Ten, Not Three
by Carol Wolrich
"Not diez minutos! Ten minutes is far too
long!" The pink-faced inglés protests.
"I like a dippy egg. Tres minutos, por favor,
senor. That's three, not ten, need I say it
again, ever so s-1-o-w-l-y?"
His wife looks away, gazing at the morning sea.
Breakfast is a pain, even in a foreign country.
She'd happily settle for a quiet cup of tea,
alone on the balcony, with the sound of the
surf for company.
After an age, the waiter returns; his smile as wide
as manana: "I have... how you say... won mucho dosho
on el Lotto. Diez millones! That's ten, not three.
So adios from me..." And he breaks a dippy egg
on his pink English head.
©2005 Carol Wolrich
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