Enchilada Ed

30

"Bad news," Piruz wiped down the front counter, "I talked to a lawyer, and she said I can't copyright your face."

"I told you that," Ed checked the soil in the pot of the golden barrel cactus. Not bone dry, but it could stand a drink. Ed liked to think he had gotten pretty good at cactus-caretaking. The cacti in his charge looked green and succulent anyway.

"You said that your dad is a lawyer," Piruz walked around the front counter and approached Ed, "do you think I could meet with him?"

"You're going to ask my dad to help you copyright my face," Ed watered the thirsty golden barrel cactus.

"That's the plan." Piruz snatched the watering can out of Ed's hands.

"I don't think my dad does copyrights," Ed fibbed, "He won't be able to help you." Ed was pretty sure his dad did copyrights. What else did corporations go to court over, if not for intellectual property disputes? Ed watched a look of disappointment cross Piruz's face. For reasons Ed couldn't understand, he felt like giving him a hug in consolation.

"Not even a short conversation," Piruz pinched the air, "a friendly conversation?"

"I'll ask him for you," Ed patted Piruz's shoulder instead, "he might be able to squeeze you in."

"Mashallah," Piruz grinned, "Now, you go to the backroom. We'll be opening soon."

"Why don't I help the temps," Ed pointed to a twenty-something carrying a big carton of lettuce into the kitchen, "since Farbod isn't here- where is Farbod?"

"He went to the Poconos to film a new movie," Piruz ran a hand through his gray hair, and then, as if speaking only to himself, muttered "what is this boy doing? I buy this restaurant for him, we finally get customers, and he goes filming movies."

"He gonna use saran wrap this time?" Ed asked, half-joking.

"You know I can't let you stay out here," Piruz snapped back to El Gringo's, the cacti, and the watering can, "I've sold so many enchiladas, Ed! It's magic! Some people who don't even want to see you buy enchiladas! The power of the subconscious!" He tapped a finger on his temple, "It's almost as great as the power of the conscious mind. And a large portion of our enchilada sales are still conscious attempts to take pictures with you."

"Fiiine," Ed started toward the backroom.

"Ed," Piruz called after him, "Do you think your dad could maybe also talk to Farbod about law school? Give him a new direction in life, huh?"

***

In the backroom, Ed kept his iPhone off. He turned on the old cathode ray tube television mounted on the side wall. WBNZ's white-mustached anchorman teased a six o clock news segment about how "local celebrity" #EnchiladaEd had donated his lifetime supply of Bueno Burrito frozen enchiladas to a "struggling south side food bank," and how Bueno Burrito's Vice President pledged to match Ed's donation at a homeless shelter in the company's headquarters of San Diego.

"Goes to show that generosity really is contagious," the white-mustached anchorman said.

Ed felt like kicking over the backroom's table and ripping down the green board. It wasn't long before he began to trend on Twitter again.

***

Ed managed to make it home without giving WBNZ an interview. He had convinced Piruz to let him off of his shift a few minutes before six by convincing him he felt queasy and Piruz couldn't have #EnchiladaEd throwing up on his fans and customers. Bad for business (especially when you consider what happened to Chipotle). Piruz had Ed leave out El Gringo's back door. Ed pulled up his hood as he walked past the dumpsters in the back alley and thought it was lucky that it was raining. Nobody would find it suspicious that his hood was up and nobody would be looking at his face long enough to recognize him. On his way to his car, Ed passed the WBNZ van as it parked in front of El Grigno's. He caught a glimpse of the blonde reporter reapplying her makeup in her visor mirror.