101
R. Linda:
All right, here it is. Half the reason I haven't been writing is me being busy at work (fretting); the other half is me heart has been recuperating from a near-fatal heart attack brought on by the one and only Argiebelle.
Oh yes, it has been an experience that I could not recount without feeling fear, then anger, then frustration, and finally, the unbelievable knowledge that I could murder Argie without any regrets.
Ok, here is what happened. As you know, 'tis the season to be jolly, and forget the fa la la la la because we are beyond that. Me boss from work owns a Cadillac DeVille, a sweet motor if ever there was one. It is black with a suede top and just the right amount of gold trim to look luxurious. I had seen said car in the parking garage of me work building enough to have admired it as a true black beauty.
It comes to pass that one night a month or so ago, yours truly was working a wee bit of overtime, and the lovely lady who is me boss stopped by me cubicle and offered me a ride to me home. Well, it being late, I wasn't sure what buses were running, if any, and I could have walked the distance, but seeing I was getting an opportunity to ride in a warm, sleek, and shiny black mobile, I took her up on it.
Off we went, and what a smooth ride it was. When she saw where I lived, she seemed impressed I had an 'address' in a good neighbourhood. Of course, I didn't know I had an address, but all the same, if it impressed her and she was happy, then all was good with me world. Yes, it was me boss's car I had been salivating over all these months.
A few days ago, she told me she needed her lovely auto serviced and since I had a slow day and she did not, would I mind running it to the garage and she'd pay me fare back. Well, I be an accommodating sort, I be, so this I did. Meanwhile, she found out she was to be called away on business, would I mind picking the auto up and keeping it until her return? Seems she did not trust the garage for long-term care, and she'd make it worth me while to keep it for her.
I agreed, I mean, why not? I live in a safe neighbourhood, Boston isn't Belfast. She even told me I could drive it about if I had a mind too, you know, keep the engine in running order, the battery from sitting idle and dying, that sort of thing. Of course, I didn't mind keeping the car, but driving it about did give me pause. I wasn't going to take a chance because everyone who knows Boston knows you cannot drive a pretty car without someone banging into you.
There she was, black beauty parked at me curb. Me Super even kept an eye on her when I was at work. The whole building admired that lovely thing and everyone was impressed that I had obviously got a raise in salary! I had to explain over and over what the deal was.
Now, you would think that knowing the car was in me care and not me own motor, no one in their right mind would ask me to drive them someplace in it. Especially when I voiced me concern to not have anything happen to it, after all it was me boss's car.
Everyone honoured that except one person. Ah, yes, indeed, Tinkerbelle could not see why I could keep it around without zooming about the city in it. I pretty much ignored her requests to go sightseeing in the "touring car" until one night, I was sitting up in me digs with Tonya, watching LOST on the telly. We had popcorn going, soda and cashews in each hand when that awful sound upon me door happened. Yes, that tap tap tap ratta tap!
Tonya, with a mouthful of cashews, says in a theatrical whisper, "Gabe, someone is knocking at your door."
She knew fully well who it was. And how uncomfortable that made me, and she was laughing so hard she nearly choked on the mouthful of nuts.
Me hand flew over her back as she struggled to breathe, I pounded her until she was able to swallow, all the time the rapping on me door was getting louder. I damn well did not want Argie in me apartment and all the loud choking of Tonya did me no good because next thing I hear is, "Come on Gabe, I know you're in there and so is T."
T is what she calls Tonya because it's better than Omarosa. Tonya stood there, eyes watering and red from the near-death experience, and I stood there biting me tongue. "Go, you have no choice," Tonya said hoarsely, rubbing her throat.
I let in the wee Tinkerbelle person very reluctantly, cutting out the pig dog's entry as I have become adept at doing. I did manage to squeeze the door on his nose, and he yipped as I shut it. As usual, Argie was looking behind her like where was Piggy.
"What's up?" I asked, irritated.
