We sit across from each other at a wooden picnic table. The paint used to be red, but it’s chipped, and sun-faded, the weathered wood showing through. Lil’ Carlo was here at one time, apparently, and carved this into the top of the table, next to a crude etch of a stick figure riding a penis. I trace it with my finger, and wish I had something to add to the carving. Maybe a top hat on the figure; class it up a bit.

“Are you a fan of Kurasawa?” he asks as he takes a sip from his beer bottle.

“Kurasawa makes mad films,” I reply, not looking up from the table. I can tell he’s looking at me, so I glance up at him. He has a blank expression on his reddened face. We’ve been sitting outside for a few hours and his cheeks and forehead show it.


“‘Kurasawa makes mad films’ is a song lyric,” I tell him. “It’s from the song ‘One Week’ by the Barenaked Ladies,” I state matter-of-factly.

“Heh…that’s actually what they say?”

“‘Kurasawa makes made films, I don’t make films, but if I did they’d have a samurai,’” I recite.

He stares at me, smiling. “You’re a fascinating woman, you know that?”

“I get that a lot. Do you have a pen? Or like, a pocket knife or something?”

He pats his pants pockets. “Sorry, I left it with my Scout master.”

I let out a quick chuckle at his joke.

“Why do you want a pocket knife, may I ask?”

“I want to carve a T-Rex fighting this guy riding the penis,” I say. “I think that would greatly enhance the artistic value of this piece.”

He shakes his head and finishes his beer, slamming it on the table. A paint chip flies up and lands in my glass of beer. I give him a look, and fish the fleck out with my finger.

“Oops, sorry,” he apologizes. “You want another? This round’s on me.”

“Sure. Thanks. I’ll have the same thing, please.”

He gets up from the table and goes inside to fetch our beers.

I look around the beer garden and see a woman sitting by herself. I walk over to her and ask if she has a pen. She does and hands it to me. I go back to our table and start drawing my masterpiece.