Sigmund Freud walked
into Tim Horton’s. He took
off his hat. He looked around the restaurant. He had never seen such a place,
with such strange signs and bright lights. He looked at the other customers.
The customers looked at him. Most of them thought he was an actor on a lunch break
from a film shoot. But he wasn’t an actor. He was the real deal. Sigmund Freud.
He took his pocket watch out of his vest and
checked the time. It was getting late and he soon had to get back to the
office. Finally it was his turn to be served.
The server wore tight pants. He had slicked back
hair and long sideburns. His name tag read “Elvis.” Instead of asking Freud for
his order, Elvis greeted him with the words of a song: “Well since my baby left
me, I found a new place to dwell. It’s down at the end of lonely street, it’s heartbreak
hotel.”
Before Elvis could continue, Freud held up his
hand and stopped him. “Please do not tell me ze problems zat you haf,” said
Freud. “I am not verking now. I am on a break.”
Elvis, looking puzzled, asked Freud what he
would like to order.
“I vud like Viennese coffee mit lots of cream,”
said Freud.
“We don’t have that,” said Elvis. “We have
regular coffee, dark roast, and all the other drinks listed on the sign behind
me.”
“Zis is no good,” said Freud. “I must haf my
Viennese coffee.”
“I’m sorry, sir, we don’t carry that. How about
a double double?”
“No! No!” said Freud emphatically. “Double
double just von’t do. Goodbye to you.”
Freud abruptly left. The other customers stared
at him with puzzled expressions.
After leaving the restaurant Freud stood on the
sidewalk, wondering where to go for his Viennese coffee. Tim Horton showed up.
“Are you who I think you are?” asked Tim.
“Yah, probably,” replied Freud. “And who might
you be?”
“You don’t know? I’m Tim Horton, the founder of
this restaurant.”
“Vell, since you are ze boss, I haf a
complaint,” said Freud. “Vy don’t you serve Viennese coffee?”
“What a great idea!” said Tim Horton. “Why don’t
I ask my people if we could develop that as our newest product? Maybe you could
appear in a television ad, saying that our new Viennese coffee is Freud approved!”
“I do not
know vat iz television and mine answer is absolutely no. If I cannot find my
Viennese coffee I vill go back to mine office. Goodbye to you.”
“Too bad, I thought we could do business
together.”
Freud turned his back and walked away, shaking
his head while muttering to himself under his breath. “Zis man is disturbed, and he needs help. Maybe
ze double double portion.”
And meanwhile, back in the restaurant, Elvis
continued to greet his customers with the words of a song.
Addendum:
Any resemblance to actual persons, living or, especially, dead, is purely
coincidental.
Barry Rosen was
a social worker for many years but is now retired. He has loved words, stories
and books almost since birth, and currently spends much of his time at Tim
Horton’s, trying to figure out how to spend his time.
See Brian Henry’s current schedule here, including writing workshops and creative writing courses in Algonquin Park, Bolton, Barrie, Brampton, Burlington, Caledon, Georgetown, Guelph, Hamilton, Ingersoll, Kingston, Kitchener, London, Midland, Mississauga, Oakville, Ottawa, Peterborough, St. Catharines, Saint John, NB, Sudbury, Thessalon, Toronto, Windsor, Woodstock, Halton, Kitchener-Waterloo, Muskoka, Peel, Simcoe, York Region, the GTA, Ontario and beyond.
Sweet Story...yay for you Barry...a new career awaits...pearlD.
ReplyDeleteBrilliant! You are right - this will be a fine story to tell at Circle.
ReplyDeleteBarry, I love this story. I laughed quietly, within, while reading it. There is something very charming in subjecting famous figures to an historical transplant. I like your writing style. Clear and clean.
ReplyDeleteBarry, are you the same guy from Lime Bay? Robin Siegel (Star)
ReplyDelete