"Oh goody, there you go, Gabriel, always assuming the worst." Argie had hands-on diminutive hips, tapping feathery pink slippers on me floor impatiently. It was then I realised she was dressed in short baby doll pajama's like me mam used to wear as a teenager (yes, I've seen the pictures and ooh, not good). Worst of all, they were bright neon pink. Once I got past the glare, I began to ask, "Where on earth did you get . . . " was all I got out of me mouth because Tonya stepped up and asked in her now husky (thanks to the choking on cashews) voice, how we could be of service to Argie. Oh, so polite, I wanted to puke.
"I need a ride to the deli. NOW."
We both stood there looking at her like we didn't understand because we didn't. A place to hide from the fashion police, yeah, I could understand THAT.
"I ordered this platter for my gallery showing tomorrow, and I have to pick it up tonight for tomorrow because I won't have time tomorrow, and I need to go get it now, like tonight."
"Wearing that?" We both said in unison, but then Tonya stood up to the plate because I was not able to; the glare was making me dizzy.
"Argie, why do you need us? You have the mini car." Tonya pointed this reasonable detail out, and I quipped that it was a good point.
"Vito is dead," Argie stated.
Tonya and I had no idea who Vito was and then Argie explained that was the name she gave her mini.
"Come on, Gabe, you have that car out there, help a girl out," she whined at me.
"I'd let her borrow the VW, but Alison has it to take Mrs. Castor to the dentist," Tonya shrugged. Then suddenly, she had Mrs. McGraw's car keys in me hand and was pushing me out the door. She hates Argiebelle's whining, and I knew that was why I was suddenly holding keys; it was the only way to shut Argie up. I muttered things like not wanting to be seen with some fruitcake in her nightie and what would people think, that I would be viewed as pimp daddy and oh me god, if they heard about this at work . . .
Tonya told me to calm down, watch out for the pig dog under me feet, and no one would see us. Besides, it was Argie getting out of the car. We were just along for the drive to the deli. I was happy she was coming along because, really, I didn't want to be alone with the midget in the jammies.
I was nervous about driving that car; yes, I was. But I got behind the wheel, kicking the pig dog from getting in with me. I put the key in the ignition, and black beauty roared to life and settled into a smooth purr. I put that baby in gear and eased her onto the main street, the pig dog sitting dejectedly on the curb, watching us drive away. Off we went, with Argie giving directions in between chatter about her gallery showing. Me head had begun to swim, and I wished I was deaf.
All was well driving-wise until we got onto I-93, which is a multi-lane highway where the speed limit is nothing under 100 mph. We were whizzing along, with me asking Argie where on earth the deli was and couldn't she have found one closer to home.
We were chattering away and bickering when I saw in me rearview mirror red flashing lights. Soon, the lights were bearing down on me, and I couldn't make out what it was because it had started to rain, and, well, I didn't have me glasses on. It was a big whatever it was, so I stepped on the gas to get meself further ahead to pull over and out of the way. I heard a siren, and Argie told me it was a fire truck coming and to step on it because the exit was just half a mile off. I told her I needed to pull over, and she said, "No, just step on it and outrun them. You can do it, Gabe."
Well, this statement had Tonya speechless, and I questioned if that was legal. Argie said yes, it surely was and gave me a "Go for it, Gabriel."
Tonya's eyes were nearly popping out of her head as she turned around to see the fire truck bearing down quickly. She was shaking her head no; fear was written all over her cute face, and I took that as a sign to speed it up faster, and I did, with me petal to the metal. Well, suddenly, there was this awful honking from the fire truck, and other vehicles were pulling over except yours truly, which was racing the caddy ever onward.
I thought the fire truck was going to run over us, and me heart was pounding out of me chest. I dead-weighted me foot to the gas and roared that baby ever faster toward the exit. Finally, at the last minute, Tonya finds her voice and screams, "Gabriel, are you crazy? This is against the law; you will lose your damn license, you fool. Pull over!"
Well, it was too late to pull over; I was already on the exit ramp and before me, so was the fire truck! I think now I'm being chased. There is a red light ahead of me; what to do? Argie was screaming, "Go through it!" And Tonya was slapping at her to not tell me to break any more laws, we'll all be killed.
