excuse me, sir, you have eggs in your pocket

i routinely tell myself that i am going to stop using this blog exclusively to tell dumb stories about the weird people at the coffee house, but they just keep coming. there is nothing i can do about this. i can't laugh in their faces (usually) so i have to do something.

today a man walked up to the counter and ordered his decaf brewed coffee. like he does every day. then he made exhausted, anguished sounds with this voice and breath. like he does every day. then he said something about having to wake up. also every day. i have not yet informed him that the decaf coffee might not help because it doesn't seem like my business.

at some point during the search for cash in his pockets, mr. decaf tapped the outside of his jacket pocket and said, puzzled, "what's this?" i didn't know because i was not inside his pocket at the time. i shrugged, indicating that i was unsure of the answer to his question and unsure of who he was really talking to. then mr. decaf reached into said pocket and pulled out a breakfast sandwich in a bright yellow waxy paper wrapper.

i can only hope that the sandwich had been there for a very brief period of time. how can someone possibly have such a thing in their pocket and not know it? that's warm eggs and meat. in a pocket. a jacket pocket. how could he actually be wondering "what's this?" how often does he just happen upon a breakfast sandwich in his pocket? does he do the same with lunch?

he ate it. he didn't know it was there, found it, ate it.

i think i might try this in public, just to see if the response i get from other normal people is similar to my own response to mr. Egg McPocket. i am going to go to Barnes and Noble, and while i am getting ready to check out, i'll reach into my pocket, say "what's this?", and pull out a taco. it has to be as weird as i think it is.