3. Bob Marley Extra Crispy

The Babushka could not fret over her dead cat for long. She decided to continue on her walk... solo. It was probably all for the better that the crazy naked man ran off with Putzina. Feline Stew- although a famous tradition back in the old country- always gave Svetlana indigestion.
At the thought of food, the old woman's gelatinous stomach began to rumble. Ox tail soup from the local Jamaican restaurant, "Jamaican Me Crazy", would be an adequate replacement for Feline Stew! Svetlana licked her lips and wobbled off to the spicy, raggae-filled haven.
Svetlana pushed past a small flock of pigeons feeding off of the rancid Chinese food scattered across the sidewalk."Перемещение грязных птиц корма!" The Babushka cursed loudly. That was one thing Putzina had been good for. Killing pigeons.
From above, the Babushka heard a shrill caw. This was not a pigeon noise. Svetlana glanced upward, masking her eyes with her hand to block the sun. The Babushka squinted at the horizon. From a distant rooftop, she believed she could make out the shape of a boy, sitting. She blinked. Another caw, and the flock of ground-pigeons burst into the air with a storm a white poop and warbling, flapping violently past Svetlana. Svetlana brushed a feather off of her blouse, focused her gaze once again at the horizon. The boy was gone. Babuskha really needed to lay off the meds.
As she neared the restaurant, the soothing syncopated rythms of Peter Tosh filled the Babushka's ears. Jerking open the glass doors, Svetlana entered through the sparkling bead curtains, and breathed in the tell-tale scent of jerk chicken and illegal herbal substances.
"AYY BABUSHKA, MON!" De-Angelo, Babushka's drug dealer and owner of Jamaican Me Crazy beamed at the old woman with his wide, white smile.
"Я хочу получить фаршированные," muttered Svetlana, shoving past her kind host and plopping down at the table in the center of the room.
"Alrighty then, mon. Let's get you what you need. The usual I suppose? Ay, and why you heyuh today, mon? It is a Thursday!"
Svetlana was quite the Jamaican food enthusiast and attended the restaurant every Wednesday at noon. She had sat down for a good lunch here just the day before, however today brought the need for an emergency ox-tail soup run. "Cat is dead," Babushka frowned,
"Oh mon! I will get you some Bob Marley Extra Crispy pronto, Babuska, don't you worry, mon!" De-Angelo started for the back room, but Svetlana raised her hand and stubby little fingers into the air, "No DorogAya moyA, you do not need to do this for me." She cupped her head in her hands, then once again raised her right arm to wave De-Angelo off to the kitchen again, "Just the soup. Uh-Please."
De-Angelo furrowed his brow, "Sure, whateva you need mon," he said and rushed off to the kitchen.
Babuskha dabbed at the moisture gathering around her tear ducts with a paper napkin. She lost her husband many years ago. Now she had lost her cat.
What was a lonely Babuskha in America to do now? Her only friend was De-Angelo, if you could even call your drug dealer a "friend". Babushka supposed that with nothing else to live for she would have to resort to more hard-core drugs to ease the pain of solidarity. As increasingly worse predictions about Svetlana's self-destructive future began to unfold within her mind, a "bing" chimed from across the room as the smudged glass doors of De-Angelo's restaurant swung open, and a tall, dark and handsome figure emerged from behind the rasta-bead curtains.
Svetlana was immediately star-struck. Her old heart began throbbing. Who was this mysterious hunk?
The man stepped forward, head low, and simultaneously, thunder struck outside, rattling the Babuskha's glass of water that she had already spiked with her omnipresent vodka flask. The man reached forward and steadied the wobbling glass. The Babushka melted. A downpour of tumultuous rain followed.
De-Angelo re-entered the room and briskly galloped to Svetlana's table with a steaming pot of ox-tail soup. However, despite its warm and intoxicating smell, the Babushka couldn't draw her eyes away from the face of the mysterious man.