Archives for the month of: June, 2012

Donna Louise here putting off cleaning the bathroom. I’ve vacuumed all the rooms, scrubbed the kitchen floor and put away all the papers and books…well, sort of, if you count putting them in the spare bedroom. It’ll be a miracle if I can ever find anything again.

Mikey found me a new used-car on Craig’s List. The little old lady who owned it only drove it on Sundays to her church a block away. She wanted $2000 but Mikey gave her a thousand plus an unregistered handgun. He picked it up last Sunday after the woman returned from church services.

He wouldn’t tell me what make or model the car was. “If you don’t like it, I’ll keep it and trick it out for a cool ride. But if you want it, you pay me the thousand and we’re even. Okay?”

“What about the gun you gave her? I don’t think you should give unregistered guns to people you meet on Craig’s List. What if she wants to kill someone?”

“You worry too much. She was a nice old lady from the sound of her voice. I’m looking forward to meeting her.”

That was Sunday afternoon and I didn’t see Mikey on Sunday, but he did call to yesterday afternoon to say he was bringing the car to me. “She’s bitchin’ boss.”

When he slips into slang I don’t understand a word he’s saying. “What time will you be here?”

“I’m headed east on 39th Street. I’ll turn down our street in about five minutes. Go down to the street and wait in the driveway with you eyes closed. Now promise me you’ll close your eyes. I want this to be a big surprise.”

When I hung up the phone, I did as I had been instructed. I felt kinda silly standing next to the street with my eyes closed, but men are so sensitive when their surprises are spoiled and Mikey had done all the work.

I heard a car come down the street and stop in front of me. A door opened and shut. I waited for him to say, “Open your eyes.”

All I heard was someone walk up to me. A needle pricked my arm and I opened my eyes in surprise and yelled, “What in the hell?”

Elvira Sussman of WICKED smiled. “Got you, bitch.”

The drug took effect. I couldn’t focus. I staggered backwards trying to get away. I only went a few steps before I fell. I heard her say, “Get out here and help me get her in the trunk, you idiots.”

Elvira lacks people skills.

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Donna Louise here deciding if I should have a yard sale. I don’t have room for all these things I have collected. The house looks lovely—well, all of the house except the spare bedroom which now contains all the stuff I have nowhere to put. Everyone needs a junk room, don’t they?

Life sends me lessons to learn and standing on the street in Westport face-to-face with Sylvester Pomeroy was a fear lesson. I couldn’t move. Sylvester jerked his arm out of my hand, nodded as if I’d made a mistake and walked east on Westport Road as if nothing was wrong.

When I saw how casually he was acting, my spunkiness kicked in. I handed my bag to Sean. “I’ll be right back.”

I tore through the crowd. When Sylvester saw me coming after him, he took off running, but I caught up with him. He went down in the crosswalk at Broadway. If I’d had a rope, he would have been hogtied in nothing flat. I was mad.

The north-south lights changed and next thing I knew I’m staring at the grill of some foreign car as people around me screamed, “Get out of the street, you f*cking bitch.” Now really, has common courtesy vanished from contemporary American society?

Sylvester, realizing everyone thought I was the troublemaker, yelled, “Help me. She’s crazy.”

The person who said, “Never yell ‘Help’ because people won’t pay any attention” has obviously never been in Westport on a Saturday night.

I felt hands lifting me off Sylvester. These drunk guys with testosterone poisoning were saying things like, “Leave the dude alone, babe” and “Work this sh*t out at home, not in public.”

“But the guy’s a murderer. Call the police.” I might as well have been talking to a bunch of stones.

“The cops are comin’. Leave the dude alone.”

Arnie and Sean waded into the crowd of men holding me. “We’re her friends. We’re here with her medications.”

“I don’t need medications. I need a police officer to arrest that man.” I pointed to an empty space in the crosswalk. The creep had gotten away.

Sean, Arnie and I went to the Japanese restaurant for dinner. They wanted to take me home or to their place and not eat. I refused to run home and hide. “No, let’s have dinner and I’ll explain everything to you.”

By the end of my story, with a good meal under my belt and some hot sake, I felt much better. I had stood up for myself and that made me proud.