vegetable oil.
But she made it to the building unscathed, and walked the
three flights of stairs to the apartment in question. Taking a deep breath, she
knocked on the door. After a moment of furious scurrying about inside the
apartment, the knob turned and the door shot open a crack. An unassuming man
with a three-day beard and tufts of brown hair sticking out from his scalp at
various angles peered out at her. He didn’t look much like the pictures of Gary
Rosenfeld she had seen online.
“How much?” the man asked anxiously.
“Huh?” replied Suzy.
“Come on, come on,” said the man. “For the
butter. How much?”
“I don’t… it’s margarine,” Suzy
managed to bluster after a moment.
The man made a sort of retching sound and slammed the door.
Suzy stood in the hallway staring at the plastic tub in her hand. After a
moment, she raised her hand to knock again.
The door flew open and a fist shot out.
“I’m not…” she started again.
“Take it or leave it,” said the man’s voice from inside,
wagging his fist at her. She held out her palm and the man dropped a fistful of
change into it. It was mostly nickels.
“I’m not selling the margarine,” she said. “I—”
“Free samples?” said the man.
“What?”
“Are you giving out free samples then?”
“I wasn’t planning to…”
“Oh, I see!” shouted the man in sudden consternation. “Going around the neighborhood waving margarine in front of
people’s faces and then not even giving out samples. You’re a margarine
tease, that’s what you are.”
“It’s just that…”
“Margarine tease!” the man screamed. “Margarine tease !”
Down the hall a door opened a crack and an old woman yelled
back, “What’s all the racket down there?”
“Margarine tease!” shrieked the man again.
“All right, all right, you can have as much as you want!”
said Suzy. “Just quiet down!”
“Gimme my change back.”
She handed him back the nickels and the door slammed again.
“Keep it down!” shouted the woman down the hall.
Suzy was just about to raise her hand to knock again when
the door flew open once more. The fist shot out again, this time holding a
butter knife. “Sample!” cried the man.
Suzy sighed and removed the lid. “I’m really not here to
give out margarine samples,” she said, as the man dug into the stuff with the
knife. He pulled the knife back inside.
“Oh?” said the man, “then why did you bring it?”
“Well,” replied Suzy, uncertainly, “there’s something in
it.”
There was a spitting sound, followed by chunks of something
that looked like half chewed bread flying through the crack in the door.
“Gyeeychhhh,” groaned the man. “What do you mean? What’s in
it?”
“Are you giving away margarine samples down there?” shouted
the woman down the hall.
“Yes, but it’s got something in it!” shouted the man.
“What? Like jam?” asked the woman.
“Is it jam?” asked the man.
“No, it’s… I’d rather not say. I’m looking for Gary—”
“It’s not jam!” shouted the man.
“Is it sprinkles?” shouted the woman.
“Is it — ”
“Please!” cried Suzy. “Stop
yelling! I’m not here to give out samples!”
“Margarine tease!” shouted the woman.
“Margarine tease!” shouted the man.
“Margarine tease!” shouted the woman.
Soon they were chanting in unison. Halfway down the hall
another door opened and a small Filipino woman stepped out in the hall. She seemed
momentarily confused, but shortly was overcome by the spirit of the occasion. “Mar-jar-een-tees! Mar-jar-een-tees!” she shouted, and began
to clap her hands. Two other residents opened their doors and joined in as
well.
Suzy began to think she had made a terrible mistake. She put
the lid on the tub, slipped it into her purse, and began to trudge back down
the hall toward the stairs, the deafening chant ringing in her ears. As she
opened the door to the stairwell, the chant broke
But she made it to the building unscathed, and walked the
three flights of stairs to the apartment in question. Taking a deep breath, she
knocked on the door. After a moment of furious scurrying about inside the
apartment, the knob turned and the door shot open a crack. An unassuming man
with a three-day beard and tufts of brown hair sticking out from his scalp at
various angles peered out at her. He didn’t look much like the pictures of Gary
Rosenfeld she had seen online.
“How much?” the man asked anxiously.
“Huh?” replied Suzy.
“Come on, come on,” said the man. “For the
butter. How much?”
“I don’t… it’s margarine,” Suzy
managed to bluster after a moment.
The man made a sort of retching sound and slammed the door.
Suzy stood in the hallway staring at the plastic tub in her hand. After a
moment, she raised her hand to knock again.
The door flew open and a fist shot out.
“I’m not…” she started again.
“Take it or leave it,” said the man’s voice from inside,
wagging his fist at her. She held out her palm and the man dropped a fistful of
change into it. It was mostly nickels.
“I’m not selling the margarine,” she said. “I—”
“Free samples?” said the man.
“What?”
“Are you giving out free samples then?”
“I wasn’t planning to…”
“Oh, I see!” shouted the man in sudden consternation. “Going around the neighborhood waving margarine in front of
people’s faces and then not even giving out samples. You’re a margarine
tease, that’s what you are.”
“It’s just that…”
“Margarine tease!” the man screamed. “Margarine tease !”
Down the hall a door opened a crack and an old woman yelled
back, “What’s all the racket down there?”
“Margarine tease!” shrieked the man again.
“All right, all right, you can have as much as you want!”
said Suzy. “Just quiet down!”
“Gimme my change back.”
She handed him back the nickels and the door slammed again.
“Keep it down!” shouted the woman down the hall.
Suzy was just about to raise her hand to knock again when
the door flew open once more. The fist shot out again, this time holding a
butter knife. “Sample!” cried the man.
Suzy sighed and removed the lid. “I’m really not here to
give out margarine samples,” she said, as the man dug into the stuff with the
knife. He pulled the knife back inside.
“Oh?” said the man, “then why did you bring it?”
“Well,” replied Suzy, uncertainly, “there’s something in
it.”
There was a spitting sound, followed by chunks of something
that looked like half chewed bread flying through the crack in the door.
“Gyeeychhhh,” groaned the man. “What do you mean? What’s in
it?”
“Are you giving away margarine samples down there?” shouted
the woman down the hall.
“Yes, but it’s got something in it!” shouted the man.
“What? Like jam?” asked the woman.
“Is it jam?” asked the man.
“No, it’s… I’d rather not say. I’m looking for Gary—”
“It’s not jam!” shouted the man.
“Is it sprinkles?” shouted the woman.
“Is it — ”
“Please!” cried Suzy. “Stop
yelling! I’m not here to give out samples!”
“Margarine tease!” shouted the woman.
“Margarine tease!” shouted the man.
“Margarine tease!” shouted the woman.
Soon they were chanting in unison. Halfway down the hall
another door opened and a small Filipino woman stepped out in the hall. She seemed
momentarily confused, but shortly was overcome by the spirit of the occasion. “Mar-jar-een-tees! Mar-jar-een-tees!” she shouted, and began
to clap her hands. Two other residents opened their doors and joined in as
well.
Suzy began to think she had made a terrible mistake. She put
the lid on the tub, slipped it into her purse, and began to trudge back down
the hall toward the stairs, the deafening chant ringing in her ears. As she
opened the door to the stairwell, the chant broke
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