Marshmallow Fluff

On my way home from the Ear Inn tonight I decided to stop by Rosarios for a posh mushroom slice. I was quite famished after a long night of mingling and imbibing on a merely quarter full tummy. I was basically ravenous when I started the long trek from Spring and Greenwich and mentally drooled over the thought of Rosarios' mushroom pizza the whole way there. It was prime pizza time by the time I hobbled in around 3:30 am and of course the mushroom pie tray was empty as could be. I asked anyway, hoping against all hope, but it was a no go. I went with the spinach ricotta slice instead. The one with big dollops of fluffy ricotta on top. It was crowded at Rosarios so I decided to munch a bit as I walked home with pizza in hand. As I walked down Orchard toward Rivington, I spotted a girl who autmoatically made me think "prostitute". As in, what's a prostitute like that doing on Orchard Street right now? There was just something so Pretty Woman style prostitute about her look, what she wore, how she walked, all in an unironic way, that I couldn't help but think street walker. As I approached and passed her she took note of me was well. "Wha? Oh it's pizza." I sort of half smiled in acknowledgment, though with my face buried in a slice she probably didn't notice. When I was a few feet past her, and just a moment after she'd realized what I was nibbling on, she called out "I thought it was marshmallows", with the last syllable ascending, as if to imply, duh, it looked like marshmallows. And to be fair, it probably kind of did.