51
R. Linda:
Me new neighbour is driving me up a pole! I should tell you her name because I have had a hard time with it meself. She calls herself Argie. I haven't known her well enough to ask her if that's the whole of it, or is there more, until recently it got the better of me. I bedevil meself at times and should know not to let me thoughts go in the direction they do. However, out of curiosity I asked her if Argie was her full first name and if not what it stood for?
She said her name was Argiebelle. Her father (during her birth) had a word come to him and when The Word hit he used it as a mantra. Yes, the man is a hippy person from the 70s and he hasn't changed a tad. Seems as if my neighbour was being born, not only did The Word strike his LSD'd brain, but a bell rang at the same time signalling lunch at the compound. There you have it: Argiebelle!
I guess it could be worse, Tinkerbell does rattle the innards of my brain cells to laughing. But with a straight face, I listened to this discourse on naming babies of hippy parents and mumbled something stupid like, "Aw, isn't that sweet."
After the non-date-watching horror flicks Saturday, Argie's been ringing me to make sure I was still going to that Tinkerbell party she has me roped into. I would reassure her I had set aside the evening and would be ready to go. An hour later she rang me up again to ask me if I had a favourite character from the Peter Pan story. I stupidly said Peter Pan (which I told her the last time she asked me) because for the life of me I cannot remember who is in the story but Mr. Pan himself. Foolish me, I should have realised there was more to the question than mild curiosity.
An hour later, there was a knock at me door and I heard footsteps scampering down the stairs and there as I opened the door there was empty air. Except for one thing. At me feet is a Peter Pan hat with a feather. There is a note attached and it says, "Dear Gabriel, Here is a start for your costume. I made it myself, if it doesn't fit let me know."
Unhappily, I went inside and tried it on and damn it, it fit! I rang her up to say how creative she was and how nice of herself to think of me. Sigh.
It gets worse. The very next day, I crept up me back staircase and that bloody pig/dog started barking and howling. She came running out to catch me running up the stairs as fast as me legs would carry me. "Gabriel," she shouted. I had no recourse but to stop and sheepishly look over the railing at her. I gave her a small wave of me hand like nothing was wrong and slowly, like a condemned man, started me way down to her, cursing the pig/dog under me breath.
As I got nearer, I could see she had her hands behind her back and the dumbest smile on her face. I knew then and there that something was up. Meanwhile, Piglet was barking his fool head off and the sound was reverberating in the hall. I wanted to throw me hands over me ears and shout, "Tell that fecking mutt to shut the feck up!" But of course, I didn't.
Argie whipped out a pair of spring green tights and shook them up in front of her.
"Hope these are your size," says she in a sing-song voice. "I lucked out, guess where I found them?"
Oh no, I be thinking, not at the Salvation Army Store. Begorrah me, but I won't be wearing someone else's tights AND I don't wear tights!. But fool me, didn't want to hurt her feelings so I took them by two fingers and held them out away from me.
"Uh, they're just the thing," I blurt, the stupid arse I am.
"Ok, you take them up and I'll find the rest of the costume. You leave it to me totally, Gabe."
And off she went, the snorting Piglet bouncing down the hall after her, its claws hitting the wood in a pitter-patter.
For a quick second, I wanted to dash out to the dustbin in the back and toss the awful tights, but what if she saw me from the window? Reluctantly I went up to me apartment holding them way out from me person. I said prayers to all the saints that no one came out and saw me. Lucky I was, no one did.
What am I going to do? I can't get out of this and by God, I'll be damned if I'm wearing a Peter Pan costume in public.
Gabe
Copyright © 2004 All rights reserved
R. Linda:
Me new neighbour is driving me up a pole! I should tell you her name because I have had a hard time with it meself. She calls herself Argie. I haven't known her well enough to ask her if that's the whole of it, or is there more, until recently it got the better of me. I bedevil meself at times and should know not to let me thoughts go in the direction they do. However, out of curiosity I asked her if Argie was her full first name and if not what it stood for?
She said her name was Argiebelle. Her father (during her birth) had a word come to him and when The Word hit he used it as a mantra. Yes, the man is a hippy person from the 70s and he hasn't changed a tad. Seems as if my neighbour was being born, not only did The Word strike his LSD'd brain, but a bell rang at the same time signalling lunch at the compound. There you have it: Argiebelle!
I guess it could be worse, Tinkerbell does rattle the innards of my brain cells to laughing. But with a straight face, I listened to this discourse on naming babies of hippy parents and mumbled something stupid like, "Aw, isn't that sweet."
After the non-date-watching horror flicks Saturday, Argie's been ringing me to make sure I was still going to that Tinkerbell party she has me roped into. I would reassure her I had set aside the evening and would be ready to go. An hour later she rang me up again to ask me if I had a favourite character from the Peter Pan story. I stupidly said Peter Pan (which I told her the last time she asked me) because for the life of me I cannot remember who is in the story but Mr. Pan himself. Foolish me, I should have realised there was more to the question than mild curiosity.
An hour later, there was a knock at me door and I heard footsteps scampering down the stairs and there as I opened the door there was empty air. Except for one thing. At me feet is a Peter Pan hat with a feather. There is a note attached and it says, "Dear Gabriel, Here is a start for your costume. I made it myself, if it doesn't fit let me know."
Unhappily, I went inside and tried it on and damn it, it fit! I rang her up to say how creative she was and how nice of herself to think of me. Sigh.
It gets worse. The very next day, I crept up me back staircase and that bloody pig/dog started barking and howling. She came running out to catch me running up the stairs as fast as me legs would carry me. "Gabriel," she shouted. I had no recourse but to stop and sheepishly look over the railing at her. I gave her a small wave of me hand like nothing was wrong and slowly, like a condemned man, started me way down to her, cursing the pig/dog under me breath.
As I got nearer, I could see she had her hands behind her back and the dumbest smile on her face. I knew then and there that something was up. Meanwhile, Piglet was barking his fool head off and the sound was reverberating in the hall. I wanted to throw me hands over me ears and shout, "Tell that fecking mutt to shut the feck up!" But of course, I didn't.
Argie whipped out a pair of spring green tights and shook them up in front of her.
"Hope these are your size," says she in a sing-song voice. "I lucked out, guess where I found them?"
Oh no, I be thinking, not at the Salvation Army Store. Begorrah me, but I won't be wearing someone else's tights AND I don't wear tights!. But fool me, didn't want to hurt her feelings so I took them by two fingers and held them out away from me.
"Uh, they're just the thing," I blurt, the stupid arse I am.
"Ok, you take them up and I'll find the rest of the costume. You leave it to me totally, Gabe."
And off she went, the snorting Piglet bouncing down the hall after her, its claws hitting the wood in a pitter-patter.
For a quick second, I wanted to dash out to the dustbin in the back and toss the awful tights, but what if she saw me from the window? Reluctantly I went up to me apartment holding them way out from me person. I said prayers to all the saints that no one came out and saw me. Lucky I was, no one did.
What am I going to do? I can't get out of this and by God, I'll be damned if I'm wearing a Peter Pan costume in public.
Gabe
Copyright © 2004 All rights reserved
