a scene of dialogue for a yet unwritten story

Inside a bakery...

"do you want your own knish?"

"no, i'm not that hungry. can we just split one?"

"they're only a buck each, why don't i just buy two?"

"i don't want a whole one. and then i'll end up throwing it away after."

"i'll just eat what you don't finish."

"then you'll be too full for dinner. i didn't come out here to see you stuff your face with knish. we're splitting the knish. just get one. the goddamn deli lady has been staring at us for five minutes. she already thinks you're an asshole for arguing with me. order the knish so we can get out of here."

"fine. excuse me, can i have one of those potato knishes, please. thanks"

(description of action. watching her take the knish from the tray. some cosmic signficance. attitude toward characters also significant. whatever)

whispers...."don't forget to leave a tip."

"there's no tip jar, how can i leave a tip? i'm not going to tip a woman for pulling a knish from a display case. what am i going to do? give her a dollar? that's as much as a knish. i could buy another knish for that price. and i'm not going to leave change. 'hey thanks for that sweaty labor, getting that knish out and all. here's fifty cents.'what kind of cheap shit is that?"

"shut up, she can hear you."

"she knows what's going on. i think she's aware of the fact that she doesn't have a tip jar. it's her own fault. i didn't put her in this position. if she wants a tip, she'd make it easy to tip her. i don't need some awkward exchange. tentative hands, half outstretched like she's some charity case. (narrator intrudes: compares this tipping situation to tipping the barber. they're right there. hand them folded overr bills. hand them the money and run. when the money is unflolded, you're already out the door.) like you said, let's just get out of here."

they leave the bakery. walk along the street.

"where are you going? i just bought you a knish and now you act like it's laced with anthrax. do you want this thing or not? 'cause i'll eat the whole..."

"will you just shut up? i can't talk to you right now."

she grabs the bag from his hand and rips off a piece of the knish. chews the whole mouthful. continues walking quickly away from him. enters book store.

"hey, i can't go in a bookstore with a knish. it says no food or drinks."

"that's not my problem."

"i'll just finish what's left. meet you inside."

"you're not really going to eat it, are you?"

"no, i'm going to stand outside and cuddle with a knish, maybe sculpt the mashed potato into the statue of liberty. of course i'm going to eat it."

"but, i might want some later."

"that's why i wanted to buy two."

"just put it back in the bag and twist tie it up. we'll eat it later."

(blah, blah, blah. browsing bookstore. time elapses)

outside bookstore...

"finally, i was so hungry."

guy pulls out knish.

"here, you want some?"

"no, i don't want anymore now."

"what? you made me wrap this shit up because you might be hungry later and now you don't want it? why the hell didn't you let me eat it before we went in the store?"

"don't yell at me. i didn't know if i would wanted it or not, so i wanted you to save me some just in case."

"did the fact that i hadn't eaten anything all day cross your mind? did you somehow forget that the reason we bought the knish in the first place was because the only thing i've eaten was a banana? this is why i wanted seperate knishes. never again will i split food with you again."

"it's not my fault you're hungry. you should've ate something before we left. and don't try to make this my fault. "

"i should have eaten something."

"thank you. my point, exactly, now we can drop the whole thing."

"no, no. i mean, you said 'you should have ate something...' you should have said, "you should have eaten something. you used the wrong tense."

"oh my god, this is not happening. do not turn this whole thing into being my fault. i'm not going to take the blame for your stupidity. and don't you dare correct my english and stand there with your smug, self satisfied little grin. i swear to god..."

"hey, hey. there's no need to bring god into this. he never cheated me out of a knish. besides, it's not polite to swear. it's somewhere up there with not tipping bakery workers. 'thou shall always tip the knish lady.' i'm up there on the sinner's scale, right? selfish assholes are sure to burn a toasty death, right?... yeah, okay. go ahead and ignore me. cause that's the mature thing to do. this isn't first grade. we're adults and we can talk about feelings. can you talk about your feelings? cause i can talk about mine. guess what? today's conversation is sponsored by the letter "B." for bitch."