My Cardboard Balcony

Plastic Hats by Belinda Roddie We'll wear the cheap zoot suits and plastic hats that we snagged from the old costume store, and we'll settle on the downtown corner and form a raucous band to rile up the business owners, from the cranky croissant peddler to the smartly dressed bartenders to the simple hair stylist who just adopted a bright-eyed and extra fluffy shepherd puppy. I'll pretend to play the bass while he squeals as loudly as he can into a saxophone, and you - you'll get to sing like Louis Armstrong in his happier days, when the world really was as wonderful as he made it out to be.

"How about cake?" suggested Erika. "Every problem can be solved with cake." "Not this one, I'm afraid," I sighed, sitting down on the park bench and watching the soccer game nearby. It was clearly older kids versus younger kids - yet the younger kids were winning. One girl who looked to be eight years old was performing a victory dance after allegedly scoring a goal. "Hey," Erika pried, "I remember when I had an argument with my boyfriend, I cooled him off with a devil chocolate slice. Never say never."