Seven Stud by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview
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Chapter 6
I woke the next morning in my usual couch position, the first glimmer of sunrise beautifully in my eyes. Dulling things somewhat I had the TV on and saw right wing fat boy lecture some unseen straw man on something, he off and on found as amusing as his captive staff. I was impressed at the number of “facts” at his immediate disposal. This guy just had to be the modern day equivalent of an anti-Huey Long. As I listened to him detailing the inefficiencies and wasted use of line items #176-A, 194-H, 076-Y and the like, I corrected myself. Huey Long actually got elected to a number of offices. This popularly plain and ordinary representative of the formerly “silent majority,” no doubt an interesting guest at backyard beer barbeques, was living proof of the vacuity of the movement now making a roaring advance. Didn’t they realize that their former silence was the best thing they had going for them? Coined “The angry white males,” they now had a chuckle head to dispel that negative moniker. He was perfect. If anything he said proved un-popularly gauche, he could always, believably say; “Just kidding. Can’t the liberals take a joke?” I wondered; “How long can this mean spirited stupidity possibly stand the light of day?” In a few seconds I got my answer; “As long as Americans think wallowing in that same stupidity is surface
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fashionable merriment and they sub-surface secretly agree with it.”
I got up and got my usual microwaveable breakfast and started “cooking” and making coffee. Rather than dwelling on the current state of national politics and opinion, I focused on things more important to me; “I had some money and I might be getting some pussy.”
I decided to gel out in the face of tonight’s activities.
I forgot about cards, money and schemes and took an inventory of the pictures hanging on the walls in my own house. The only one in the kitchen was a tiny one hanging over the fireplace, depicting a small yellow house with a gray thatched roof, sitting alone on an overgrown field of long sparse grass, a late fall or early spring sunny day. I stared at it for a few minutes as I found something about it stimulating.
I walked into the “living room” which contained the best furniture I had including a well done copy of a 1780 Queen Ann highboy and a copy of a 1760 Chippendale cross secretary. Both items are on the large side, but despite that, their styling was simple, elegant and graceful. The first picture I scrutinized looked like something from the fourteenth or fifteenth century.
It depicted a melancholy woman, sitting on a chair next to a table, which was host to a violin. She was holding and playing a lyre she held to her wistful head. The only other picture in
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the room was quite different, showing a large red barn on a treeless field, on another sunny early spring or fall day. This one was strange because it was made of some type of material. I wondered if the material was lightly stained, or if the artist stitched together threads made of the appropriate colors. If I had to make a guess as to what the three pictures revealed, it was a languid tranquility. I couldn’t be sure I this was an actuality or an ideal. Right now, if I had to guess, I would have to say an ideal.
I thought about meeting this eccentric Acheron. I was anxiously anticipating it, as since she was described as strange, the night should be interesting, at the very least.
Sometimes I think “strange” people are merely the ones with the nerve to exhibit their true self. Others either remain hidden.
I can’t imagine anyone actually that boring.
I’d been daydreaming a while, because I heard the grandfather clock in the room chime twelve times. It was already time for lunch, so I went back to the kitchen, sitting at the table, wondering what it was I wanted to eat. I had a thought, but was sure there wasn’t any of that here, so I settled for hamburgers, which I washed down with ice tea. The absolute silence in the house reminded me of some creepy movie I had seen about death. So, when I finished eating I went back to my well utilized couch, putting on the television to break the silence.
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I was in luck. I didn’t see anyone claiming to know everything or advertising the stupid book they had written to clue everyone else in. Rather than that I was pleased to see some game show full of happy, jumping, chirping people lusting after a win, which would enable them to have a one in eight chance of going home in a brand new, shiny four door dark brown Toyota.
The female contestant who got the hot shot was very disappointed not to be successful, hanging her head, only to be resurrected to bouncy mirth when the announcer reminded her and us that she should be very happy, as she would be taking home a new metallic refrigerator, a king sized waterbed and a year’s subscription to a fashion magazine, “all valued at a total of $2,000.” I knew the taxman would be waiting for her with forms backstage. I wondered if the operator of the game show would deliver the valuable merchandise, or if the lucky lady would be required to take possession backstage. The shows continued in this vein with minor deviation and somewhere along the line I must have fallen asleep.
