Sigmund Freud walked into Tim Horton’s. He took off his hat. He looked around the restaurant. He had never seen such a place, with such strange signs and bright lights. He looked at the other customers. The customers looked at him. Most of them thought he was an actor on a lunch break from a film shoot. But he wasn’t an actor. He was the real deal. Sigmund Freud.
He took his pocket watch out of his vest and checked the time. It was getting late and he soon had to get back to the office. Finally it was his turn to be served.
The server wore tight pants. He had slicked back hair and long sideburns. His name tag read “Elvis.” Instead of asking Freud for his order, Elvis greeted him with the words of a song: “Well since my baby left me, I found a new place to dwell. It’s down at the end of lonely street, it’s heartbreak hotel.”
Before Elvis could continue, Freud held up his hand and stopped him. “Please do not tell me ze problems zat you haf,” said Freud. “I am not verking now. I am on a break.”
Elvis, looking puzzled, asked Freud what he would like to order.
“I vud like Viennese coffee mit lots of cream,” said Freud.
“We don’t have that,” said Elvis. “We have regular coffee, dark roast, and all the other drinks listed on the sign behind me.”
“Zis is no good,” said Freud. “I must haf my Viennese coffee.”
“I’m sorry, sir, we don’t carry that. How about a double double?”
“No! No!” said Freud emphatically. “Double double just von’t do. Goodbye to you.”
Freud abruptly left. The other customers stared at him with puzzled expressions.
After leaving the restaurant Freud stood on the sidewalk, wondering where to go for his Viennese coffee. Tim Horton showed up.
“Are you who I think you are?” asked Tim.
“Yah, probably,” replied Freud. “And who might you be?”
“You don’t know? I’m Tim Horton, the founder of this restaurant.”
“Vell, since you are ze boss, I haf a complaint,” said Freud. “Vy don’t you serve Viennese coffee?”
“What a great idea!” said Tim Horton. “Why don’t I ask my people if we could develop that as our newest product? Maybe you could appear in a television ad, saying that our new Viennese coffee is Freud approved!”
“I do not know vat iz television and mine answer is absolutely no. If I cannot find my Viennese coffee I vill go back to mine office. Goodbye to you.”
“Too bad, I thought we could do business together.”
Freud turned his back and walked away, shaking his head while muttering to himself under his breath. “Zis man is disturbed, and he needs help. Maybe ze double double portion.”
And meanwhile, back in the restaurant, Elvis continued to greet his customers with the words of a song.
Addendum: Any resemblance to actual persons, living or, especially, dead, is purely coincidental.
Barry Rosen was a social worker for many years but is now retired. He has loved words, stories and books almost since birth, and currently spends much of his time at Tim Horton’s, trying to figure out how to spend his time.
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