We Hold This Moose to be Self-Evident

The Breakfast League takes on the Justice League

Sometimes, when things have really taken a turn for the worse, time appears to slow to a crawl. You have, it seems, all day to absorb and memorize every detail of the moment. Each sound, all the facial expressions, every action of this one split second--everything becomes engraved into the mind like words in granite. Mom leaped off the stool by the counter. Maggie turned like a flash and, coffeepot in hand, lunged at the table. Judge Simmons, eyes widening, face flushing in anger, reached to push Donny's leg off the bench. Mrs Simmons blushed and, not looking away, reached for his apron. Donny started to put his leg down, flushed and flustered, and began a stammering apology.

"Oh, my Lord, I am so sorry. I...I...oh god...I'm...," he started, but got no further, because the judge's hand missed his moving leg and, as if guided by unkind fate, our aging, very conservative judge grabbed all that Donny had displayed, just as his wife's hand also landed on the same spot. At that exact moment, Mom and Maggie collided and the coffee pot shot from Maggie's hand like a missile fired by an angry but very accurate God. That's the split second that is frozen in my memory: the two hands grasping, as if fighting over the last banana; Donny standing with one leg in the air; Mom and Maggie beginning to crash to the floor; the coffeepot on a collision course with destiny, as it were.

Donny, however, thawed first and immediately proved how worthy he was of a young boy's admiration: his leg had barely touched the ground before he pivoted, putting himself between the table and the speeding coffeepot, which he caught by the handle, and dripping from shirt and apron, backed away from the table, retreating to the kitchen. I would have applauded, had I not been frozen to my stool. Maggie got to her feet, and with that rare grace that strikes people unexpectedly, asked the couple if they had decided what to order. The judge sputtered and fumed and you could see that he was working up a real head of steam but his wife looked up and, with great aplomb, ordered a Denver omelet.  She looked at him as if nothing had happened and he opened and closed his mouth a few times before giving a little shake and said,

"Well, Maggie, I can't say I think much of the new uniform but the waiter is sure to give Joyce a run for her money. I'll have the Benedict." Maggie went back to the kitchen and the entire place, including the Simmons' table, exploded in laughter.

Mom got to her feet, looked over at the door to the kitchen, back at the judge, and shook her head. I was pretty sure that this wasn't going to be the end of the matter. Judge Simmons was in charge of my father's case.