Hipsterville 2013

Day 39. The air is ripe in the streets today as I cross to the depanneur. Escaping from the odour I enter the doorway and the smell is gone, I purchase my packet of blue candy covered gum and my bottle of water. The man behind the cash is an aging, tired man. He is an older version of his tired son who usually works this shift, who usually sells me my provisions. "$3.75" the elderly version of my usual clerk suggests. Yes, suggests - almost a question - as if to catch my attention, break from the norm. It works, and I look up. He gives me a half wink and says "are you going to the bakery today?" This passes for twice as many words as I've heard anyone in this shop utter since first arriving to the neighborhood, so I pause. The man leans in slightly and says again, "are you going to the bakery today?" "Perhaps I shall" was my return volley.

 I round the corner, and cautiously enter Mr. Pinchot. The cumbersome opening of the screen door then pushing the heavy interior door inward while stepping up from ground level leaves me slightly off balance. And the relative dark of the shop on this a bright day leaves me momentarily blind.  When my eyes adjust they are met by a surprised face, it is the mousy young redhead with the suspect accent and the shaky hands. Her demeanour is usually one approximating surprise, but at this moment I seem to have walked in on something. II watch the David Simard look-a-like leaving the room. I order a brioche, and a cafe - regulier, avec du lait - an order it has taken me weeks to get correct. 

 Red turns to fill my order, spends 10 or 15 seconds fiddling with the coffee machine before she turns, holding an empty pot of coffee as she exclaims, “I must go to the back and get more coffee.” She departs in a furtive manner, walking slightly backwards feeling her way with her hands, she has a look of desperation as she turns and heads back to the interior of the shop. She is no sooner gone than I hear someone dumping coffee down a sink. I turn toward the opposite corner, back by the fridge I see the small but sturdy woman. She motions for me to come closer. I lean across the deli counter and she whispers, "votre couverture est soufflé, ouvrir l'enveloppe," and she recedes through the door located just behind her, just as red returns, coffee pot in hand. She pours my coffee. I pay and exit.

 Sitting upon the bench in front of the shop I take stock while feigning an interest in my morning meal. I finish what has become my breakfast and start nonchalantly walking towards home. As I round the corner I witness Red and David Simard escorting the the small but sturdy woman into a large black car.

 This excerpt has been brought to you by the good folks at thevelchek.com with their final video from their album.

The Vlcheks Up Against The Wall