(Written on 4/29/2019)

“What’s a tortilla?” Perry asks.

“What kind of question is that?” I shoot back.

“I’ve never heard of it, is it a vegetable or something?”

Before I can respond, the floor underneath our table collapses. I flail my arms but can’t hold onto anything as I fall to the first floor of the Mexican restaurant. I land squarely on my rump and roll backwards as the breath is knocked out of me. The rubble settles quickly into silence before I hear commotion from the counter which holds the register. I sit up and hear Perry moaning.

“I think I broke something.”

Not feeling too hurt, I crawl around the broken table and now fully understand the commotion. A narrow, iron candle holder is jutting through the top of his belly and a small puddle of blood is forming from the opening. The teenage girl who had been our server runs over and starts pulling at her hair.

“Call 911!” I bark at her.

She pulls out her phone and begins to do so just as “What’s New Pussycat?” comes on the jukebox, lightly playing from a ceiling speaker. Not what I’d want to die to.

“Jarv,” Perry says weakly.


“What… is a tortilla?”

“Oh, Perry,” I say before I pause to hold tears back. “It’s a round, thin flatbread made from wheat or corn.”

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