Apple Pie and Coffee

A man in his late forties - quite unremarkable in appearance - pressed on the tempered glass, double doors of a bustling Chicago diner and as he did, was surprised to find that one of the doors in the pair did not open in the direction he wished it to move. Therefore, by this method of trial and error he entered, walked practically unnoticed to the counter and found solace in a stool which he gravitated to, more then likely because it offered seclusion at the end of the long counter in which he chose to sit.

Eyeing a city newspaper that had been left on the counter by a previous patron of the restaurant, he gathered up its many pages and began leafing through it - not so much for the knowledge therein, but more so for the privacy it offered him, behind the contents of its tall, black and white sheets which conveniently hid him from the rest of the clientele.

Suddenly noticing this newly arrived customer, a waitress - both physically fit from the exercise demanded by her position and youthful in demeanor - strode subtly toward this odd man and quaintly asked, in terms both endearing and plainly understandable, what it was he’d like to eat, or so it would seem, to most casual observers...
“What’ll it be mack?” she remarked, in a way people living in that large, busy city had heard many times before. And this curious, shy fellow answered by remarking, “uhhh... apple pie and coffee,” accompanied by a most puzzled expression on his ageing, weathered face.

“Com’in up,” she replied, and in turning to walk away, she inadvertently left him alone to his own devices - as he had been upon his arrival - and once again, opened the newspaper which only moments before had successfully shielded him from any innocent onlooker who may have glanced in his direction.

Only a few brief minutes had passed on the clock which hung fast to one of the restaurant walls before his ebullient server came back - pie and coffee in hand - and set them down before him in a most expedient manner. “That all ya want?” she followed up with, as anyone would have expected. But when all that was served up to her was a glance accompanied by a smile, she reiterated the question by probing yet further and asking, “is that it?” Upon having received no reply to her simple enquiry, she gave up on her customer, shook her head in displeasure, slammed a check on the counter and walked with meaning to some of the other, presumably hungrier patrons in her domain.

Just as he was finishing eating the generous portion of apple pie, a stranger sat down in the seat next to him, and noticing the newspaper laying between them on the counter, he nonchalantly asked, “hey buddy, you done with that paper?” But strangely enough, all that he received in response to his question was a brief smile and the warm but dissociated reply, “apple pie and coffee.”
“Huh?” replied the man, and wondering if he’d been heard, asked again, “the paper bud... ya done with it?” But again, just as plainly as the first time, the only response was, “apple pie and coffee.”
Now angry, feeling that he may possibly be the brunt of some bad joke, the newly arrived customer simply took what he felt was his for the taking, and with a triumphant stare directed at its former owner, gathered up the pages of the newspaper in his hand and began in earnest to read, hardly taking notice that the man he’d been at odds with over it was now getting ready to leave the diner, just as quietly as he’d come in.

Leaving the protection of his paper shield behind, this fellow of so few words, dressed neatly in a plain black suit with white shirt, found himself staring at a sign above one of the city’s many underground train entrances. Having resolved himself to the fact that the large white letters of the sign which read; WASHINGTON AVE meant next to nothing to him, he began the long trip down the concrete stairway and continued to walk until he’d reached the end of his journey, which seemed to be for the time being, the platform of the Washington avenue train stop.

Standing in awe at what so many had taken for granted for so long, it didn’t take much time before someone - in fact, a young man in his early twenties - came along and without taking notice, bumped into the arm of the awestruck stranger. “Sorry dude,” he said, in response to what had happened. But when no reply came from the man he’d bumped into - other then a nervous smile and a look of apprehension - this same young man, wondering if something was wrong, said once more, even more plainly then before, “I’m sorry mister. I didn’t mean ta bump into you like that. You okay?” But all he got in return for his effort and good manners was the same mild, though shaky, “uhh, apple pie and coffee?” The only difference being that this time, the response sounded more like a question than a statement.

Walking away in wonder, this well meaning young man then ran up the long flight of stairs on his way up to the city’s surface, never to realize the mystery behind the man he’d bumped into, even as the pathways of their lives had collided, both literally and figuratively.

Watching the youth slowly disappear on his journey to the surface, the mild mannered explorer who seemed not to know much about anything, had only just turned his attention to an arriving train when suddenly, his focus was interrupted by a very loud, small group of people who were fast approaching him with microphones in hand, chattering constantly to a crowd of no real physical presence. And suddenly, with little warning, they were upon him...

“Hi there sir,” announced a very cheerful man with perfectly combed hair as he pressed a microphone nearly to his chest and politely introduced himself. “I’m Maurie Limburger from WSKUZ radio and you’re on the air! How would you like to say hello to everyone listening out there in radioland?”
But as anyone may have guessed, the only greeting this man could muster was a very cautious smile, accompanied by one very lonely, nervous twitch.
“Shy huh?” asked the radio announcer. “Well don’t be friend. Now is not the time to be shy, isn’t that right Boomer?” he said, drawing attention to another young man included in his entourage of radio co-hosts and sound engineers.
“That’s right Maurie!” exclaimed Boomer. “It sure ain’t. Not with a million dollar question at stake. It sure ain’t.”
“Tell you what mister,” continued the announcer. “It just so happens I’ve got a check here made out to cash for a grand total of o-n-e m-i-l-l-i-o-n dollars! Now how’s that? That’s a lotta payola isn’t it? And all you’ve gotta do is answer one little question. How about that? Are you up to the challenge?” But again, as one may have expected, the only reply came in the guise of yet another, even more briefly displayed smile.
“Still shy huh?” remarked the announcer. “Maybe this’ll liven things up?” he added. “Okay... are ya ready now? Here we go then... Name two of the most common things served up on dinner tables all over America, and this big fat check is yours buddy. Ready?! Go for it!” And like so many times before, the only thing this man could say was, “apple pie and coffee.” But this time, luck had taken an extreme turn, and as the unsuspecting stranger muttered each timid word, they discharged like stones cast to a still water pond, creating ripples of excitement and energy that were not only unexpected, but seemed never even to have existed until now.

“Oh my God!!” shouted the announcer, after regaining his composure well enough to speak. “That’s it! That’s what we’ve been waiting to hear for the past six months! He did it! Mister, you won! The check is yours!” shouted the radio announcer. “Marty! Where’s Marty?” he continued, as a photographer in the group made his way to the center of the growing crowd of people around the grand prize winner. “Marty, get my good side this time, will ya?” he added, as the photographer began snapping picture after picture of the man posing with the radio show host, check in hand, smiling from ear to ear.
“You’re a brand new millionaire buddy, and I don’t even know your name,” stated the announcer to the crowd that had gathered, and to the tens of thousands of people who were listening over the radio. “Isn’t there anything you’d like to say? C’mon mister, don’t be shy. You’re a rich man now. What’s it feel like?”

“Ahh... apple pie and coffee?”

“Psst, hey Maurie,” whispered Boomer. “Yer not gonna get anywhere with this guy. Can’t ya see, he’s another new immigrant from Slowveckia. Thousands of ‘em are com’in in every week.”

“You know I bet your right,” replied the announcer, covering the microphone with his coat as he spoke. “But how in the world did he win all that money? I’m still in shock.”

“Lemme fill you in on something my dad told me when I was a kid... he said, ‘it don’t take brains ta make money.’ And what we got here is a prime example.”

“I wish someone would’a told me that before I signed a contract to work ten hour shifts,” answered Maurie. “Where’s my piece a the pie?”

“Tell me about it. That’s what everyone wants ta know.”