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“My name is Perry,” said Perry, as he offered the Mayor his hand. He was overdressed to the nines in a black suit, knotted cravat and purple paisley vest.
“I see,” said the Mayor looking him up and down. “And… Do we know each other?”
“Actually, we’ve never had the pleasure,” said Perry, bowing slightly. “As I said, my name is Perry, Percival James Simpson actually, and I am the assistant to the Director of the Department of Transportation. Mr Greggor couldn’t be here this evening. Seems he’s suddenly taken quite ill.”
“Oh. I hope he’ll be okay.”
“I’m sure he’ll be right as rain in no time,” Perry said knowingly.
“That’s good. That’s good,” added the Mayor as he helped himself to the last of his shrimp and flagged down the girl with the crab puffs. “Thank you darlin’,” he said. He was trying to be charming but it came out kind of creepy.
“No problem,” she said as she watched him scoop every last crab puff she carried off her tray and onto his.
“Maybe a few more?”
“Uh, sure. Be right back.”
The Mayor popped the crab puffs in two at a time, which was no small feat, as each one was about the size of a golf ball. Through a seafood snack filled mouthful he continued, “So, Mr Greggor…”
“Yes, so, as I was saying, Mr Greggor has unexpectedly taken ill and he asked me to come in his place. To represent the department and all that.”
“I see. Well, that’s wonderful. Glad you could make it. I’m sure you’ll have a good time. The weather is perfect, the band is lovely and the food is incredibl…”
He didn’t finish. Instead he lunged for the guy with the cheesy poofs, “You there!”
In the process he almost fell off his scooter. Luckily, Patrick was there to catch him. All three hundred and sixty-two pounds of him.
It had been a couple of big eating weeks for the Mayor, what with the contest and his birthday and that summer barbecue and the Monday night two for one weekly pizza special at his favorite slice joint, and… He had definitely put on a couple more in the last week or so.
Patrick buckled under the Mayor’s weight, barely keeping him from falling over. Some of the closest guests jumped in to help too. All straining to get the Mayor upright. All grabbing large chunks of fleshy arm and saggy belly. Hooking their hands around his thick belt as they heaved and hoed him back up onto his perc
h. Even the cheesy poof guy jumped in, dropping the tray in the process and dumping all those puffy golden treats to the ground as he did.
“Noooooo….” the Mayor cried, in anguish for the lost poofs.
When everything had settled down, and the Mayor had righted himself and regained his composure, he turned his attention back to Perry. The only one close by not to pitch in and help.
As the Mayor tumbled, Perry had stood still as a statue and watched, not lifting a finger. He wasn’t actually sure whether the Mayor had noticed or not. And to be frank, he didn’t care.
“Well, thank you for coming,” said the Mayor. “I hope you have a good time.”
Perry bowed again. It was slight, but it was there. Then he said, “Thank you Mr Mayor,” putting an undue emphasis on the word you. “I’m absolutely sure I will.”
39
Romeo tossed another bucket of onions onto the portable griddle. The juice sputtered and hissed as it instantly turned to steam and wafted up into the summer sky.
“We’re gonna need more,” he said.
His dad answered without looking up. “More what?”
“More onions.”
“Yeah. I know that. Marco is on his way here.” Then Monty went back to showing Benny how he wanted the rolls cut. They had thought about changing their usual. Getting small individual rolls for the party, but at the end of the day, Monty decided he didn’t want to chance trying something untested.
So instead, he was showing Benny how to cut the ends off the rolls they alway use, and then slice the remaining body into three equal sections. That gave them three mini rolls, each a touch bigger than three inches long. Perfect for making and serving mini versions of their famous cheesesteak.
“Good? You got it?” he asked.
