mastication blues

It had been so long since Hamilton had had a date that the libido that once controlled his life had shriveled up and drifted to the soft flesh under his arm becoming a mole in the shape of a trumpet. He can't remember when all his shoes became slip on or all his pants elastic waisted. He just remembers the night he spent $200 on dinner and drinks for the "sure thing" only for her to get drunk and grope the crotch of a college boy who ended up taking her home. On the cold walk home, in stiff loafers and thin socks, he swore to his heart he would never subject it to that pain again. It was at this moment his libido took the cue and seperated from his id, beginning it's withered migration toward his armpit.

Hamilton's one room studio reflected his personal commitment to hygenie.

"Mother of God," said Hamilton looking at the pile of dishes in the sink. He opened the fridge only to find a smattering of condiments in the door and on the top shelf, a box of arm and hammer.

Pulling on sweatpants over frayed boxer briefs, Hamilton looked in his wallet. "Enough for a burrito," he said with a clip, and left the studio for the street below.

"Beautiful," he said as he exited his apartment building, watching a squatting great dane shed an enormous glistening dump. Hamilton closed one eye and gave the dog a thumbs up. "Nice."

Hamilton shook his head as the person holding the dog's leash continued to talk on the phone. "Real nice,"

Hamilton pulled open the door of the corner burrito joint. "One please," he informed the Mexican women who was in the middle of taking the order from three men in cheap suits with name placards pinned to their blazer lapels. She looked up and pointed to the patio.

Hamilton took a seat outside next to the low iron fence that was a few feet away from on coming traffic. He looked at the menu then opened up his wallet again.

"One bean and rice burrito please,"

"Smothered?," asked the waitress.

Again he looked in his wallet and did a quick calculation "Yes,"

"Red o Green chile?"

"Which is hotter?" He asked.

"The Green," she said.

"Than I would like the red."

The patio began to fill up as Hamilton waited for his burrito. He conversed with himself about the dog incident shaking his head, mouthing his disgust silently.

The oncoming traffic would stop at the light and people would look over momentarily at the diners and then drive on when the light turned green.

The burrito arrived and Hamilton shoveled a bite in his mouth. The bite was hot so Hamilton opened his mouth wide between chews. He blew on the next bite before putting it in his mouth. He chewed loudly pushing the food past his teeth with his tongue. The masticated food made brief appearances to the public as he opened and closed his mouth. After a few bites he picked up the conversation about the shitting dog where he left off. Chewing and pushing the food past his teeth he continued talking to himself shaking his head.

A line of cars stopped at the stop light. While Freddie was sitting in his car waiting for the light to turn he looked over and saw Hamilton chewing with his mouth open, the burrito all but falling from his mouth back to the plate.

As the light turned green Freddie shouted, "Man chew wif yo fuckin' mouf closed, damn!" As he drove off he was heard saying "nasty ass mufucka'".

Hamilton looked around to see who this loudmouth was talking about.