Our New Idiot
By Melissa Delbridge
Our old village idiot worked at the City Café. Hardy bussed tables and swept up, and if you left a quarter and a nickel with your tip, he’d cut his eyes back over his shoulder with stealth enough for any respectable jewel thief, pop the quarter into the ashtray for the waitress, and slip that nickel into his pocket. Never failed. We’d elbow one another at the register. Watch this fool. Did it for years.
Finally I just had to ask. He was slinging his leg over his bike after the lunch shift, his pocket bulging and jingling. “C’mon, Hardy,” I said. “You know that quarter is worth five times the nickel and you know we all watch. Why do you just take the nickel?”
Hardy shrugged and patted his pocket. “If I ever take the quarter, even just one time, you’ll all quit doing it.” He pedaled off and left me standing.
So now we have to find a new idiot. Shouldn’t be much of a problem. Plenty of qualified candidates.
I found this non-fiction short story amusing because of its use of irony. The fool is the only one who is not a fool. Time to find a new fool. lol
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