Once upon a time there was a little Brooklyn Flea named Nat the Rat.
She lived in a little flat on Montague Street with her Brooklyn Holbsmouse, and together they ate bagels every day at the city's best Kosher deli. They were blissfully happy, the Brooklyn Flea, her Holbsmouse, and their Pancricket.
Then one day her Brooklyn Holbsmouse got this crazy idea to go to Law school, so they up and moved to Moscow.
And while that little Brooklyn Flea loved Moscow with all of her day-dreaming heart, she desperately wished she could go back to her little Brooklyn flat, walk her dirty Brooklyn streets, and maybe (if she was good), go to her favorite Kosher deli for a plain bagel with tomato and cream cheese, please.
One weekend, her Holbsmouse packed her up in the car and whisked her away to the real Brooklyn Flea.
(The one in Fort Greene.)
They had their first Egg Cream there. (It wasn't very good.)
This is what she saw (and wishes she could have bought) there.
I tried to narrate the babies' conversation, like this:
"Hi, I have a thing for boys with red hair, and I think you're cute."
"I don't have red hair! My hair is strawberry blonde!"
I think it hit too close to home for Brandon, because he told me I should stop.