The deli I frequent is unfortunately an Official Parrothead Party HQ. And you’re pretty much rolling the dice with the roast beef. And there’s definitely a little tension between the husband and wife. But it’s nearby so I go there all the time and I’m recognized as a regular even though they don’t know my name and so they call me “guy.”

You know how everybody wants to be a regular somewhere? Just stroll on in and say “the usual” and be met with something other than blank stares or like eyerolls from someone with an exposed midriff? And it’s this wistful nostalgic dream we all share deep down? Well it’s happened to me and let me tell you, the reality of the situation is suck-o-tash, as always. Because it’s not like: “The usual, sir? Coming right up! Your pomade smells just terrific, daddy-o!” It’s more like: “Oh let me guess. You want the same boring-ass sandwich you get every day. Wait let me use my psychic powers to predict the bland, soulless meal you’ve selected for today. Oh no don’t worry, I won’t put any peppers or mustard or anything with flavor on it. I mean jesus christ kid, heaven forfend you try one of the fucking specials I was up late last night inventing.”

And so now I feel guilty about ordering my usual and make a big show of pondering the specials and once in a while buckle under and go for the shitty “Jennifer Aniston” sandwich with cranberry sauce and deviled eggs or whatever fuck them.

The good news is that sometimes they’ll reward my loyalty by giving me a free nasty amaretto-flavored biscotti or, like last week, they’ll spot me the 88 cents I don’t have instead of making me sheepishly return my drink to the cooler or whatever. Or rather, they didn’t say “hey man don’t worry about it,” they said: “You’re in here all the time, just pay us back next time.” And I’m all: Aww isn’t that nice it’s nice to be a regular and have a healthy happy relationship with a local food provider that is rare in this day and WAIT YOU’RE GOING TO MAKE ME PAY BACK THAT MEASLY 88 CENTS YOU TWO-BIT SHIT MONKEY etc.

So I haven’t gone back there yet. I’m thinking maybe I should never go back? Like it was this whole scam where I invested a year becoming a regular, slowly earning their trust, and then one fateful day I’m a little short on cash and I slip away scot-free and then move on to the next unsuspecting deli and spend that 88 cents (which I totally DID have the whole time) on half a pickle or whatever that buys you these days.