SKIRMISHER

Me: “Uh, Mr. T? Can I ask you a question?”

He turned back towards me, cautious.

Mr. T: “Yeah, yeah. What is your question?”

It was a question that I had wanted to ask since, well…forever.

Me: “Do you still pity the fool? I mean, or was that just an 80’s thing or something?”

[A beat.]

Mr. T: “Do I still…what?”

Me: “You know…do you still pity the fool? Like you used to pity those fools in the 80’s? I mean, you went around all over the place and on the TV pitying the fools but then suddenly you just stopped saying it…but people sometimes stop saying trademark phrases they’re known for but still…you know…still think it, or hold those kind of ideas close to them…”

Mr. T: “You’re kidding me…right?”

I wasn’t.

Me: “No, well… No.”

By that point, Mr. T’s double-shot espresso was ready and they called him but not by the Mr. T name but by another name altogether. It was a startling, weird moment as he glared at me, then picked up his energy elixir. It was then, coffee in hand, that he swung back around — face to face.

Mr. T: “I pity the fool who has to ask me if I still pity the fool.”

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