I became one of the contestants on a game show requiring the pushing of a buzzer, which mimicked a fart. The rules were that as soon as one thought they knew the answer to a question the host read from a card, they sound the flatulent alarm and be permitted to display their brilliance. I really got into it,
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excitedly jamming my right hand against the appropriately sounding alarm as soon as possible. When I was too slow and was beaten by another contestant I grimaced and said things like
“Ooooh.” Apparently I did well enough to win, no accolade to me, as the other players blew the game by jumping on the button too quickly and being penalized for saying “Duh” to the answer.
Maybe they too liked making the rude noise. When I got my failing shot at winning the shiny new car, sat on by some babe in a bikini and high heels, I too showed visible sorrow. But the cheerful host reminded me that I “still had won $4,500,” not bad for an afternoon’s work. I liked the idea of cash and was quite jumpy and happy, especially because I didn’t want a new refrigerator or water bed. When I went to the appropriate place to retrieve my prize backstage, not only was I greeted by the taxman, but I was handed confederate money.
When I woke up it was already 5PM, so I dressed for the date. Rather than wearing my usual blue jeans and a light blue button up long sleeved shirt rolled up to the arm pits, I put on a pair of washed blue jeans and a washed light blue button up long sleeved shirt rolled up to the armpits. I looked at myself in a large mirror which towered above a bathroom double sink. I thought; “Well, this is going to have to do. Not all that bad, considering.......”
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I went out and got into my Toyota. I was to meet Butch at his house, then drive to the Flemington Hotel where we’d meet Alice and Acheron. I knew and liked the place. The hotel was a two story white clapboard 5000 sq. ft. Victorian building that was indeed once a hotel, but now housed retail stores in the basement; a restaurant on the first floor and God knows what on the second. It was in a fair degree of disrepair which enhanced its ambiance.
When I got to his house, Butch was sitting on a wooden outdoor chair near the front entranceway. I parked in his driveway, got out of the car and said; “I’m not late, am I?”
“No, man. I’m having a bad day and I just wanted to be in the fresh air.”
“What’s wrong?”
“My spirit seductress is back, pestering the shit out of me to drink more. And all day I’ve felt like I was going to puke any minute.”
“That could be funny. But try not to get it on the girls, or me for that matter.”
“I think I can handle that one. But, how am I going to get rid of the spirit?”
“Let me talk to her.”
“She won’t talk to you, or even show herself to you. She’s only mine.”
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“All right. Is she here now?”
“Yes.”
“If I say something to you, can you tell her what I said?”
“Probably.”
“And can you tell me her answer?”
“Maybe. But why? Are you good at making spirits disappear?”
“I don't know. I’ve never tried it before. It’s worth a shot.”
Butch saw her standing near them with a perturbed look on her face. Her long straight blond hair flowed over her long light blue dress, open at the front, exposing her un-tanned bare legs to the mid-thigh. She said; “I told you that I didn’t want to meet your friends.”
Butch said; “Well, leave then. I don’t care.”
I said; “What?”
Butch said; “Oh, I was talking to her.”
I said; “This could get confusing. Threes are always tricky even without one being silent and invisible.”
The spirit walked over to me and standing a foot from me said; “Don’t put yourself into any kind of threesome with me.”
After a few seconds Butch realized that I didn’t hear her and said; “She doesn’t want you in her threesome.”
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Both the genie and I started to speak at the same time, but not hearing her, I said; “I don’t want to be in a threesome with her, either. The genie of the beer bottle doth flatter herself.”
She said; “I didn’t say I wanted to be in any threesome at all, least of all with this jerk.”
Butch paraphrased for her; “She doesn’t want any kind of threesome.”
I said; “Good, we agree on one thing. But, in addition to that, she’s not even worthy of a twosome.”
She heard me and was annoyed for a number of unrelated reasons and said; “First of all, I’m not a beer bottle spirit. I inhabit some of the finest aged wines most of the time. And secondly, I already have a twosome with Butch. You don’t have a twosome with anybody, so who’s the unworthy one?”
Her words piqued Butch, beer his favorite beverage and rather than decoding the message to me, he responded directly to her and said; “Are you too refined to be a beer bottle spirit?
The only bottles I have around here, I suppose, are beneath your dignity.”
The spirit said; “I didn’t say that.”
Butch said; “Yes, you did. Why don’t you go pester one of your refined wine aficionados? I’m more of a beer drinking desperado, bitch.”
