“Good morning, Mr. Charlie.”
“Hey, Charlie.”
“How are you, Mr. Charlie?”
Charlie said, “Good morning, guys,” and took his seat with me at the table at Estel’s Restaurant.
“That’s an interesting group of guys,” Charlie told me. “They are circus workers out of Sarasota, Florida. They take care of the animals.”
“I know what that’s like,” I said. “I’ve been working with musicians for years. It’s probably about the same.”
I went to wash my hands and when I returned a lively discussion had broken out among the circus workers.
“I think it’s WOOMB,” one of the guys said.
“No. It would have to be WOOMBH,” said another.
“You’re both wrong,” the third guy said. “It’s definitely WOOOOM.”
The other member of the group said, “You’re all wrong. It’s closer to WOOMMMBBB.”
I could tell that the attractive young tourist lady at the next table over was getting more and more annoyed listening to this argument. She got up and walked over to the circus worker’s table.
“Look, you idiots,” she said. “It is WOMB. That’s it. End of story.”
She walked back over to her table and sat down. The four guys looked at each other.
“She’s wrong,” one said.
“There’s no way she would know if she doesn’t work in the circus,” said one of his friends.
“Yeah,” another said. “I bet she’s never even heard an elephant fart.”
