When I looked up, I saw that I was at the last subway stop on the 6 train. Originally, I was going get off on the Spring Street stop but I was so engrossed with Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, I ended up being in the Bronx.
“Hey”
I look up. The subway car is empty. I was extremely grumpy but was in better spirits because of the misadventures of that silly Harry Potter, Hermione, and the freckled Ron. My grumpiness derived from the nature of my clothes — drenched. I had just come from my apratment in Brooklyn (Williamsburg, more specifically) and was locked out. I decided to go back to the Spring Street Starbucks (where I work) and change into work clothes. I would smell like coffee but at least I would be dry.
The platypus called my name.
“Sharon”
I look up and down the subway. Nope, it’s only the platypus.
“Yeah?”
“I’m a platypus” said the platypus.
“Duckbill, right?”
“Yeah”
“Good for you” I replied tiredly. What am I supposed to say?
The platypus lights up a cigarette. I don’t know where he got his cigarette or where his cigarette pack was stored (in his bill? under his furry armpits?) Further, I’m pretty sure that nobody can smoke on the subway. But I could be wrong.
“Doesn’t it seem strange that I’m talking to you on the subway?” he puffs out some smoke. I wonder if his bill allows him to do smoke rings.
“No.” I sigh. “I’m too tired and this is New York.”
The platypus shook its (his? hers? I just assumed it was a male) head. “Jaded. That’s too bad.”
“Yeah, well what are you going to do?”
The platypus shrugged and put out his cigarette on the window behind him. I noticed he only smoked half of it. If he offered, I would’ve smoked the other half.
“Would you like to have coffee or something?” inquired the creature.
“Yeah” I had nothing better to do, “Why not?”
Subsequently, we get off at the Spring Street stop and walked towards the Greenwich area.
The platypus told me that is was visiting New York from the Wilmington are. It/He was bored. He indicated that all he ever did (He later revealed his name was Bobo…but Bo for short) was hang out by the river and eat fish.
We get to the coffee shop on 14th street. He orders an Orange Mocha Chip Frappuccino and I order a bottled water. I was trying to increase my H20 intake for better skin.
We talk all night about our respective lives: my fears of being an overall unattractive human, of being untalented and poor, of being in a dead-end desk job. He talks about his fear of being eaten, not being able to eat, and being unclassified as a mammal because his kind lays eggs…unlike any mammal in his class. Recently, he revealed, he feared being stepped on by some surly New Yorker (or New Jersey-ean as it seems all New Jersey-eans migrate to New York to feel cool). He also hated red ants. They bite him sometimes.
Then I realize, through our intriguing conversation, a realization I have never had before.
I am falling in love with Bo the Platypus.
However, I remember that he is a platypus.
At 3 a.m., Bo is tired and has to lick his fur early in the morning. I also remember that my roommates might be home by now and that Bo had taken my thoughts off of my once-drenched clothes.
We bid adieu.
My heart, once again, is broken.
I go down to an open pub and order a Key Lime Pie to drown out my melancholy and remember the good times I had with Bo. The Key Lime Pie slightly rectifies the pain but, unfortuantely, I know I will be scarred forever.
Oh well.
The Platypus and Key Lime Pie
Minimal Effort 