This is a story about people from California because they think they’re better than everybody else.
Dylan stared at approximately seventy avocados covering the earthen tile of the Rainbow Light Food Coop. Rainbow Light is the third largest coop in The Mission. It was started in 1972 by hippie followers of Guru Mukherjee. The Guru dropped his “Guru” title in the 1980s, claiming: “spiritual awakening is no longer attained religiously, but from breath control exhibited during mental focus. This coincided with an FBI embezzlement investigation and seizure of the Guru’s assets.
He now uses his birth name Kajal Satyanarayan and tours the world teaching mental focus using dominoes and pick-up sticks. Shrouded in controversy, his “Guru” title remains on the documents listing him as co-inventor on U.S. patent D9860937 for an exploding underwater compass. The other details of his life are unimportant, as the Guru sold Rainbow Light Food Coop to Bert and Anna Plank in 1977–shortly before a forceful deportation. Under Bert and Anna’s care the coop survived the fall of the People’s Food System and still resides at 15th and Julian, now employing 200 people.
Dylan is one of them. She had been working there for seven months. One month for every ten avocados on the ground right now. Suddenly, her attention snapped back to Peter, her ex-boyfriend, and Fritz, her current boyfriend, holding each other in a death grip now that they’ve tired of going blow for blow. A larger woman in a flowing muumuu pushes her cart right past them, reaches out, and grabs some bulgur from the neighboring display. The woman retreats back past the tousling couple, as she glides by, she leans down singing a lyric from the Stone Poneys 1960 hit: “you and I travel to the beat of a different drum” without losing any momentum. Actually, Monkees guitarist Mike Nesmith wrote the song, but he didn’t make it famous. Trust me Mike, It’s not you; it’s Linda Rondsadt.
“Could this be my fault?” Dylan wondered to herself. Peter stopped mangling Fritz’s hair and looked up “Yes!” he shouted. I should mention Dylan often wonders to herself out loud. The problem started back in April when Peter and Dylan were considering moving in together. Well, Dylan was considering it. Peter was too busy taking her for granted. Eventually, Peter stopped taking her for granted. Unfortunately, this was two months after she had left him and started dating Fritz, one of the organic farmers who supply the co-op. Fritz specializes in green beans but he also grows potatoes and peppers.
Fritz punches Peter in the face, twice. Dylan realizes she needs to rethink her priorities. This new violence also confirms for her that they are not going to stop until someone is unconscious, if not dead. Having grown men fight over you is less glamorous than it sounds. Dylan leaves just as Peter puts Fritz in a scissor hold.
She walks briskly down aisle four and grabs a bottle of honey, a package of chocolate chips, and two sacks of flour. Carly comes running around the corner “Dylan! Your boyfriends are battling!” Dylan shakes her heard in the affirmative. “I know.” Carly pushes her glasses up on her nose. “Well, what are you going to do about it? She notices Dylan’s supplies. “Bake a cake?”
Dylan walks back to the front of the co-op. I cannot lose this job, she thinks. Dylan has lost several jobs in the past eighteen months. In this particular case, several equal nine. She maintains a “wrong place at the wrong time” attitude about her employment misfires. Only one of them was an actual misfire but that’s an expectation to have when you hire a twenty eight year-old fashion student from the Modesto to work at an ammunition supply and gun range.
However, her recent acceptance to a grad program at Cal Arts lit a fire under her, and the tuition bill she received this morning set that fire on fire.
“I need this job, I can’t get fired for having two boyfriends”, Dylan thought. And she is right. And also wrong. She doesn’t actually have two boyfriends. What she does have is a problem: her ex-boyfriend Peter has taken to stalking her.
It upset her at first, the stalking. Not as much as it upset Fritz, but—keep in mind—two weeks ago Fritz declared his love for her. He took her out to a fancy dinner and on their walk home they talked about wind energy and their mutual love of San Francisco. Fritz took Dylan’s hand and sweetly professed his love in the very kind way that he did most things. Peter told me, he was there in the bushes.
Last Tuesday, Peter made a candlelit dinner in the courtyard of Dylan’s building and had it waiting for her when she returned from a hard day’s work. After work but before the candlelit dinner, Dylan had a blowout fight with Fritz. He was stressed out over a suspected infestation in his purple peacock beans, one that could spread to the neighboring lipstick peppers. Insults were exchanged and feelings were as bruised as a royal blue hillbilly tomato.
Dylan had not spoken to Peter since she walked out the door three months ago. Peter had spoken to Dylan, well to Dylan’s voicemail, quite a bit at first. In the past few weeks, he seemed to have calmed down and settled into the passive role of an occasion stalker. All of this action surprised Dylan, as Peter had ignored her for the last six months working on a big case at Dundey, Dundey, and McKane, his Environmental law firm. This new slightly crazy, Peter made her wonder. The wondering made Dylan hungry, so she sat down and ate with her stalker.
They had a nice talk about the superiority of Kentucky bluegrass to Experimental jazz. Peter asked her why she left him. She paused for exactly seven seconds before saying he took her for granted. Saving the Redwood is important and noble but after his promotion, there was no way for her to get his attention—short of cutting one down herself. What Dylan didn’t is know that Peter had made a pact with himself earlier regarding this question. “If she hesitates for more than five seconds, I still have a chance with her” he told himself in the mirror. Then he shook his own hand, which was awkward. “I should’ve given you a reason to stay”, he told her.
She looked up at him to speak, when Fritz walked in carrying a basket of fingerlings and Garnett sweet potatoes. “I’m sorry, I thought we could make up and make mashed— Fritz saw the dinner spread. “What the hell is this?” Dylan got up and walked over to him. She deliberated whether or not to offer him an explanation. Fritz turned to Peter, “Listen man, she’s too nice to say this but I’m not: it’s over. You need to leave.” In an unexpected turn of events, Peter got up, blew out his candles, and left.
Dylan hadn’t heard from him since, until today. Peter showed up this morning at Rainbow Light, tapped Fritz on the shoulder, and declared his intentions. His intentions are as follows: “I love Dylan and I will outlast you. I am a lawyer, I fight dirty and I will do whatever it takes to recover her heart. I am not afraid of pain, do your best.” Fritz immediately cold-cocked him.
Now, their marathon brawl continues and it looks to Dylan, as she arrives at the front of the store with her supplies, like they found weapons. Peter throws apples like fastballs are Fritz’s head. Fritz’s runs at Peter like a defensive lineman hitting him in the mid section and knocking him to the floor again. Dylan watches the two men struggling, their bodies locking like battling contortionists, among what has become a fruit salad on the floor.
Now, she thinks to herself, this time silently, “That man on the floor is going to be my husband.” She sighs and abruptly drops a sack the flour on each guy’s head, knocking them unconscious or at least stunning them—she’s not sure. She opens up the chocolate, grabs a handful, pours it in her mouth, and washes it down with a slug of honey. Carly comes running up, surveying the scene “what the hell happened!?” Dylan swallows, “love.” She replied.
