A Crusty Elf

I have a tendency to stare off into the distance. For long periods of time. With my mouth open. It's so extreme that a co-worker at Logan's Roadhouse called me Space Case on occasion. At which my manager pushed my mouth closed.

While this tendency is a point of humor for those who know me, it is nothing short of a point of confusion for those who do not know me.

Point and case . . . the mall food court.

I was seated at a table, waiting for Tad to join me. (He got held up at Burger King. I swear they never have more than two workers each shift). The table was pushed up to this elevated flower bed (though I think there were ferns in it), and on the other side was another table.

As I waited, I drifted off in to the imaginary world that so often claims my attention. But apparently I had drifted facing the wrong direction.

Seated at the table on the other side of the fern bed was a black girl, happily eating her dinner...and noticing my stare. The thing that broke me out of my stupor was when I heard her tell her friend,

"This girl keeps staring at me."

The friend mumbled a response (the ferns did a good job of breaking up vocal frequency).

I shifted a bit, suddenly realizing that while I HADN'T been staring AT her, I HAD been staring directly PAST her. FOR THE PAST MINUTE OR SO.

And then that's when I heard her say,

"She look at me like she a crusty elf."

A crusty elf.

I looked back at my food, embarrassed. And hurt. And I thought. And I thought. And I realized that her description was probably accurate.

After all, what do you expect a crusty elf to look like, except a befuddled, blank-faced, pale white girl with blond hair, and a mouth that's catching flies?


And just for kicks, "Crusty" is defined here in the Urban Dictionary.