Dream in A Flat

It was a nondescript room, which is lucky because I hate to have to describe rooms.  Elaine (from Seinfeld) was nearby in this white, almost too white, wedding dress, with bare shoulders and a white sort of hat that looked like something that Zorro’s girlfriend would wear, or a Greek Orthodox Priest might wear – except as I say, in bleached white lace.

I told her, before a group of guys circled around her that she looked beautiful, and she gave that phony “thank you” that always made me laugh, and I asked where she was headed in that outfit and she said to a wedding; that all the bridesmaids were being forced to wear this outlandish garb.  It was like instead of one bride, there would be a hundred brides.

Anyway, she was soon encircled by a bunch of autograph hounds, and they were starting to hand out sandwiches to all the people who were sitting around the nondescript room against nondescript walls.  And I stood up and walked out the door right onto…

The Coney Island boardwalk.   And stopped at this pizza place the width of a screen door, but that went back forever, and there I met an old Italian poppa and his kid, who were sweeping the floor.  They said they only made pizza’s to order, and showed me a writeup in some eating magazine, proclaiming the newest twist to the pizza place.

And so the old man takes a bunch of dough which has risen and which you usually see tossed a bit in the air, and instead he drops it on the floor and with bare old-man feet he starts to flatten it out by walking on it.

Like making wine in the old country, he says, but now it’s pizza pie!

He tells me to return in 2 days to pick up the pizza.

I tell him I’ll be back in 15 minutes. He says that should be fine.

So next to this odd pizza by foot house is a dirt hill, and I just decide to go down the hill, which is steep, and I find myself slipping and sliding down the hill until I dig my feet in finally.  Turns out, I’ve slid into a graveyard.  An old mossy graveyard with stone crosses.

They’re all facing up the hill, away from me, but in order to get up I pull on the top of a cross and it seems to be connected to the coffin, and as I pull it the coffin pops up, and Elaine pops out!  Nothing scary.  I tell her about the pizza made flat by feet, and we both show up at the place to find the owner spreading the sauce on the flattened dough – with his feet.

Elaine says, she’s not eating that.  And where is the board of health when you need them?

And just as she’s saying that, a bright red hummer with decals saying, BOARD OF HEALTH, pulls up, and handcuffs the old pizza maker and his son together.  As they are carted off, I pick up one of the small finished pies and take a bite.

Coney Island Pizza
Coney Island Pizza

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