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I had lost track of the conversation, but what Butch had just said sounded good to me and I got an idea. I said; “How many times do you have to hear that Butch doesn’t want you?
Now, I’m a wine drinker, more your style and I could use the company. I’ll cancel this date and you can come with me.”
Butch interjected; “What the hell kind of shit are you trying to pull, Mr. Exalted Wino?”
I said; “Trust me on this one, Butch. Come on, pretty spirit. He doesn’t want you. I do.”
She was confused. She realized that she was not doing at all well with Butch, as of late and her ego was bruised. Maybe she should cut her losses and start a new project. For the first time, audibly to me, she said; “Do you really love lots of wine directly from the source?” Butch didn’t hear her.
She became visible to me and when I got a good look at her long exposed white legs, I responded with; “As far as I’m concerned, the source is always the best place to be.”
Butch said; “Now I can’t see her and I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I again said; “Trust me.”
The genie said; “He shouldn’t trust you. You’re a devil.”
I said; “He shouldn’t trust you, either. We’re cut from the same mold and we should be together.”
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She stared questioningly into my eyes. Her eyes softened and I cocked my head left, closed my eyes briefly, opened them, smiled and winked at her.
She said; “You’re a devious liar. I’m with you.”
For some strange reason Butch heard the last of her comments and was perplexed. He wanted to get rid of her, but didn’t want her taken by his best friend. He also didn’t like her attraction to lying or liars. He didn’t like his friend backing out of a date at the last minute. He didn’t know what to address first, so ignored all the specifics, got right to the point and said; “Ed, are you and me going to see the girls now, or not?”
The spirit answered for me and said; “Of course he’s not.
He’s with me, now.”
I corrected her, saying; “Butch, I’m with you and the girls. This bad dream can go back in her beer bottle, wine bottle, or piss bottle. I don’t care which. I just wanted you to clearly see what kind of fickle monster she is.”
Realizing that she had made a mistake, she stared coldly at both of us and said; “There are millions of jerks just like you two I can spend my time with.” She put her two middle fingers under her eyes, pulling down the skin, exposing the white of her eyeballs. Her entire eyes turned deep purple, then black and she disappeared.
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Butch and I looked at each other for a few seconds, neither sure of exactly what had just happened and both of us wondering if the other approved. He broke the silence and said; “I’ve been trying to get rid of her all day. It’s time to go meet the girls. Wait till you see Acheron.”
I said; “I can’t wait.”
“I’ll follow you in my car.”
“Two cars?”
“Sure, that’s what I told you. Maybe you’ll have to drive Acheron home.”
“All right, here we go.”
Butch went into the garage and brought out his 1972 bright purple Mustang. I followed him down the quiet wooded country back roads riding toward the declining early evening sun, the shadows coming directly at us.
We pulled into parking spaces right in front of the hotel, which sat ten feet from the street. I noticed that the proprietor of the basement level “Cat Store” was just closing up. He danced quickly away. I exited the car and looked in the window, wondering how someone could fill up a whole store with merchandise only for cats. There was no food, but every type of cat toy, cat facsimile, cat keychain, cat bed, cat game, VHS
tapes of cat movies, cat ashtrays, cat litter boxes, cat collars, cat harnesses, cat leashes, cat treats, etc., etc.,
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etc. I liked the place and planned to come back during store hours, desiring to get a closer look at some of the more realistic cat dolls.
Butch waited a few seconds for me and I eventually climbed the concrete stairs from the lower level and met him at the base of the white and gray painted wooden stairs leading to the
“first” level, home of the restaurant. We went up and he opened the door. Charlie the bartender was behind the bar and appeared to have already put away a few. He slightly slurred when he said; “Hey, Butch, where have you been?”
Butch replied; “I’ve been all over the place, but I think I’m back where I belong. What are you up to?”
Charlie said; “Same old. I’ve been kind of all over, too, but I don't know where the hell I belong. Who’s your friend?”
Butch said; “Oh, my apologies. This is Ed. He lives around here, too. We’re having a dinner date with Alice and Acheron.”
I walked over to Charlie and we shook hands. I said;
“Proud to meet you. I hear you mix a great drink.”
He said; “What can I get you?”
I asked for; “A double Jack Daniels and soda.”
Charlie smiled and affably said; “I guess you got stuck with Acheron.”
