Pluto Walks the Earth, Chapter 36
The Fault Is in the Stars
Look, my dad is an asshole sometimes.
Believe me, I know that. I am probably the world’s foremost expert in the assholery of Gus Demetriou. Just, for example, the shouting match at Meyerowitz’s Genuine New York Deli over on Zafarano Drive. They serve him a hot pastrami sandwich even though he’s ordered corned beef, and when he complains they say they were out of corned beef — which, ok, WTF? But I guess the server isn’t apologetic enough to suit him and next thing you know he’s wigging out and shouting at the top of his lungs, “Why didn’t you ask me? ‘Sir, I’m afraid we’re out of corned beef. Is there something else you’d like?’ That’s how it’s done. Everywhere else. In the fucking galaxy! You don’t get to decide for me! YOU CAN’T JUST DECREE PASTRAMI!” The whole restaurant was staring at us. His chair wound up on the floor. Next thing he’s tossing his French fries toward the ceiling one by one. “LOOK I DECREE THAT IT WILL RAIN POTATOES!” Not sure what that is supposed to mean, but he’s basically right, right? Still, what kind of child throws a tantrum about deli? It’s just nuts. The cops show up. We are escorted from the restaurant.