I could see traffic stopping because they could hear the horns and sirens coming at an unbelievable speed off the exit ramp, me in front. I reckoned I would be doing time in the nick for outrunning an emergency vehicle and did not want to make it any worse by running a red light, SOOO, I pulled over the curb and onto the cement embankment and came to a screeching halt.
The men in the fire truck gave me the finger and yelled obscenities as they raced on by. I sat there dazed, me heart in me throat.
"Gabe, get the hell out of here before the police come," Tonya moaned at me. "Those guys were mad enough that they probably radioed the police."
OH MY GOD, I thought, DEPORTATION!
Try easing off a cement embankment with traffic where no one would let me back onto the street. Finally, after 5 minutes of our hearts beating out of our chests, thinking the police were much closer, Argie jumped out in her short nightie and feathery slippers to direct traffic in the rain! Well, we got off the embankment with many hoots from the other drivers, which I won't repeat.
That was the end of it. We made our way by travelling out of our way to avoid police cars getting to the freaking deli. I thought that was the end of it when we got home safely. Black beauty re-parked with miraculously no scratches.
But I was wrong! Two days later, I drove her to the work parking garage to deliver the keys to me boss. I walked in, and she was standing in her office looking at a traffic citation, an official-looking document informing her of a court date for hampering the mobility of an emergency vehicle. Yes, R. Linda, the firefighters took the license plate number, so we weren't off the hook.
I did explain to Mrs. McGraw what happened. Her face was a mask of disapproval and disappointment. I know I will never get a raise or a ride in black beauty ever again, nor will I see her smile at me with genuine affection. No, I was in the cooker and within the day, she had it straightened out, and I was handed a citation for hampering the mobility of an emergency vehicle. Me head was aching.
I stewed on this for the rest of the week, then a day ago, Mrs. McGraw told me she thinks I be sincerely repentant and well, she has an in with the judge (he's her cousin). I went for me court date today and was sentenced to community service for a good four months. Every weekend of the month, I will be doling out soup at the local soup kitchen.
Tidings of happiness and joy? I don't think that be the case for me. At least I'm not being deported.
Gabe
Copyright © 2004 All rights reserved
R. Linda:
All right, here it is. Half the reason I haven't been writing is me being busy at work (fretting); the other half is me heart has been recuperating from a near-fatal heart attack brought on by the one and only Argiebelle.
Oh yes, it has been an experience that I could not recount without feeling fear, then anger, then frustration, and finally, the unbelievable knowledge that I could murder Argie without any regrets.
Ok, here is what happened. As you know, 'tis the season to be jolly, and forget the fa la la la la because we are beyond that. Me boss from work owns a Cadillac DeVille, a sweet motor if ever there was one. It is black with a suede top and just the right amount of gold trim to look luxurious. I had seen said car in the parking garage of me work building enough to have admired it as a true black beauty.
It comes to pass that one night a month or so ago, yours truly was working a wee bit of overtime, and the lovely lady who is me boss stopped by me cubicle and offered me a ride to me home. Well, it being late, I wasn't sure what buses were running, if any, and I could have walked the distance, but seeing I was getting an opportunity to ride in a warm, sleek, and shiny black mobile, I took her up on it.
Off we went, and what a smooth ride it was. When she saw where I lived, she seemed impressed I had an 'address' in a good neighbourhood. Of course, I didn't know I had an address, but all the same, if it impressed her and she was happy, then all was good with me world. Yes, it was me boss's car I had been salivating over all these months.
A few days ago, she told me she needed her lovely auto serviced and since I had a slow day and she did not, would I mind running it to the garage and she'd pay me fare back. Well, I be an accommodating sort, I be, so this I did. Meanwhile, she found out she was to be called away on business, would I mind picking the auto up and keeping it until her return? Seems she did not trust the garage for long-term care, and she'd make it worth me while to keep it for her.
I agreed, I mean, why not? I live in a safe neighbourhood, Boston isn't Belfast. She even told me I could drive it about if I had a mind too, you know, keep the engine in running order, the battery from sitting idle and dying, that sort of thing. Of course, I didn't mind keeping the car, but driving it about did give me pause. I wasn't going to take a chance because everyone who knows Boston knows you cannot drive a pretty car without someone banging into you.
