Love my coke and pie.

Love my coke and pie

I find that most of what I truly enjoy in my world is small and relatively insignificant; like my coke and pie.

I am a self employed cabinet installer and most days find me working alone. I’m usually on the site by 7:30 and work till about 4 in the afternoon. Once I get going, I don’t like to take the time for lunch as the rhythm of the day gets interrupted and I get less done and end up spending more time on the site.

Some days I do bring a lunch (courtesy of my wife) but on those days my biological clock becomes altered somehow and by 10:30 my stomach starts to think it’s noon and time to eat. I attribute this to the fact that my lunch bucket has been staring at me throughout the morning. Experience tells me that there is no use fighting it and so by 11:00 lunch has been devoured. It’s on these days, when my stomach has been sated early that I find I begin to get the craving. At this point an excitement starts to build that I can’t explain.

I don’t know what it is but sometime in the early afternoon I start thinking about my treat; my coke and pie. Not just any coke and pie mind you, I’m talking about the coke and pie you get from the fast food outlets. The large coke with ice in the wax covered paper cup and the pie that sits in the brightly coloured cardboard box. The presentation isn’t very attractive but it’s not what it looks like that has me thinking, it’s what’s inside.

I know it’s not good for me and I try to resist ; I even have an internal debate about the pros and cons of consuming the coke and pie. The debate is always the same though with the inevitable outcome; me sitting in a drive thru ordering. I’ve done it so many times now it’s almost ritualistic; the craving, the feigned debate, the ever building anticipation, the drive thru and then,.........the act!

Once I’ve paid, the anticipation is at a fevered pitch and almost unendurable.  

Find a spot to park. Sounds easy enough but no, it seems the spot must be just right; off on a side street, maybe with a little park, some trees and away from the hustle and bustle. Finally.

 There is no point describing the actual consumption of the pie, it’s anti climactic, it consists of only four bites taken in less than two minutes and...... it’s not pretty. All pretence of manner and etiquette has disappeared and all that matters is getting the pie down and chasing it with the coke.

Once the pie is well on its way, I take a moment to clear my beard of any offending morsel, have another swig of the coke, start the truck and move on. It’s over, it’s done.

The drinking of the coke at this point is like the puffing of the proverbial post-love making- cigarette and the following several minutes see me winding down from...... the act. Then of course the internal dialogue begins, first the question of why, then the chastising and the disbelief that I’d given in yet again which of course leads to guilt. The guilt of having had an illicit pleasure; I should be ashamed.

 However, after some time has elapsed and the internal conversation has faded to a dull blah, blah, blah, I do eventually come to my senses and see the whole thing for what it really is.

                                                      I just love my coke and pie.