A Snap of the Fingers

With his hands firmly planted on his hips and wearing a sneer that would make Elvis envious, Jim the Mighty scoffs at Minotaur, the beast who would rule the world. Minotaur thrusts his two coconut-sized fists toward the heavens and bellows, “I will destroy you, puny human!” He lowers his massive head and glares at Jim the Mighty with eyes that burn like two hot coals, steam blowing out his nostrils.

While casually examining his fingernails, Jim the Mighty chuckles, “You don’t scare me, you old cow.”

A fully enraged Minotaur bellows again and paws the ground instinctively—his massive black shiny horns point threateningly toward Jim.  Suddenly, Minotaur charges. Unperturbed,  Jim waits until the last second to snap his fingers, “Be gone, you fool.” His hair and cape are blown back by the passing energy that was once Minotaur. The crowd of people, news reports, and camera crew all burst into cheers and applause. Jim clasps his hands over his head and smiles broadly.

Jim’s eyes fly open as the cheering crowd changes into his alarm clock radio. Reaching over, he fumbles around until he finds the off switch.  Yawning and grinding the heels of his hands into his eyes, he sits on the edge of his bed. Slowly, the fog starts to lift. Yawning once more, he closes his burning eyes and, in doing so, sees the image of himself holding his clasped hands over his head.  “What the hell? I’ve had the same dream every night for the past three nights. It’s so bazaar!”

Jim smacks his lips a few times while scratching his side.  He begins to feel itchy all over and, like some crazy cartoon character, starts scratching everywhere at once. He jumps up and races to the bathroom to start his day.

Walking down the street to his favorite breakfast café, Jim is running through a list of things he would like to eat when he hears a familiar voice call out.

“Good morning!”

It’s Kimmy from work. She has a huge crush on Jim, and ever since discovering where he has breakfast, she has shown up every morning right on time. Jim is totally unaware of Kimmy’s feelings, though he does like her as a friend.

Stepping inside the “Cup of Joe,” Jim turns to Kimmy,  “Why don’t you find us a booth while I use the ATM.”

“Sure thing!” she beams brightly. Kimmy practically floats down the aisle, thinking about sharing a romantic booth with a man she likes.

She’s cute. Kimmy is small in stature and height, about ninety-nine pounds, and stands five-one. She wears oversized round glasses on her freckled nose that she continuously pushes up. Her eyes are a sparking hazel, and she wears her shiny chestnut hair in a ponytail. All of which is lost on Jim.

Jim, on the other hand, stands six foot two. He has thin blonde hair and blue eyes. He’s no Brad Pitt, but Kimmy finds him attractive.

Kimmy sits at the booth’s edge, facing how Jim will approach. When she sees him, Kimmy starts waving her hand slightly too enthusiastically to indicate where they are sitting. Jim smiles, thinking Kimmy looks like a little girl out having breakfast with her daddy. Of course, Kimmy would die if she knew what Jim was thinking.

The Cup of Joe is your usual café. The air is full of the aroma of bacon, sausages, and toast.  There is the typical long counter with swivel stools on one side and booths with windows that view the street on the other. The wooden booths have benches with vinyl cushions that woosh air when you sit down on them. At the end of the table is a coin-operated record machine where you select a song for a quarter.

Jim slips into the booth as Kimmy scooches to the middle to sit opposite him.

“How are you today, Kimmy? Ready for work? 

“I will be after my morning coffee,” she grins, pushing her glasses up her nose.

Kimmy is a programmer at a distribution center, and Jim is a salesman there.

Stifling a yawn with the back of his hand, Jim gets out a nearly comprehensible “Good, good.”

Her eyebrows knitted together with concern, she leans forward. “What’s the matter? Didn’t you sleep well last night?”

Jim shakes his head. “Nah. I was too busy saving the world.”

Scrunching up her face, Kimmy echoes, “Saving the -world?” Jim chuckles.

“You see, for the past three nights, I have had a dream in which I am fighting someone trying to take over the world! I’m apparently a superhero with a variety of powers at my disposal. Last night, I defeated a minotaur with a snap of my fingers!”

Kimmy leans her elbow on the table and rests her chin on her two-balled fist. “Can you fly?  You know, like Superman?” “Oh, sure!” as Jim continues to talk, Kimmy can’t help but start daydreaming about him in a silk jumpsuit with a cape flowing out behind him. She sees him flying through the air with his hands stretched before him, his broad shoulders and muscular chest outlined by the clinging fabric. The jumpsuit continues down to his slender waist and then further to reveal his ... Kimmy inhales sharply at the thought and bites her bottom lip.

“Are you alright?” Jim asks.  “ You look a little flushed.”

Kimmy stares intently at the table and pushes her glasses up her bright red, freckled nose.

