Group 9
Genre: Comedy
Location: An upscale restaurant
Object: A photo album
1000 words
Synopsis: During dinner, Gary is forced to come to terms with his girlfriend and sense of fashion.
Gary Lemon never took off his hat. It was a red beanie, the kind that was in fashion among hipsters; the kind worn with mustaches, ironic t-shirts, and skinny jeans. But Gary wasn’t a hipster. And he didn’t wear skinny jeans. If it was up to Gary he’d wear shorts all the time.
“Shorts let my legs breathe.”
Much to the dismay of his girlfriend (and most people), it became high fashion to wear socks with sandals.
“Please, Gary. You look like a German.”
“Bah. I’m ahead of my time. Besides, socks keep my feet from sweating.”
People’s real dismay came from the fact that Gary had a girlfriend. Her name was Aurora.
“I think I’ll just call you Dawn,” said Gary upon first meeting Aurora while posting a flyer for his band.
“Why would you do that, Dick?”
“I like you.”
Aurora looked at the flyer. “Fleshlump?”
“Yeah. The name was my idea.”
“Lump is better.”
Since then they’d been dating for a year. To celebrate they decided to go out for dinner somewhere fancy.
“How about Le Grande?” asked Aurora.
“Is that the place where the d and e are both silent?”
“I think so.”
“Ok.”
“You have to wear pants.”
Le Grande was downtown in the old Dale Granderson Box factory. The inside was modern and sleek, but the outside was worn and weathered. The front door was original to the factory.
“Hello,” said the maître d as they entered. “Welcome to Le Grande. Do you have a reservation?”
“Yes,” said Gary. “Two for Lemon.”
“Ah, yes. If you’ll follow me I’ll bring you to your table. Sir, may I ask you to remove your hat?”
“Excuse me?”
“Your beanie. We don’t allow hats in the dining area.”
Gary looked at Aurora, then back at the maître d.
“I’m already wearing pants, man.”
A teen and his parents were leaving. The boy was wearing a cardigan, but his t-shirt was clearly visible. The opposite of wrinkly - #irony.
“Dude,” said the teen when he saw Gary. “Are you in Lump?”
Gary nodded.
“You guys are awesome. I love Lump.”
Gary smiled as he watched the boy and his parents exit the factory door. He turned back to the maître d. As Gary opened his mouth, words came out, but they weren’t his.
“It’s a medical condition,” said Aurora. “He has something call curd scalp. It makes the top of his head look like cottage cheese. It’s sort of embarrassing so…”
“Oh my god, that’s awful,” said the maître d. “I’m so sorry. Please keep that on and follow me.” He led them to a table and gave them menus. “Your waiter will be with you shortly. Again, I’m so sorry.”
Gary looked at Aurora.
“Curd scalp?”
“I’ve had that in my back pocket for awhile.”
“Well played.”
Aurora pretended to look at the menu. Gary studied his.
“I’m not sure if I want the Steak Diane or the Steak Florentine. They both sound so deliciously feminine and formal.”
“Gar?”
“Ror?”
“Why do you wear that hat all the time?”
Gary put his menu down.
“Seriously? Are we going to do this? Now? Here?”
Aurora widened her eyes. Gary narrowed his.
“I just do,” Gary and Aurora said at the same time.
“I know,” said Aurora touching his arm. “Can I show you something?”
Aurora took out her phone. After a series of taps and swipes, she handed it to Gary.
“Go ahead,” she said. “There are about three hundred pictures in that album. In every single one of them is that hat. Every single one. Even when we went to the lake.”
Gary thumbed through the photos. Every now and then a smile would float across his face. He laughed and turned the phone to Aurora. “Remember how bad that smelled?”
“Gary,” said Aurora. “I’ve never seen you without your hat. You sleep with it. It’s me, you, and your hat when we’re in bed. I’m just going to go ahead and say it - it’s weird.”
“It’s not that weird.”
“It’s pretty weird.”
“What if it was a wig?”
“Exactly. Because it’s not.”
Gary took a sip of water.
“Do you know what you want?” asked the waiter who suddenly appeared behind Gary.
“No,” said Gary almost doing a spit take. “We need another minute.”
Aurora put her phone back in her purse and looked at Gary.
“I know it’s crazy because what are the odds,” she said. “But is it curd scalp?”
Gary smiled and shook his head.
“No.”
“Well then what?”
Gary leaned forward in his chair, took a deep breath.
“Ok,” he whispered. “It’s my skull. I don’t like the shape of my skull. It’s flat in back.”
Gary sat back and waved his hand as if to say, ta dah!
“That’s it?”
“Yes,” said Gary. “That’s it.”
The maître d came over to the table.
“Excuse me, we’re pretty busy tonight. Tony said he tried to take your-“
“We need another minute,” interrupted Gary.
“I’m sure it’s not that bad,” said Aurora.
“It is. It’s like a board. It’s like a kitchen counter. It’s like earth pre-Columbus.”
“Prove it!”
“Fine!”
Gary pulled off his hat.
The maître d screamed and fell into the table behind him. Plates and glasses flew up in the air, then shattered on the floor. The restaurant fell silent. All eyes went from Gary to the maître d.
“Are you okay, man?” asked Gary.
“I’m fine. I’m sorry. I just, I thought...” The maître d stared at Gary’s head and then glowered at him. “I do not appreciate being made the fool.”
“I’m sorry,” said Gary. “My head is flat in back. Like I was dropped on my head as a baby. I’m very self-conscious. In fact, this is the first time my girlfriend has ever seen me without my hat.”
“Oh,” said the maître d wiping potatoes from his jacket. “It’s not that bad.”
“It’s a little flat,” said Aurora. “But no worse than socks with sandals.”