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I said; “I’m not stuck yet and I’m hoping that double will prepare me.”
Charlie turned away to retrieve and mix the appropriate bottles. I noticed that his disheveled body weaved a bit. He looked about my age, average height and build. The feature that most stayed with me was his balding head with the black hair left inordinately long in some spots, no doubt attempting to cover the bald spot. Now, it was hanging in his face and he regularly brushed it back with his right hand, only to have it fall back into his eyes, as if it were in the wind. He said;
“And you, Butch?”
Butch said; “I really shouldn’t, but I think I’d like a screwdriver.” Charlie nodded at us as we took seats at the previously unoccupied bar. He brought us our drinks and put them on coasters. He looked around the room quickly and then put his hands under the bar, picking up a medium sized bottle of something and taking a quick swig. He again surveyed the room, as he surreptitiously and quickly put the cap back on the bottle and then put it back in its hiding place.
I said; “Is it usually this empty this time of day?”
Charlie replied; “Yeah. We don’t get anywhere near the amount of customers we did when the economy was good. The place is in need of repair, too and maybe that makes some of the
‘upscale’ clientele seek other places.”
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He pointed at a wall painting in the area which housed the empty tables and chairs. It was a twelve by eight portrait of life in the area more than 100 years ago. There was a small white clapboard two story house with some post and rail fencing around it. Beyond were two horse drawn carriages traveling down a dirt road in opposite directions. Different types of trees, in full bloom, filled in the empty spaces. Charlie said; “It’s already starting to peel in many areas and a good restoration would be very expensive.”
I tritely said; “That’s too bad. It’s really nice.”
We made small talk for about five minutes, when we heard the front door open. Alice and Acheron entered apparently still carrying on a conversation that had been going on for some time.
Alice said; “Just stop it. You’ll be just fine.”
Acheron said: “That’ll be a first.”
Alice said; “I give up. Just be yourself.”
Acheron said; “What’s that, in your estimation?”
The two female compatriots saw Butch, Charlie and me at the bar and were quiet for a few moments, just standing still about fifteen feet away from us. I got my first look at both of them.
Alice was about 35, with long honey blond hair parted in the middle, covering part of her round pretty face. She was wearing a fancy orange short sleeved blouse and a knee length black loose dress, displaying some of the meat on her 5’5”, 150 pound
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frame. Acheron was another story. She fidgeted around, eyeballing us with what seemed to be trepidation. Her medium length black straight hair did not touch her white shoulders.
She wore a sleeveless purple tight shirt containing a white drawing of and the name Allman Brothers. Under that was a baggy pair of black high-water pants, containing two inch wide lines running from her small hips to her calves, one red and one lavender. Overall, the first impression I got was punky.
We quickly guzzled the last of our drinks. Butch and I got up from our seats and walked over to them. He gave Alice a light kiss on the cheek and a hug. He said; “I guess you figured this out already, but this is Ed. Ed, this is Alice and Acheron.” I first shook hands with Alice and then realized that I didn’t know how to greet Acheron. A handshake seemed silly and a kiss too bold. In my hesitation Acheron extended her right hand to me and when I didn’t immediately take it, she quickly pulled it back, raised both of her arms to the ceiling and said; “I don’t shave my armpits.” Only I laughed. The thick curly black hair prompted me to say; “Reminds me of something, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.”
No doubt wanting to create a diversion, Alice said; “Butch, I can smell it on your breath. Don’t tell me you’re at it again.” She gave me a weird look.
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Butch winced and said; “Oh, Alice, don’t start off the night with that. I’m doing fine and I’m celebrating yesterday’s gambling haul. I’m not having another.”
Alice said; “You’re gambling, too?”
Butch just sighed and said; “Oh, man.”
Acheron finally put her arms back down by her sides and I smiled at her and said; “I like,” and put my arms around her waist and gave her a brief hug. I let go. She bent her knees the slightest bit and made a small smile, which I interpreted as relief mixed with feeling pleased. I was compelled to add; “I really dig natural women. Are you all wool and a yard wide?”
Acheron was familiar with the phrase, which kind of means not artificial or not disguised, with an implied reference to carnality. She raised her eyebrows, blinked and opened her mouth to speak, when Alice, who along with Butch, did not know the phraseology, beat her to the punch and loudly said; “Is a table reserved for us?”