There she was, black beauty parked at me curb. Me Super even kept an eye on her when I was at work. The whole building admired that lovely thing and everyone was impressed that I had obviously got a raise in salary! I had to explain over and over what the deal was.
Now, you would think that knowing the car was in me care and not me own motor, no one in their right mind would ask me to drive them someplace in it. Especially when I voiced me concern to not have anything happen to it, after all it was me boss's car.
Everyone honoured that except one person. Ah, yes, indeed, Tinkerbelle could not see why I could keep it around without zooming about the city in it. I pretty much ignored her requests to go sightseeing in the "touring car" until one night, I was sitting up in me digs with Tonya, watching LOST on the telly. We had popcorn going, soda and cashews in each hand when that awful sound upon me door happened. Yes, that tap tap tap ratta tap!
Tonya, with a mouthful of cashews, says in a theatrical whisper, "Gabe, someone is knocking at your door."
She knew fully well who it was. And how uncomfortable that made me, and she was laughing so hard she nearly choked on the mouthful of nuts.
Me hand flew over her back as she struggled to breathe, I pounded her until she was able to swallow, all the time the rapping on me door was getting louder. I damn well did not want Argie in me apartment and all the loud choking of Tonya did me no good because next thing I hear is, "Come on Gabe, I know you're in there and so is T."
T is what she calls Tonya because it's better than Omarosa. Tonya stood there, eyes watering and red from the near-death experience, and I stood there biting me tongue. "Go, you have no choice," Tonya said hoarsely, rubbing her throat.
I let in the wee Tinkerbelle person very reluctantly, cutting out the pig dog's entry as I have become adept at doing. I did manage to squeeze the door on his nose, and he yipped as I shut it. As usual, Argie was looking behind her like where was Piggy.
"What's up?" I asked, irritated.
"Oh goody, there you go, Gabriel, always assuming the worst." Argie had hands-on diminutive hips, tapping feathery pink slippers on me floor impatiently. It was then I realised she was dressed in short baby doll pajama's like me mam used to wear as a teenager (yes, I've seen the pictures and ooh, not good). Worst of all, they were bright neon pink. Once I got past the glare, I began to ask, "Where on earth did you get . . . " was all I got out of me mouth because Tonya stepped up and asked in her now husky (thanks to the choking on cashews) voice, how we could be of service to Argie. Oh, so polite, I wanted to puke.
"I need a ride to the deli. NOW."
We both stood there looking at her like we didn't understand because we didn't. A place to hide from the fashion police, yeah, I could understand THAT.
"I ordered this platter for my gallery showing tomorrow, and I have to pick it up tonight for tomorrow because I won't have time tomorrow, and I need to go get it now, like tonight."
"Wearing that?" We both said in unison, but then Tonya stood up to the plate because I was not able to; the glare was making me dizzy.
"Argie, why do you need us? You have the mini car." Tonya pointed this reasonable detail out, and I quipped that it was a good point.
"Vito is dead," Argie stated.
Tonya and I had no idea who Vito was and then Argie explained that was the name she gave her mini.
"Come on, Gabe, you have that car out there, help a girl out," she whined at me.
"I'd let her borrow the VW, but Alison has it to take Mrs. Castor to the dentist," Tonya shrugged. Then suddenly, she had Mrs. McGraw's car keys in me hand and was pushing me out the door. She hates Argiebelle's whining, and I knew that was why I was suddenly holding keys; it was the only way to shut Argie up. I muttered things like not wanting to be seen with some fruitcake in her nightie and what would people think, that I would be viewed as pimp daddy and oh me god, if they heard about this at work . . .
Tonya told me to calm down, watch out for the pig dog under me feet, and no one would see us. Besides, it was Argie getting out of the car. We were just along for the drive to the deli. I was happy she was coming along because, really, I didn't want to be alone with the midget in the jammies.
I was nervous about driving that car; yes, I was. But I got behind the wheel, kicking the pig dog from getting in with me. I put the key in the ignition, and black beauty roared to life and settled into a smooth purr. I put that baby in gear and eased her onto the main street, the pig dog sitting dejectedly on the curb, watching us drive away. Off we went, with Argie giving directions in between chatter about her gallery showing. Me head had begun to swim, and I wished I was deaf.
