Monsters in a Box

Monster bagels. That's what Michael called them. They were the deformed, over-sized or under-sized bagels at the local bagel shop along Lighthouse Way. We were about twelve, and knew each other through our parents, who worked with each other at the Navy School. When I would visit Michael's, we would take a walk to the bagel shop. He would always ask for "monster bagels" because if the had them, they were free. Our odds were better in the morning. By afternoon, more often than not, one or more unnamed predecessors had come in and acquired them, or else they had been bagged up and set out as bird feed for tourists on Fisherman's Wharf.

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