FUN WITH MUFFY

I'm at the deli counter after work yesterday. All I needed was some sliced turkey. I tell the nice girl behind the counter what I would like. In the mean time a woman comes up and stands next to me. No, not next to me, but nexttome. She does not look at me, but I'm looking at her wondering WTF?


Growing impatient because she can't order, the woman turns around and starts talking with the butcher behind us at the meat counter. From their conversation I learn she is a summer resident here.

I turned to get a really good look at her. She is the epitome of what my Nana Wheezie in her Finnish accent used to call a "rich bitch". You know the type: old money, born into it, speaks with that phony John Kerry/Hahvahd accent. She's in her 60's, straw-textured, striped bleach-blond blunt cut hair held back with a headband, leather skinned face with no makeup, pink Polo shirt with the COLLAR TURNED UP and a navy blue sweater tied in a knot over her shoulders. She has on khaki cropped pants and a pair of Docksiders. She's the star of When Preppies Get Old.

The only time a popped collar is acceptable

"Muffy" (Thanks, Mr. Man), is still thisclose to me while yakking to the butcher. My turkey is now being weighed and wrapped by the nice deli girl and Muffy turns back to the deli counter thinking it's her turn. But I have other plans for the Muffster. The nice deli girl asks me if there will be anything else.

"Hmmmm", I say, index finger to chin in deep thought. I can feel Muffy's eyes boring a hole through my skull. "Do you have any Boar's Head brand ham?"


"Yes, we do. What kind would you like?"

"What kind do you have?"

She proceeds to name the seven different kinds of ham that I am all too familiar with after visiting this store at least once a week for the past eight years. Muffy turns back to the butcher and says, with a heavy sigh and her clenched jaw Olde English accent, "I am just trying to get a little bit of cheeeeeeeeeze from the deli". Poor baby.

After I select the ham I want, I turn and smile at Muffy. She is glaring back at me. She rolls her eyes and turns her back to me to talk to the butcher again.

I hear her ask, "What news did I miss over the winter here in the village?"

The village? Quasimodo lives in a village. Jack from bean stalk fame went to the village to sell a cow. So now I live in a village?

I get my ham and the nice deli girl asks again if there is anything else I would like.

"Cheeeeze", I reply. "Cheeeeze would be really nice with all that hahm and turkey. Do you have any provolone cheese?"

This is way too much fun.

Muffy then puts both arms up on the very high deli counter to lean on in her most dramatic oh-woe-is-me-I-have-no cheese pose with her head hung down, shaking it back and forth. Oh, the agony!

The girl asks me one more time if there is anything else I would like. We both look at Muffy the drama queen. We both smile. It kills me, but I know I don't have enough money in my wallet to keep this up so I thank her for her help and move over to the meat department to get some hamburger.

As I am walking back to my car, Muffy and her husband (who was invisible this whole time) are getting into their BMW convertible with the Connecticut plates to go back to their summer home by the sea to enjoy some deli cheeeeeeze and whine.

I got into my 9 year-old mini-SUV-wannabe with the seagull crap on the left window and the broken antenna tied to the roof racks and drove back to my hovel in the village, armed with enough deli meat and cheese to feed my fellow villagers for a month. Ham and turkey sandwiches anyone?