The four of them would show up each and every day, even on Sunday, at the sit-down delicatessen of the Jolly Giant Food Store to drink coffee. A lot of coffee. They all carried 16-ounce refillable plastic cups that they had originally bought at Jolly Giant and therefore they were entitled to as many refills as their prostates and bladders could stand at just 25 cents per cup. One refill would last them 30 to 45 minutes. They were, all four of them, into sipping, not rapid consumption, so at 25 cents, a dollar could get them through the balance of the morning, sometimes 75 or even 50 cents might cover their time because the delicatessen manager rarely looked at them, and when he did, he just shook his head, turned, and walked away. That was the signal for them to run up to the counter for a free refill, which was a game they loved to play, the four of them, and they were quite good at it.

     Their names were Matty, Marv, Lute, and John, and they were known as "The Salmonella Club," a title they cherished. That name came from Helen, a large woman with too much lipstick and a hairdo that did not fit her round face. She worked the morning shift at Jolly Giant four days a week and named the four of them, Matty, Marv, Lute, and John, "The Salmonella Club" because she said that exposure to any one of them would cause stomach upset, severe sickness, and probably diarrhea. But Helen was the best when it came to looking the other way at the counter and the club members loved her for it and they made her an honorary member of The Salmonella Club, although they never personally told her of this honorarium. Helen easily gave away 11 or 12 cups a day at Jolly Giant but she knew that the store would survive but she was not so sure about the club members. They were all into being thin and she would wonder if they ever ate anything and decided that they probably ate one meal a day, max, wherever they could find it. The Salmonella Club had one outstanding requirement for membership: you had to be poor and they were all that, and being poor was being thin or as Matty said, 'who ever heard of fat, prosperous-looking, people picking up pop cans for a lousy nickel?'

     Marv said once that Helen was starting to look good to him and that drew a big laugh from the club members inasmuch as she probably weighed as much as any two of them and it was decided that Marv could not have handled Helen on his best day even if he should ever have another best day.

     So Helen would look away when their cups were empty and then looked back when they were filled again. 'There they all are,' she thought, 'sitting around in those second-hand plaid shirts they seemed to favor, summer or winter.' She wondered what their last names might be. Perhaps they did not have last names anymore. Poor people never seemed to have last names, she thought. They probably had last names 20 years ago when they were working and were solvent. One thing was for sure, their money was gone and their women were gone, and where the hell were their kids now? 'Damn,' she thought, 'I've got to run down to the bakery section and see if they have any day-old doughnuts for those guys. Where does one find 'salmonella' in the dictionary, Helen? Is it next to sympathy? Relax Helen. Don't get involved with the paying customers, if you can call those guys paying customers.'

     "Hey, Helen," John yelled, "Lute here says he can handle you tonight if you don't keep him up too late."

&nb sp;    "Tell Lute," Helen yelled back, "that he's really sweeping me off my feet, but this is my night for bingo."

     "Damn," yelled Lute, "stood up by a bingo game at the Eagles Club!"

     "Well, Lutie, old boy," Helen answered, "maybe some other time. Pick a day, oh, say, June 31st." The Salmonella Club cracked up. 'I'll give them this,' Helen thought, 'they have kept their sense of humor and that's good because that's all they really have. That and a Senior Citizen's discount card at the Salvation Army Store for life's little necessities.'

     "Hey, Helen," John yelled again, "not that a lady of your quality would ever be found there, but the half-price sticker at Goodwill this week is blue. Say again, Helen, blue."

     "Thanks, John," Helen said, "I must write that down with something. Lend me one of your crayons, John, will you?" She got another great laugh. 'Helen, you're really on form today,' she thought as she looked at John. Of the four, he would be the one who could operate a computer and his fingers would never touch anything but a keyboard. No crayons for John. 'I wonder what his last name really is?' She must really find that out.

     She looked at John again. Of the four, he was the thinnest. He did not look well today, nor had he for a long time. 'Wonder what he eats, or even if he does eat,' she thought. 'But then, none of these guys could ever be a model for Modern Maturity. God, I wish they would find some different plaid shirts.'

     It was getting past 11 AM and the noon lunch crowd was starting to come in, which meant that The Salmonella Club stood ready for adjournment. They all went their separate ways after another trip to the bathroom to clear the coffee. That was another requirement for membership. You did your own thing in the afternoon and evening. Helen wondered where they all went, where they could go to spend the rest of their day, and if they would be alone. Yes, they would be alone.

     "Boy, I got things to do today," Matty said. They all agreed that they had things to do today, for sure.

     Again, Helen thought about John. Where did he spend his afternoons? She guesssed that he went to museums and libraries. They all lived near the edge of a downtown in a large city so those places would be accessible on foot and neither John nor any of the rest of them had a car so foot power or perhaps a city bus would be all the transportation required. They all could walk to Jolly Giant from wherever or whatever they called home. Mean streets around this neighborhood sometimes, not the worst of the city, but a tough place when you were old.

     She wondered about the places that they all lived in. One room, a curtain around the toilet, a small refrigerator that had not been defrosted in years, she thought. Did their kids ever look in on them to see if they needed anything? Like food or medicine?

     "Hey, boys," Helen yelled, "take with." She tossed John a bag of day-old doughnuts and rolls with creme filling that Marv liked so much.

     The Salmonella Club was grateful. Good, old, Helen had come through again. "Such a beautiful lady she is," Lute said.