While we waited for Elysha to finish up in CVS, Charlie stepped away and began pounding on a mailbox.
I ignored him at first, assuming he would stop after a second, but when he didn’t, I called over, asking him what he was doing.
“Trying to make some money!” he said. “You know… those people who drum on the streets while people throw money at them.”
Charlie was trying his luck at busking.
But instead of a buckets or metal pails and maybe some drum sticks, he was banging his hands on a United States postal receptacle.
To his credit, he didn’t quit. He also explored every inch of that mailbox, finding the spots that offered the highest and lowest pitches. And the whole time, he performed with honest-to-goodness style and flair, creating a whole body performance.
When Elysha returned, his performance came to an abrupt end. As we walked down the street, he asked me, “How to you think I did?”
“I thought you were great,” I said.
“Then where’s my money?” he asked, sticking out his hand. “What? You don’t pay people who entertain you?”
I pointed out that I had just purchased him ice cream. It was the reason we have come to the center of town in the first place.
He told me that he’d prefer cash next time.
