five dollars

On my half-hour break from work this afternoon, I found a good patch of sunshine by the pier and leaned back to devour my 6-inch tuna Sub.

I was feeling good. I had found 5 dollars in the middle of Broadway earlier in the day, a busy Sydney Street. I was running across an intersection when I saw something familiar and purple, wet from the winter rain. I managed to take a few steps back and snatch it just when every pedestrian’s familiar friend, the red man, blinked his last few blinks. I managed to reach the sidewalk just before the onslaught of traffic… which wasn’t much of an onslaught, really. It was a quiet, Sunday winter’s morn. Everyone was in bed. 

Sweet, I thought. I get to save five bucks today. The five bucks bought me the Sub.

In my patch of winter sunshine, I took my first bite. Food tastes so good when it’s free. It was my first time to try the Old English cheese and found it to be better than Swiss and Cheddar.  

I was about to take a second heavenly bite when I was assaulted. Assaulted by a sound. The sound of wings. Then I was hit in the face, and torso by a can of soup wrapped in a feather pillow. At least that’s what the impact felt like. I didn’t know what hit me. All I knew was that next moment, half the contents of my 6-inch now lay on the rotting wooden planks of the platform on Darling Harbour. 

Then I was surrounded by a cawing mob of rats with wings fighting over cucumbers and olives. All of them were there, even the one-legged one, and the ones that pretend to be one-legged. 

What the eff, I thought, in total disbelief. Did a sea gull just dive-bomb into my sandwich? Was that deliberate or a mid-air mishap on the bird’s part? … and, does that mean I can’t eat my sub anymore because it has bird germs? What if I cut off just the dirty end? 

Before I could make a decision, I got swooped down on by the flying rat again, and the rest of my sub and its innards lay on the ground. All I could keep of it for myself were a few smears of mayo on my fingers, and sad little bits of lettuce on my skirt. 

With what little dignity I had left, I stood up, faced the many spectators whose repressed smiles betrayed the sorry look they had on their faces, and shrieked,  ”I’m never eating here again!”, and stormed off. 

And that is the tail of my free 5-dollar note which ultimately cost me my dignity. The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away. 

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