"What was the Muscles' first word?" 

     The cafe was emptying of people but for a few of us starting over.  

     "Protein."  I looked at him and remembered.  "What was my number two?" He asked in perfect English with an accent so thick it kept the old world and the new world connected.  "It was dobie," another woman said.  "All he wanted at the end of a work day.  The dobie." 

     "No strangers to dirt and grime and whatever this is," yet another woman held her long skirt up revealing a stripe of oil and perfectly fitting shitkickers.  A man with stout, yellowed glasses covered his shocking! mouth look and wagged his finger.  She dropped the skirt.  

     Everybody under different directives had the conversations seeming a little awkward.

     "Indominable spirits."  

     "The wild horses?" 

     "Resiliance." 

     "Are our intellectual parents proud?" 

     "I know your real parents are.  And a lot of Thanksgiving plans are coming true." 

     "Much coming to fruition, yes." 

     "Why is there moany on de table?" 

     "That's for you guys." 

     A tiny woman plucked it up and stuck it in the front middle of her bra.  Another woman's hands dove for it.  Smacking hand contest and the dollar, dollar bills fell on the floor.  "Joo peoples are so ugly when you act dat way." 

     A woman turned on heel.  "Did you just caawl me a Jew?" 

     "Why is there money on the floor?" A small man woke up in an armchair and asked. 

     "Did you see that?" 

     "I just woke up." 

     "He's budgeting wipes!" One of the women pointed a finger but turned herself in a 360 so as to not accuse a he. 

     "Somebody take the money." 

     "What's wipes?" 

     "THEY'RE HERE!!!!" 

     "OH MY GOD.  My parents??" 

     "NO.  The Middle Agers.  Stecoah Mel's in the lead!" 

     "I heard that," came across somebody's fully cranked earbud.  "And I AM NOT a middle ager.  Yet."  

She came through the cafe door.  "But you've got one in here." 

     People looked at the walls and floor and furniture not each other. 

"Send him to Yammie's," one woman in solid tights and ankle boots and skirt and sweater said to a Coordinator.  

     "Which one?" 

     "I'm not spending any more money!" The grandpa barked.  The woman jumped.  

     "But the boy needs a haircut."  

     "Vhere is das boy?" 

     The woman looked at the ground.  A pair of feet stepped forward.  The grandpa looked at thw ground where the woman was looking.  The front of the feet waved Breakfast Club style.  The man and woman's eyes looked up the legs, and up the torso, and up into the boy's face.  "Daht's no boy, mama, daht's a giant."  

     "Is this the one we've been feeding?" The woman asked a man with a clipboard. 

     The man nodded. 

     "Orphan or exchange student?"