The Underbite and The Belly

The Korean market near my house used to be run by a family with a squat, grumpy father & mother who don't speak English and their three sons. Its actually still owned by the family, but I only ever see the Mother and the youngest son behind the cash register now. The middle son has moved on to working at a car dealership in Queens. He used to have nice new speedy cars outside the market that he was OCD about washing. I think in that last few years of his tenure at the market I saw him washing no less than four different shiney new cars. The oldest son is currently in the pokey. I don't know what he did wrong, but the youngest son will only roll his eyes when I ask him about it. The oldest son never stopped yelling at the Puerto Ricans who would hang around. He himself had a much younger Puerto Rican girlfriend and a son by her and he never got tired of cussing her out. The father is a pretty grumpy one too. Actually, he and the oldest son could be twins separated by 20 years. He is probably at home cursing the cat, the door or whatever his little, squat underbite can get a fix on cursing. The youngest son and I talk turkey and he gives me discounts on flowers. I ought to buy more flowers.

Next door to the Korean market is a Puerto Rican restaurant that is in the middle of renovation. That place is run by two brothers, their wives and their daughters. When we used to be even more broke than we are now, we would go there for their $6 whole chicken. At first they gave me a fishy eye since all I bought was the chicken. But I have now been going there for 7 years and sometimes I sit around watching the Spanish television station even after I pay. The brothers ask me how my wife's belly is, but they don't say belly, they make an arc with their palm around their own stocky mid-sections. So they say "hey, where you been?" and then they say "how is your (arcing-palm-over-stomach action)?" One time they asked me if I played soccer. That got me all excited and I asked if they were going to be showing World Cup games. They just looked at me with a funny, kind of sympathetic expression and said they only watch baseball.

They started the escalator this morning right when I got off the train. No joke. The technician was just putting his stuff in his bag when I stepped out the sliding doors. I decided to ride up the escalator out of respect.