11 July 2012
547
R. Linda:
So there I was minding me own business when me mobile phone started beeping and I looked down and there was a text message from the Weasil. He's in Boston, he's two blocks away from me work, it's near the noon hour, he has reservations for two at a restaurant nearby, he'll meet me there soon.
I was like WHAT?
I did not know he was even in town, let alone the U.S. So what to do? I knew there was no way out, if I didn't show he'd be at me work to embarrass me in front of me co-workers, so there was nothing to do but go. I got me jacket and went on to the restaurant. Oi!
It was a lovely day it was, and when I gave his name for reservations at the door, they told me he was already about and come through to the back. There was an outdoor section, all garden and wee lights on the tubbed shrubs and situated quite picturesquely between some twinkly shrubs and hanging flowers -- sat the Weasil. A chilled bottle of white wine with a white napkin wrapped around it, sitting in a silver holder and two glasses there on the table, his filled, mine waiting. He was smiling at me arrival, looking for all and sundry like he was holding court. Well, well, well, I thought to meself, if I was a woman, I'd be enchanted, but not being a woman . . . not so much. OH SIGH. So I sat down thanking me lucky stars there was no one I knew there . . . yet, and it wasn't as crowded as the inside of the place.
After pleasantries, I asked him what brought him to Boston as he poured me a glass of the chilled wine, which I knew would wipe me out for the rest of the day if I drank it. I took a wee sip, commented on how nice it was and waited for his answer to me question.
"Well," said he with a big smile, "I needed to be away from the kiddlets, too much of a good thing isn't a good thing."
"You're children?" I asked stunned. But hey we are talking Weasil here, so why I was stunned he'd leave his long-suffering wife with the two hellions and be surprised I was surprised I'd be surprised to even wonder at it.
"Yuppers doughs two." He said taking a sip of his vino, the speech reverting to that dreaded Weasil lingo he writes in.
"So, you came to see me? How nice." I lied taking another sip of me own vino, forgetting what it would do to me if I kept sipping it.
"Yup! I thought to myself that a trippy to Beantown be just what I needs me."
"OK then," I said taking another sip. "So were you staying and how long?" Yeah, I wanted to get right to the nitty gritty.
"Uh, wit you and fer how evah long youse will put me uppy."
Now that the wait staff was away, he had gone into that Weasilese mode of speech full on and that drives me up a pole. I sighed, and then it hit me what he said, MY PLACE? FOR HOWEVER LONG? Me wife would kill me! So looking at the condemned man I felt meself to be, I paused stunned and took a healthy gulp of wine. When I put the glass down he smoothly refilled it and I was too surprised to notice, but saw the motion that did not register with me numbed brain at the time.
"How nice!" I exploded with a toothy grin, not really feeling it. Me mind was racing for an excuse to boot him out the next day.
"Dats goodly of ya Gabbie, cuz I thought yer wuz gunner get military on me der fer a second."
I sat there sipping away thinking, MILITARY?
"Oh, combative." I said, "No, not at all." What was I saying? 'Oh my God', was what I was really saying to meself inside me head.
"I thought ya might git tomorra off sos we can do something like maybe go ta Portsmouth an see da tall shippies." Said he.
"I just saw the tall ships here." I said taking two more sips, "I know you've seen them, you told me so, a while back. You want to see them again?" I was thinking, did they leave yet? I'll have him run down to the harbour, but I think they did leave.
The waiter came with the menus and told us his name and the server business, what the specials were and lastly, could he get us another bottle since we had less than an ounce left. I looked at that wine bottle in amazement. It was full except for two glasses when I arrived, and Weasil hadn't finished his first WHICH MEANT I drank most of it! Oi, oi, oi, oi, oi! See that's what he does to me, every single time it never fails, he sits there smugly sober and I be struggling in me cups to keep up. He always gets the advantage on me and I don't know why me brain goes numb when he's around because it doesn't help me one little bit. But I be about to have a hissy fit, so let me get back to me story.
He of course said yes, bring on another as I tried to get me thick tongue to protest, but too late, "Timothy" was off to fetch another. FOR FREAKING JOI!
"Wot escapism are ya catapulting in yer capitulating mind?" Asked he.
I blinked at him, huh? What he meant was what daydreams of escape was I thinking over in my defeated brain. Oi!
"Oh none, none, you think I'm not happy you're spending a few days?" Yes, a few days being a hint. I put it out there in the air hoping he'd wrap his Weasil brain about me subtle, or as the case probably was, not too subtle hint.
"Welly, yer looks kinda pale."
"OH no, no, I haven't been out working for Tonya. In the garden . . . you know the drill." I said brainlessly plunging on.
He looked sympathetically at me thinking about me toiling away in the garden and sighed his commiseration in me direction.
"Gabbie, ya gotter stop dat. It's time ya turned over not a whole new pagie but a whole new novel!"
"Bleedin' furriners!!" I muttered in his direction.
"Uh . . . I won't take offence to bein' referred ta as a furriner cuz I am. Fer sure, I wouldn't be foolin' a kind old gent like yourself bout such." Said he, looking intently at me shocked face.
"Kind old gent? How old do you think I be? And are you suggesting I should trade Tonya in for a newer model? I don't know how they do things in Scotland, but in Ireland, we don't trade the wife in just because we don't like gardening." I was aghast he'd suggest such I was.
He laughed. "Nah, I wuz merely suggestin' ya open da purse strings and pay a gardener."
"Oh," I said the fight deflating out of me.