Charlie stepped out from behind the bar and said; “It looks like the waitress either didn’t show up or quit. Let me take you to your table. Butch and Ed have indeed reserved a special one for you.” He led us through the empty room. All the tables and chairs were identical. The tables, whatever they were made of, were covered with red and white checkered tablecloths which had seen better days. The chairs were comprised of some black
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iron mangling with plush seats attached thereto with two ties to the gorgeous frames. They too were stoically crying for their glorious youth. Their shapes and textures varied in each, perhaps the result of a series of garage sales. When we got to the appointed spot toward the back of the room Charlie graciously made a sweeping gesture with his left hand, simultaneously half-bowing and said; “The best in the house,”
and walked slowly back to the bar, his footsteps magnified by the silence.
Acheron was the first to seat herself, lodging her frame in the cushioned twisted metal monstrosity with the best view of the peeling fresco. The rest of us took lesser places, though by chance I, too, could get a view of the colored remnant, if I turned my head to the right. I was between Acheron and Alice, across from Butch.
The tone for the evening was set, at least in my mind and probably Acheron’s. So rather than engaging in the customary socializing chit-chat, my double Jack Daniels prompted me to pursue what was interrupted and said; “Acheron, do you have any other unique body parts you’d like to share with the group?”
Acheron grinned and responded; “Of course I have other unique body parts, but I’m not interested in group activities.”
I surprised myself when I said; “How about a private showing, later? Maybe I can show you something unique.”
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Acheron laughed, looked at Alice and said; “Get me some of what he’s been drinking.”
Not being directly rebuked, I was encouraged and continued, saying; “I’ll assume that means yes.”
Acheron reached out her right hand and put it on my thigh under the table, saying; “Hold your drawers on, baby. The night is still young.”
I nodded at her, making a small smile. I noticed for the first time that Acheron had a somewhat unusual face. Her features were pretty, especially the two large blue eyes which took attention away from her thin straight nose and full lips, which covered the pale white skin. There was no makeup of any sort. Her black shoulder length hair was parted in the middle and some type of gel must have been used to, more or less, flatten it out.
Alice was visibly annoyed and said to Acheron; “You spent days worrying about how to act on a date and this is the best you came up with?”
Acheron was surprised, didn’t appreciate the public chastisement and responded to Alice; “I took your brilliant advice and am behaving, as opposed to acting, naturally. What’s your fucking problem with that?”
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Alice stumbled over some words; “Well, you know there is something to be said for propriety. I don't know if I want to participate in rude behavior.”
Acheron was defiantly encouraged and rather than responding to her friend, looked my way and asked; “Ed, do you want to extend your participation?”
I saw the game. Acheron was trying to show up Alice for having been upbraided. Though I was startled, I definitely wanted to be on Acheron’s side and continue our play. I stuck out my tongue and said; “Most assuredly.”
Acheron smiled, looked to Alice and said; “See. Now if you’d like to act properly somewhere else, that would be fine with me and probably Ed.”
I unsuccessfully tried to look noncommittal and was at a loss for words. I gently nodded my head once in Acheron’s direction.
Alice leaned forward aggressively and loudly said to Acheron; “Why do you always have to start something stupid?”
She paused and looked around the still empty room and added; “I hope no one else is listening to this.”
Acheron was now on a roll; “Let me respond to that in reverse order. Someone else is always listening, whether you see them or not. And if starting ‘something stupid’ is a crime, why isn’t everyone in jail?”
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Butch seemed to go out of his way to sound calm and said;
“This is getting very weird. I think Alice and I should find some excuse to go elsewhere.”
Acheron answered for Alice; “No problem for me. I get disgusted hearing generalistic instructions from people who don't know what they’re talking about, contradict themselves and then expect MY apology. The best thing anyone has ever done for me is to give me benign neglect, but I suppose I’m asking too much.”
Butch stood up and took Alice by the arm. She, too, rose, with a bewildered and bombarded look on her face and silently started to walk away with Butch, who said; “Acheron, you’re stuck with Ed. Alice and I are going to get our sustenance at the bowling alley.” They walked past Charlie, at the bar, who just cocked his head to the side, saying; “I hope it’s not due to the high quality service. We lost our four star rating last week.”
Butch smiled and said; “I can’t imagine why you would lose your stars. Alice just remembered that she had a prior date with her etiquette books.”
