Enchilada Ed

21

It wasn't until six-o-clock that Piruz let Ed off his shift. He had spent the past five hours in El Gringo's backroom, making awkward small talk with mostly thirteen-to-sixteen year old girls, while fathers and mothers took blurry pictures with unfocused iPhone cameras. He had just changed into his street clothes when Piruz knocked on the door.

"You still in your costume, Ed?" Piruz popped his head into the backroom, "there's a reporter from WBNZ here to interview you," he grinned at the popcorn ceiling, "A segment on the local news is like another, completely free commercial!"

Ed swallowed. Hadn't he already suffered enough attention? Why on earth did the local news station want to talk to him? What sort of interest could a flash-in-the-pan meme hold for the average six-o-clock news watcher? The usual demographic for that time block had to be over the age of fifty.

"I just took it off, and-"

"That's okay," a deep-voiced, blonde-haired woman followed Piruz, "We don't need him to be in costume. We just need a good shot of that-"

"Face, I know," Piruz threw up his arms, "I'll allow it. But mention that's we're at 5798 West Fourth, or no dice."

***

A bearded man in a baseball cap shone a bright light off a collapsible reflector disc into Ed's eyes. Ed tried very hard not to squint. WBNZ's correspondent had insisted that Ed not squint. Your eyes are gorgeous, show them off. Ed thought it was a small wonder they didn't put mascara on him.

"And here is the man of the moment himself, Ed Fenchel," the correspondent turned the microphone toward Ed, "Hi Ed!"

"Hi, uh," Ed squinted. He couldn't remember the correspondent's name.

"Boy of the moment," Piruz interrupted, "he's a boy." He walked into the shot behind Ed and rested his hands on Ed's shoulders, "I hired him here at El Gringo's at 5798 West Fourth Street-"

"Alright, let's say teen of the moment, then," the correspondent made a face to someone off camera, "how does it all feel, Ed?"

That someone off camera grabbed Piruz's arm and gently escorted him out of frame.

"Pretty weird, I guess," Ed watched another WBNZ producer drag a very reluctant Piruz out of the backroom and into the hallway.

"Pretty weird, huh?" the correspondent chipperly repeated, "You're probably the most famous person in Linden Valley right now. We're seeing the Enchilada Ed hashtag pop up in tweets from as far away as China, how do you feel about that?"

"China?" Ed's eyes widened, "I didn't know it had gone that far-"

"So did you always know that you were so attractive," the correspondent interrupted, "or is this a revelation?"

"I'm not completely sure this isn't an elaborate prank," Ed tried not to cringe, "I don't get it."

"Well, your fans certainly do. Just one last question. It's prom season," the correspondent paused for dramatic effect.

Ed cringed at the word prom.

"I'm sure a handsome kid like yourself has got a date to prom, so can you tell me who's the lucky lady and what she thinks of all this viral adoration?"

"Well," Ed's face pinkened, "I don't actually have a date to prom?"

"No way," the correspondent's mouth fell open, "so you just haven't met anyone you wanted to ask, or what?"

"I mean, I asked two girls and got turned down twice."

"Twice? Aww," the correspondent pouted in theatrical sympathy, "how rough was that?"