Gabriel enjoyed lunchtime the most. For thirty minutes every six hour shift, he was allowed a meal, usually a hero, or a sub – a sandwich, for those who don’t understand late 20th century regional dialects that have probably died out by the time you’re reading this. Interesting how certain accents are becoming less and less prominent today. The American Southern accent is becoming increasingly infused with that California lilt that ends sentences in a slightly interrogative tone. If you watch the old Hollywood movies with Katharine Hepburn, you can see the pronounced rigidity of her New England accent “William, my dear, I absolutely love you.” Try it yourself with your jaw unmoving, admire Cary Grant’s perfect Mid-Atlantic accent, the one they taught in acting school. By the time you future generations read this, there will probably be an American accent that has taken the place of regional dialects, or who knows, those regional twangs may become more prominent due to the regionalization of our huge country.…anyway, where was I, yes, the hero.
It was toasted so that the bread sometimes burned and cut the roof of your mouth if you weren’t careful. And of course Gabriel added all the trimmings – mayo, mustard, pepper salt, oil vinegar, lettuce tomatoes, pickles, red onions, jalapenos and bell peppers, provolone. If his shift were five and a half, he would stay on extra to get lunch, which did not bother O’Donell in the slightest; he enjoyed watching the lad eat. It reminded him of his own youth and the nostalgia he felt took the place of the son he had never had. Gabriel ate ravenously, scarfing the sandwiches as if they were his last. O’Donnell pretended to chop, but actually watched tv and glanced at his employee to make sure he was enjoying his idea of fine food. Gabriel usually worked weekend afternoons, which was enough to give him money and the nighttime to play when he wanted.
-Hot Love on the Wing,