Alice was previously befuddled. Now she was out and out confused and did not appreciate Butch’s tone. She managed a neutral tone and told Butch; “I’ll go in my car. You can go in yours.” No neutrality was evident when she was motivated to
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take one last parting shot at Acheron; “Don’t ever ask my advice if you have no intention of following it.”
Sounding very bored, Acheron mumbled; “You told me to be myself, Miss Uptight.” Butch and Alice traversed the rest of the distance to the door with her mouthing incoherent sentence fragments and him trying to hold and calm her with no success.
They were gone.
Acheron and I listened to the one-sided “conversation” and she said to me; “Butch was right.”
I looked at her dumbfounded, trying to recall what he said.
She added; “I am stuck with you. I came in Alice’s car.”
I laughed and said; “I’ll do my best not to make you feel stuck.”
She extended her lips and made a little kiss in my direction, saying; “For a unique body part.”
I didn’t have any witty comeback, so I put my hand on her thigh, made a similar air kiss and said; “For a number of unique body parts.”
Charlie walked over to us with a broad grin, pushed the errant hair out of his eyes with a toss of the head; and knowingly gave us the straight line; “Do you two know what you’d like to eat?”
We both warmly smiled, looking at each other and then him.
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He continued; “I’m serious. I’m going to be your waitress tonight. The other one must have quit, but nobody’s been here to notice. First, can I get you something to drink?”
I said; “Can we have a bottle of red wine?” looking at Acheron for approval, which she indicated with a silent nod.
“Anything particular?” Charlie asked.
“The sweetest,” I replied.
He went back to the bar.
I said; “When you said that stuff before, I thought I met my soul mate. People are always making some kind of rules or giving advice to me. If I can decipher their codes correctly, I follow the inconsistent stupid rule and then they make me feel obliged to apologize for purposely misconstruing their double talking nonsense. I can’t tolerate that very long. Butch isn’t like that and I’m sure you’re not either.”
She put her hand on mine and said; “I’m so glad you said that. I know I took a chance on saying what I did, but I decided that I’m getting too old to keep trying to wade through the bullshit, bored to death. No rules, right?”
I said; “Only one. Sex at least once a day.”
She smiled, but looked away from me. Her gaze was directed at the ceiling, still smiling, with a number of lascivious thoughts appearing simultaneously, reminiscent of a merry go
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round. I followed her eyes to the same point up high and saw the same horses prancing.
Charlie came back with the bottle and two glasses, pouring it for us. He said; “Seriously, I’m the only one working tonight. So, I’m also going to be your cook. Are hamburgers with all the trimmings all right?”
Acheron said; “More than all right.”
I nodded; “Yes.”
He went through a double door leading to another room, presumably the kitchen.
I picked up my glass and extended my arm toward her. She elevated her glass and we intended to make a gentle clink, but first we came up short, causing both of us to lurch our missiles forward, resulting in a collision and much spilled wine on the tablecloth.
We both laughed, trying to minimize the damage by moving our glasses away from the other’s and steadying our hands. I said; “Two of a kind.” She raised her dark eye brows, causing her beautiful blue eyes to get even larger. She said; “I hope they don’t make us pay for the damage.”
“Not us. Me. This is my treat. Butch and I won $21,000
apiece at a card game last night.” Acheron’s silence told me that she might not be interested in my impressive recount of the story. She might even think it to be a lot of crap, so I
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attempted to get back in her comfortable territory, saying; “One of my favorite behavioral patterns is when people persist in doing me some unasked for and un-needed favor. After I offer the obligatory thank you’s, then they act as if I owe them something.”
Acheron said; “I can twist that a little. I ask someone for a favor. Of course their deepest instincts take over, not wanting to be chump enough to do anyone any good, so they do it incorrectly and uselessly. Then after I say thank you, thank you, just to end the charade, they act as if I owe them something.”
“Do you pay them back?”
She took a sip of wine, smiled and facetiously said; “In fucking full.”
Not certain of the sarcasm used, I straightly said; “Why bother?”
“Value judgment. On days more boring than most, I amuse myself by doing something incorrectly and of no value for them.”
I feigned horror, widened my eyes and said; “Oh, no.
You’re being socialized.”
“I said on a very boring day.”
I laughed as did she, but seriously added; “Isn’t that dangerous? They could be totally confused at that point. They couldn’t be sure if you were useless or adept at their game.”
