Good Pussy Bad Pussy
The Good Pussy Bad Pussy Special is off to a good start today. Good Pussy Bad Pussy (Rachel’s Tale) is a novel by A. Aimee. Amy has her own category here at the Pittsburgh Flash Fiction Gazette and starting today one of her posts will be featured on the front page every day until Friday.
Check it out!
It’s turned out to be a pleasant day in The ‘Burgh, overcast in the 60s. I strolled into Little Italy to do some food shopping this morning. I walked down Liberty Avenue past all the store fronts and past the people out on the avenue. Armand’s wasn’t open yet, but I’ve spent my fun money for this month and won’t have anymore fun money until later this month anyway.
I walked on and turned down a side street and into an Italian grocery store. I asked the young woman behind the meat counter to fix me up a big container of antipasto salad. Have you ever had antipasto salad? This particular antipasto salad was made up of green and black olives, hot green peppers, mushrooms, chucks of ham and salami and chunks of two kinds of cheeses; I think one cheese was pepper jack cheese. The cheese was the only thing not marinated.
As the young woman prepared my order, two middle-age women were flouring and cutting dough and making some kind of pasta on a table along the opposite wall. They were facing me; or rather when I turned around they were facing me. All three women, the young one and the two older ones, wore some sort of white uniform.
“Looks like you’re hard at work,” I said to the two older women.
“Yes, there’s plenty to do,” the talkative one said and smiled at me.
I smiled back and nodded. “And everything by hand.”
“We’re one of the few places that do.”
For some reason I just had to have me some antipasto salad and now I do. I used my free Senior Citizen Port Authority bus pass and got off at the dollar store across the avenue from my apartment building and picked up a liter of Pepsi and a loaf of Italian bread. (I didn’t want to carry the bread on the bus when I was going to be getting the Pepsi at the dollar store.) Now I’m set for two days. I’ll do more shopping in a couple of more days.
A writer’s got to eat!
I’ll be damned if I didn’t sleep through the Pirates home opener yesterday afternoon. Yesterday, I had a beer at Armand’s and a bag of peanuts and then I bought a six-pack of beer to go.
I got home and stretched out on the sofa with two fat pillows under my weary head as I sipped beer and read my library book on Frederick The Great. The radio was on. For some reason I thought it was going to be an evening game. The next thing I knew the post game show was on. It was an afternoon game. Oh well, that won’t happen again until I get more fun money later this month.
Being the editor/publisher of Pittsburgh’s premiere magazine of erotica is not as glamorous as you may think it is.
This is the Old Soldier reporting for the Pittsburgh Flash Fiction Gazette.