Lion's Milk

A friend and I wandered the sidewalks of New Hope, heading in the direction of dinner. As we walked, we noticed a bearded man parked in front of a store. The man had a magnificent gut. It spilled out over the edge of his waistband, held mid-air by a pair of red suspenders. He leaned on a cane. The man heard our approaching footsteps. He hastily grabbed at a basket sitting next to him.
"Ladies, I have something for you."
Something could be anything, anything could be something not worth stopping for. It was a trap. Besides, we were hungry.
"No thanks."
"Please, it is free."
Remove the value and the something became inconsequential.
We stopped. The man placed a safety pin decorated with glass beads in each of our wary palms.
"What is this?"
"It is a charm!"
I glanced at the basket. It was filled. People don't just spend hours beading safety pins, especially complimentary ones.
"Thanks, but why?"
The man sputtered.
"Well...to celebrate the end of spring and the return of summer and....uh...they are good luck."
A highly specific answer. I accepted it, fastening the nick-knack to my bag. We started to gather our belongings.
"Wait! There is more."
We paused, eyebrows raised.
"If you go through these doors, in the backyard is one of the world's largest tapestry pillows. I bet you'd love to recline on one of the world's largest tapestry pillows."
Maybe...
"Also, there are snacks."
Actually, yes. Yes, we would.
The man flourished with his cane towards the entrance. We stepped inside. The interior was the truest of wall to wall carpet - overlapping shag rugs in deep jewel tones, dim, sounds padded, voices muffled by yarn insulation.
Out back was a modest lot - crab grass, a crumpled oak. There, underneath the oak, was one of the world's largest tapestry pillows. It stretched out for miles, lumpy tiles cross-hatched together with thick thread. We gingerly stepped onto it, searching out its center. Upon locating a nucleus, we lay down. My limbs fell at awkward angles, knees elevated, pelvis sunk in, head skewed. The skin on the back of my wrists pressed against stiff follicles.
"Excuse me, would you two like your picture taken on one of the world's largest tapestry pillows?"
I sat up.
A woman with varicose veins held out a card with the letter 'B'
I crawled across the great expanse.
I took it from her.
I smiled.
A camera's flash fired.
My friend remembered a promise.
"Where are the snacks?"
The woman pointed to a cart.
Behind the cart was a boy. The boy wore a shrunken vest and a squat cap.
Half-hearted, he gestured to a spread.
"This is a cheese pastry. Over here we have stuffed grape leaves. We have Lion's Milk shots too."
"Lion's Milk?"
"It is a Turkish drink made out of grain alcohol."
"Can we get one of those?"
"Sure."
We knocked back the mix in dixie cups. I gagged, overwhelmed by anise.
"Sorry. I should have told you they were strong...Lions are strong. Get it?"
"I get it."
"Don't feel like you have to finish it. I can give you some water."
"No, I'm alright."
My friend was charmed.
"So, you live around here?"
"Yeah. But I go to the University of Maryland."
"You look a little like Aladdin in that outfit."
The boy rubbed his forehead.
"I am not even from Turkey...it is a summer job. I kind of hate it."
The Lion's Milk had begun to sink into my bones. Sympathy gripped me.
"It's gonna be okay man. Money is money."
Chanting music faded in from a nearby speaker.
The boy poured himself a shot and sipped it.
"I know."
Our conversation ended abruptly.
The woman with varicose veins had tapped me on the shoulder and asked for my email address. I gave it to her, opening up my mailbox to upholstered spam of all kinds.
We left only after being assured that we'd soon be receiving photo evidence of our moment of suspension, set adrift on one of the world's largest tapestry pillows.