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“That’s the beauty of it. That’s their problem. To me the simplicity is that it’s not an either/or question. I’m both, at that time.”
“How about when something like this happens? Some boring pretentious ass continually parks himself near you and if you make the mistake of saying something to him, he makes stupid boring cryptic comments or is insulting.”
“I can add to that one too. He requires me to speak about his boring subject of interest and even if I deign to accommo-date him, he then informs me that he is busy and has to leave.
How “busy” he was, continually parking his ass next to me, is apparently obvious to me, but not him.” Acheron made a “duh”
face.
I laughed and said; “At least you get rid of him.”
“It works every time. I’m waiting for the day when someone programs the computer to say boring, stupid, incorrect things.
Then everyone can cut the sham and no longer pretend to need people. Their quota of required stupidity can be met, with the touch of a finger.”
I said; “Am I ever glad you decided to be yourself. I hate to imagine what might be going on now if you passed Alice’s subject of deportment. We’d probably all be nervously sitting here, not knowing what to say next, considering each important sentence in the context of not accidentally insulting anyone
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present and consequently getting a headache. Have you read any good books lately?”
“No, have you?”
“Sort of. I saw a book titled ‘ Fuck It’. Its subtitle was
‘Everything You Needed to Know about Psychiatry’.”
“Well, what did you think of it?”
“I liked it a lot. Of course I didn’t read it, as the author told me that ‘Fuck It’ was all I needed to know.”
“You also need to know that the best hamburgers ever served to anyone are now at your disposal and you don’t even owe me a favor,” said Charlie, as he delivered two plates with the hugest hamburgers either of us had ever seen. Trimmings were as promised, all of the, and it included ketchup, lettuce, tomatoes, bacon, cheese, peppers, mushrooms and some hidden riders. Charlie said; “Enjoy it,” and returned to the bar hearing genuine and simultaneous thank you’s.
We both gazed at the culinary prizes, realizing the importance of and the difficulties presented by sheer size.
I said; “I just pick them up with my hands and shove them in my face.”
“Fantastic, me too.”
“Oh great.” I cheerily said; “Can I give you some benign neglect later?”
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She smiled, thought for a few seconds and then said; “Sure, as long as I can give you some benign neglect too.”
We both put our faces in our super-burgers and ate heartily gathering remnants of all the trimmings on our cheeks. We finished the wine bottle at the same time we finished our meal, leaned back in our chairs and smiled at each other.
She said; “Want to try some normal conversation for a while?”
“Not really.”
“Oh, come on. What do you splendidly do for a living?
What kind of car do you have? What’s the highest degree you’ve obtained? And dare I say, will you allude to the value of your house and your holdings of liquid assets?”
I just laughed and leaned forward in my seat, putting my hands on the table and folding them in mock consternation. I said; “I’m going to utilize the excuse of having had too much to drink to evade that question or group of questions. Frankly, I don’t have any good jocular retort.”
“Who said the answer had to be jocular?”
“Well, at least it requires normal evasiveness.”
“So, be normally evasive.”
“It’s hard. The normal part throws me. I really only know the answer to one of those questions. So, I can’t quite grasp the concept of being evasive to a zero. You’ll soon see my car.
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It’s a late model high end of the line Toyota and we better get to it quickly. I’ve drunken so much that I can feel the wave getting larger and we ought to get to your place before I puke.”
Acheron got serious; “I don’t want you puking in my house.
If you have to do it, do it elsewhere.”
“It’s not like I have a choice about it. I’d rather not do it here. Maybe the waves will go over the top while I’m driving and then I’ll heave ho on the side of the road.”
“You can let me drive. I’m okay.”
I said; “Fooled you. I accomplished normally evasive small talk. I’m not going to puke at all.........At least I don’t think so. But I don’t mind having you drive at all.”
“Let me stop in the bathroom first. You should go too.”
When Acheron stood up, her left knee buckled and she fell right on the floor. I just looked at her, wondering if I should drive after all.
She started laughing and said; “See what happens when I try to be ‘normal’? Now get over here and help me up.”
I said; “I’ll do better than that. I’ll give you the best benign neglect you’ve ever had.”