All was well driving-wise until we got onto I-93, which is a multi-lane highway where the speed limit is nothing under 100 mph. We were whizzing along, with me asking Argie where on earth the deli was and couldn't she have found one closer to home.
We were chattering away and bickering when I saw in me rearview mirror red flashing lights. Soon, the lights were bearing down on me, and I couldn't make out what it was because it had started to rain, and, well, I didn't have me glasses on. It was a big whatever it was, so I stepped on the gas to get meself further ahead to pull over and out of the way. I heard a siren, and Argie told me it was a fire truck coming and to step on it because the exit was just half a mile off. I told her I needed to pull over, and she said, "No, just step on it and outrun them. You can do it, Gabe."
Well, this statement had Tonya speechless, and I questioned if that was legal. Argie said yes, it surely was and gave me a "Go for it, Gabriel."
Tonya's eyes were nearly popping out of her head as she turned around to see the fire truck bearing down quickly. She was shaking her head no; fear was written all over her cute face, and I took that as a sign to speed it up faster, and I did, with me petal to the metal. Well, suddenly, there was this awful honking from the fire truck, and other vehicles were pulling over except yours truly, which was racing the caddy ever onward.
I thought the fire truck was going to run over us, and me heart was pounding out of me chest. I dead-weighted me foot to the gas and roared that baby ever faster toward the exit. Finally, at the last minute, Tonya finds her voice and screams, "Gabriel, are you crazy? This is against the law; you will lose your damn license, you fool. Pull over!"
Well, it was too late to pull over; I was already on the exit ramp and before me, so was the fire truck! I think now I'm being chased. There is a red light ahead of me; what to do? Argie was screaming, "Go through it!" And Tonya was slapping at her to not tell me to break any more laws, we'll all be killed.
I could see traffic stopping because they could hear the horns and sirens coming at an unbelievable speed off the exit ramp, me in front. I reckoned I would be doing time in the nick for outrunning an emergency vehicle and did not want to make it any worse by running a red light, SOOO, I pulled over the curb and onto the cement embankment and came to a screeching halt.
The men in the fire truck gave me the finger and yelled obscenities as they raced on by. I sat there dazed, me heart in me throat.
"Gabe, get the hell out of here before the police come," Tonya moaned at me. "Those guys were mad enough that they probably radioed the police."
OH MY GOD, I thought, DEPORTATION!
Try easing off a cement embankment with traffic where no one would let me back onto the street. Finally, after 5 minutes of our hearts beating out of our chests, thinking the police were much closer, Argie jumped out in her short nightie and feathery slippers to direct traffic in the rain! Well, we got off the embankment with many hoots from the other drivers, which I won't repeat.
That was the end of it. We made our way by travelling out of our way to avoid police cars getting to the freaking deli. I thought that was the end of it when we got home safely. Black beauty re-parked with miraculously no scratches.
But I was wrong! Two days later, I drove her to the work parking garage to deliver the keys to me boss. I walked in, and she was standing in her office looking at a traffic citation, an official-looking document informing her of a court date for hampering the mobility of an emergency vehicle. Yes, R. Linda, the firefighters took the license plate number, so we weren't off the hook.
I did explain to Mrs. McGraw what happened. Her face was a mask of disapproval and disappointment. I know I will never get a raise or a ride in black beauty ever again, nor will I see her smile at me with genuine affection. No, I was in the cooker and within the day, she had it straightened out, and I was handed a citation for hampering the mobility of an emergency vehicle. Me head was aching.
I stewed on this for the rest of the week, then a day ago, Mrs. McGraw told me she thinks I be sincerely repentant and well, she has an in with the judge (he's her cousin). I went for me court date today and was sentenced to community service for a good four months. Every weekend of the month, I will be doling out soup at the local soup kitchen.
Tidings of happiness and joy? I don't think that be the case for me. At least I'm not being deported.
Gabe
Copyright © 2004 All rights reserved
