Two old men sat on a bench at the park, one tall, balding with a pot belly and the other short, bearded and skinny. They both stared at the pond, the ducks floating on it and at the children playing on the jungle gym. From time to time they looked at each other and smiled. When someone parked his small foreign car in front of them, the skinny man tapped the fat man and pointed.
“Audi.”
“Howdy to you.” The big man took his hand and shook it with vigor. “Kinda hard to start up a conversation these days, ain’t it?”
The little man smiled, but wrinkled his brow and pointed to the car again. “Audi. Audi.”
“Well, ain’t you the friendly one. But you can’t speak Amurican, can you?”
He shook his head, keeping the smile on his face.
“No wonder you sat there so long and didn’t say nuthin’. I guess some folks make you scairt ‘cause you can’t speak Amurican, but I’m broad minded, buddy.” He pointed at himself. “Me Billy.” He pointed at the little man. “You?”
He pointed at the car and repeated, “Audi.”
“Bet you watched a bunch of westerns before you come over here and the only word you picked up was howdy. Ain’t that right?”
The little man nodded. “Oui. Audi.”
“Oh, we got us a outhouse right over there if you need to go.” He pointed to the restrooms on the other side of the parking lot. You gotta go wee wee?”
“Oui, oui.” He nodded and shook Billy’s hand again.
“You better get on over there then before you wet your pants.”
“J’aime Audi.”
“Jim, howdy to you too, but you better go to the outhouse and pee.”
He looked in the sky and shook his head. “Non il plieu.”
“I’m sorry, Jim, I thought you said you had to go pee. Gosh, it’s hard to talk to a foreigner.” Billy thought a moment. “Do you wanna go over there to the stand and get a sody pop? You know, sody pop?” He motioned like he was drinking from a bottle.
“Oui, oui.” He made the same motion. “Salut.”
“No, Jim, I don’t think they got salad.”
“Pinot, cabernet, champagne?”
“Champagne? Heck no, Jim. The cops’ll throw us in the hoosegow.”
“Non champagne?”
“No, Jim, not even a beer.”
“Quelle domage.”
“Yeah, you can do a lot damage with that there champagne. What I was talking about was a Coca Cola. You know, Coke?” Billy made shape of a Coca Cola bottle with his hands.
“Oui, oui!” The little man said with a twinkle in his eyes. “J’aime les femmes.”
“Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that. You said Jim’s a what?”
“J’aime les femmes.” He pointed at a woman sunbathing in the park.
Billy reached out and put the man’s arm down. “Oh, you better watch that, Jim. You go pointin’ at all the purty gals in the park, and the cops will get you.”
“Non femmes? Quelle domage. C’est la vie.”
“Well, Jim, it was right nice talkin’ to you. I gotta get on home to supper.” Billy shook the little man’s hand. “I hope I see you tomorrow. I’m here at this time just about every day.”
“Au revoir.”
“No, it ain’t a reservoir. It’s just a little old pond.”