost in violent reverie, but instead find myself dreaming about eggs. That's right eggs. I close my eyes, and for just one moment imagine throwing a raw egg at them. I try to construct in my mind, the sound of the shell as it cracks open against the side of their face, then I try and picture the disbelief bloom on their face as the yolk drips down their cheek. That's usually all it takes for my anger and and frustration to melt away into childish laughter.
Of course some days are more frustrating than others, so when I get into a fight with the woman working the Grayhound ticket booth because she sold me the wrong ticket, or when the man across from me on the train says something perverse while making a gesture to match the vulgarity of his statement, I don't just imagine throwing one egg, I imagine engaging in an entire egg rampage. Some yuppie with an gas guzzling SUV cuts me off on my bike, SPLAT! Some self-proclaimed sidewalk preacher starts yelling at me about how I might die at any moment and that I will burn in hell because I am a shameless sinner , SPLAT! Not one person on the crowded train elects to give up their seat for a pregnant woman, SPLAT, SPLAT, SPLAT! There's no doubt that after a day of such activities, I would find myself in front of a judge. And oh how I laugh when I imagine him itemizing each and every one of my transgressions before making his judgment. How ridiculous the headlines would read, Crazed New York Woman Goes On Egg Rampage, Woman Takes Vengeance With Eggs...
As I went on and on explaining every detail of my egg fantasies, LJ laughed and Lauren just looked at me as if I were telling a tall-tale. I'm completely serious Lauren, I really do think about these things, I assured her. Lauren filled her tray up with drinks and as she walked away, said with a mischievous smile, You have got some problems girl. I'm the one with the problem, can you believe that? Is that an Official diagnosis, or should I get a second opinion, I shouted out after her, your the one with the homicidal fantasies!