“N-No, no, I’m fine!” she sputters. “I think I’m ready to order now. Waitress!”

Wearing orthopedic shoes, the waitress, a survivor of a million customers, glances down to booth eight and sees a panicky young girl flagging her frantically. “Yeah, yeah. I see ya.  Just give me a minute.” She finishes refilling a gentleman’s cup with coffee. Wearing a gray uniform and a white apron around her waist, she shuffles down to their booth. She then reaches up and takes a pencil from her hair bun, licks the tip, and removes the order pad from her apron.  In a flat voice, she asks, “What will it be?”

Kimmy orders first. “I’d like a Chi tea, please.” Without looking up, the waitress asks in the same disinterested tone,  “That it?” When Kimmy answers yes, she turns to Jim. “What about you, handsome?”

Jim smirks, “I’ll have a regular coffee, two creams, three sugars, and perhaps one of those cinnamon rolls with the frosting on top?”

“You got it. By the way, the creamer and sugar are already on the table, kiddo. Your order will be ready in just a minute.” 

She quickly returns and hands them their order, bidding them to “Enjoy” while not caring one way or the other.

 Kimmy sips her tea while watching Jim eat his roll.

“Would you care to try a bite?” he asks.    

“Oh, no thanks, but I was just wondering, what do you think is the cause of your dreams? When you were a kid, did you like comic books about Superman or Captain America?”

 Jim replies around a cheek full of the cinnamon roll, “No, not really.” He washes it down with a big gulp of coffee before he continues. “I was more of a World War II fan. You know, Sgt Rock and machine guns that went Rat-a-tat-tat. Things like that.”  Pushing her glasses up her nose, Kimmy takes another sip of tea and ponders momentarily. “Hmm. And you say some of your superpowers are kind of silly?”

The waitress returns to top off Jim’s coffee and leaves the check. “Whenever you’re ready,” she drones.

Jim nods before returning to Kimmy. “It’s not silly so much as just plain odd. In last night’s dream, for instance, I defeated a minotaur with a snap of my fingers. I know it was just a dream, but still, why not lasers shooting from my eyes?   Don’t get me wrong, if I could make things disappear just by snapping my fingers (Jim snaps his fingers, and the check disappears), I’d love that, but it’s still not as cool as laser beam eyes, right?”

The waitress stops dead in her tracks. Narrowing her eyes and tightening her lips, she thinks, “Did he just snap his fingers at me? How rude!” She returns to the table with folded arms. “Yeah?” 

Confused, Jim looks at the waitress, then Kimmy, and back toward the waitress again. “I beg your pardon?”

 “Was there anything else you wanted?”

“No. Not really, but so long as you’re here, I believe we are finished, so could we have our check, please?” Unfolding her arms, the waitress points to the table. “I already gave it to you.  It’s right here.” Her eyes widen when she sees it’s not there. “What the heck!?!  What did you do with it?”

“I didn’t do anything with it! I never even saw it!” Jim exclaims.

“Perhaps it fell on the floor,” adds Kimmy.   They both stand up, and the three of them start scouting around.

“It looks like I’ll need to write you another check.  It’s so odd, though.”

Jim places fifteen dollars on the table. “No need, we are running late for work. That should cover the bill, and you can keep the change.”

As she watches them walk away, she does the math in her head, saying out loud, “A twenty-nine cent tip. “Geez. Thanks, Mr. Rockefeller!”

Once outside, Jim hitches up his pants and buttons his jacket. They cross the street to a small park with a statue of a Civil War general atop his horse, all covered with pigeons.

“You know what I think, Jim. I think it would be kind of fun to be able to snap my fingers and make all my work go away.” Kimmy snaps her fingers.

 “Yeah, I guess it would,” Jim says, snapping his own fingers.

A person falls off the park bench they are sitting on and runs like hell after seeing the statue disappear in a cloud of feathers.

“Well, we’re here. Thank God it’s Friday, uh?” quips Jim.  

 Timidly, Kimmy asks, “Do you have any plans for the weekend, Jim?’

“Not really. I thought I’d get some beer and snacks and watch the football game on Saturday afternoon. Glancing to the side, Kimmy says, “That sounds fun.”

Jim smiles brightly. “Yeah? If you think so, how would you like to come to my place and watch the game with me?”

Kimmy eyes shine with delight. Pushing her glasses up, she beams, That sounds great!”

Jim takes a business card from his wallet and turns it over. “Here’s my address and phone number in case you can’t make it for some reason.” He hands her the card. When he turns to leave, Kimmy presses the card to her chest and closes her eyes. She smiles so hard it almost hurts.

Jim throws his hand into the air and snaps his fingers. “See you Saturday!”