We eventually got to the bathrooms, collected our thoughts and washed our faces. Charlie was now acting as the checkout person behind the cash register. When he gave me the bill, I added something to it for the waitress and bartender and gave
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him my credit card. We all said; “Good night, see you soon, my pleasure, etc., etc.” Acheron and I exited the front door and successfully made it down the steps to street level. I led her to my high end Toyota and took the driver’s seat. When she didn’t object, merely letting herself in the front passenger side, I took full control of the vehicle inserting my specially headed key. She said; “I live in Glen Gardner.”
After we drove out of well-lit Victorian Flemington, we passed through the unlit and now dark townships between us and our destination. The night air seemed to clear our heads somewhat and we rode with wide open windows, the equivalent of a gale caressing our puffy faces.
When we got to Glen Gardner she directed me through the streets to her townhouse. I parked right in front. She got out, taking a chain of keys from her pocket, picked the appropriate one and inserted it in the lock. I said nothing, just following behind her. When she entered she reached for a light switch on the wall and I closed the door behind me.
“Do you want something to eat?” she said.
I paused a few seconds trying to think of the best possible answer, trying to remember and hence take into consideration, whether or not we were still behaving “normally,” how redundant did I want to risk being and did I want to miss a possible closing line. I decided to go the “normal” route and said;
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“Yes, I could stand another hamburger.” I took a seat on the blue couch and eyeballed the room a bit, enough to glean the general disarray. I liked it. It was her. She said; “I don’t have any hamburgers. How about a TV dinner? I probably won't start a fire with that.”
“Fine with me,” I said. “When did you ever start a fire?”
“Ah, a couple of times I really tried to cook something and stupid things happened.” She got a TV dinner out of the freezer, put it in the microwave and then sat by me on the couch. We sat there quietly a few minutes, having nothing new to say. I finally and deftly ventured; “I’m a bit of a slob, too. I can’t remember the last time I cleaned up my place.”
“I should quibble with you about the word ‘slob,’ but I won’t. I sometimes work at the ‘Last Chance Groceries’ store down the road and after standing for eight hours, smiling at and discussing the weather with the chatty patrons who require constant, boring meaningless babble, I don’t feel up to doing anything when I get back.”
“Did you grow up around here?”
“No, I grew up all over the miserable planet. I made a two year stop around here when I was thirteen. It was the only place I liked, so I came back here when I was old enough.”
“Do you still like it?”
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“Yeah, I just wish I didn’t have to go to the ‘Last Chance’
so often.”
“Do you like picnics?”
“Sure, but I haven’t been on one in some time.”
“How about you and I have one real soon?”
“Okay, I’d like that. But, who’s going to bring the microwave and power source?”
“I’ll get the food from some store.”
The microwave made three beeps and she got up to retrieve my dinner. When she brought it over, I saw that she had selected a shrimp medley for me. It was a good choice. She handed it to me, including a fork in the package deal. It was still hot, so I quickly put it on the floor. She laughed, saying; “Well, I did pretty good. No house fire, just a little scalding.”
“I’ve been scalded much worse than this before. I think I’ll survive this one with minimal complaint.”
“You know, Ed, I’m feeling so relaxed with you, it’s great.
I can’t remember the last time that happened. I hope I don’t fall asleep.”
I laughed, saying; “I, too hope not. The wine is now giving me a warm contented feeling. Come to think of it, it’s probably not only the wine. It’s you, too.”
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I slowly ate my shrimp, occasionally glancing her way. She slumped in the seat and leaned against me, staring at something in the ceiling. After I finished my meal, getting my breath very fishy in the process, I put an arm around her, leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, then on the mouth, etc., etc.
Benign neglect ensued.
When I woke up to daylight the next morning I was in her bed, but she wasn’t. Mercifully, no television or radio program was heard. She came back in the room dressed in her work clothes, a simple blouse and blue jeans. She said; “I have to go do my act at the grocery.”
“Isn’t it Saturday or something?”
“I’m not sure myself, but I know that I have to get there anyway.” She turned around to leave, stopped, turned back and added; “Stay as long as you like and don’t forget about our picnic.” She again started to leave when I said; “I need your phone number.”
She said; “It’s on the phone. Leave me yours by it.” This time her attempt at leaving was successful and I heard the front door close. I got up and walked to the front window and watched her walk down the street a few moments. She walked with her head down, watching the sidewalk. For some reason I didn’t feel comfortable being in her house alone, so I quickly readied
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myself to go home, dawdling only to get her number and leave mine. I drove home.
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