‘How happy you want it?’ asked the waiter.
‘Eh…’ We looked at each other.
‘Regular happy?’ I offered. Was he going to make a face on it with toppings? Lars looked at us in pity, and leaned towards us. ‘He means how much marijuana do you want on it!’ ‘Really?!’ I ask, very much not expecting this. The waiter nods enthusiastically. Kevin is just as perplexed as I, and we hastily change our orders. Vegetarian will do just fine.
‘Hello! Whatisyourname?’ shouts a boy of about 8, although he struts like he is in his 20’s, leading a pack of similarly aged kids through a rice field.
‘Hello! I am Leon, rider of bicycles, conqueror of dirt roads, eater of banana chips!’ I roar back.
There is suddenly silence. They stop and stare, mouths agape. Perhaps I have gone too far.
I beat my chest and speed by. That’ll give them something to talk about.