See this is what he does to me. Every single time! He gets me going and because I don't understand a word he utters I go in the wrong direction and he ends up amused!
"Uh so tall ships we were talking," I said trying to regain some kind of verbal footing and mindlessly took a sip of the wine, just as our server, Timothy, appeared with another. I realised I had taken another sip when I told meself not to.
We sat in silence as Tim (for the amount of time I saw TIM I feel I can call him that), poured a bit of the new bottle in Weasil's glass and waited for the Weasil verdict. It was positive, so he filled the rest and poured me a fresh glass. Yea . . . not!
"Are you ready to order?" Tim asked.
"I'll have what you're having," I said to Weasil. I didn't care what I was served by then, the liquid lunch had already knackered me to jelly and the idea that I was spending DAYS with Weasil had chased me appetite away.
Tim went away and I gazed over at me lunch companion who had a dreamy expression on his wicked face.
"Tallie shippies," he sighed carefully placing his glass. "yup seen em' sos I guessy ya can say been dere, done dat. But I think a trippy ta Portsmouth would be a treat."
"And whys that?" I mindlessly asked not really interested, me mind was on what to tell me wife.
"Cuz it be pirates on da dock day."
Okay, I ignored that, but there it was, the real reason to go to Portsmouth, but me brain didn't catch it right away. I did not think me besotted ears had heard him correctly, at the very least I hoped not, I tried to push it out of me mind -- what was left of it anyway. Lunch arrived before I could say a word, so as I took me first bite of salmon in dill sauce, me brain fired a message that it was very tasty, the pirate thing came swinging around to confront me after the second bite.
I stopped chewing and thought about it. Yes, he did say pirates on the dock day. What the hell was that? I looked at him sitting there elegantly enjoying his salmon, to look at him you'd think British toff extraordinaire. Then I squinted me eyes trying to picture him with kohl around his eyes, a broad red bandanna around his forehead, beads hanging from his blond hair and dressed as a pirate. For some reason, it was terribly frightening to know I COULD visualise it. OI! Or, HAR!
"This pirates on the dock thing you mentioned," I peered closely at him, "do you mean we have to dress up like pirates?"
"Welly, iffin yer wants da full affecty yer can I suppose," he mused, "you have a pirate costumie, you'd be all set." And he smiled broadly at me like that was that.
"No, no, no, no, no!" I protested shaking me head for emphasis. "Just what be this pirate thing?"
"It's a reenactor company who professionally dress like pirates and dey go along the docks and act piratey. An iffin yer wanna dress like dem yer can. Be a goodly time." He munched on his buttered roll like this was great stuff this pirate business. I took a bite of me salmon to keep from saying something I'd regret.
Just then Tim was back to ask how we liked our lunch. Weasil told him it was perfect and I had me mouth full as is usually the case when this happens and nodded profusely in agreement with Weasil. I swear the servers wait for me to stuff me cakehole and then they come over to ask me to speak. Tim smiled at me knowing full well what I was thinking, and faded into the background.
"I can't do it," I said taking a couple gulps of wine to wash the fish down. Weasil filled me glass, and I mindlessly thanked him. Stupid me! Me body was out to lunch and so was me brain. It had put the no pirate part into action, but the rest of me brain was gone for the day. "I will not dress up like a pirate. Done that once, and as you say, been there, done that, got the costume."
He took a sip of his wine contemplating me over the rim. I knew the Weasil mind was in swaying Gabe mode. I said nothing, kept eating and part of me brain that was telling me to just say no to pirates, jolted me with something else he said, I stopped eating trying to remember what it was that he said that froze me brain, but nothing came. Are we surprised? I looked at the bottle of wine, I had drank a full bottle, if you count the fact that Weasil had two glasses and I had the rest! I sighed shaking me head. I don't know about me sometimes. And even now I cannot remember what he said that had me stupefied.
I pushed me plate away from me a wee bit and sat back thinking a marijuana cigarette (which I do not smoke and never have) would be nice about then. THAT'S how bad this was getting and that's what he does to me. As I contemplated WHY I would feel the need for such Tim came over with dessert menus and a busboy to clear our table.
"May I get you both coffee?" He asked.
"I really don't want dessert, I need to get back to work," I said to Weasil.
"No my good man, you have served us well," Weasil said to Tim as me eyes got wide at the effrontery of such a remark, but Tim took it in stride, and with an amused expression and even tone, informed Weasil he'd be back with the bill. I looked at Weasil as Tim left us. I asked him, "Why don't you take Tim to Portsmouth? He'd make a good pirate."
"He hasta werk," he said.
"And I don't?"
"Welly, you can say yer out on a story and ya could write about yer day on da high seas," he mused in me direction.
"Really? Simple as that, hey?"
"Yuppers," he sighed as the bill came.
"How do you know he has to work?" I asked as Tim took the cash and left us.
"It's obvious." He quipped as we got up to leave.
I told him I wasn't leaving work for another two hours. I had an early day since I had been in earlier than usual. He said he'd go back to the office with me, I could work he'd have a cup of joe in the lounge and wait. What could I do? Me besotted brain was back on people I knew walking into the lounge for a break and being unwittingly exposed to Weasil. They'd never be the same!
I had a pile of phone messages waiting when I got back. I took him to the lounge but there was no coffee in the pot, so I asked him if he'd make some and then come get me when it was ready. He gave me a pat on the back and I left him to it.
About five minutes later he came to me cubicle to tell me "Da coffee is ready Gabbie," and off I went after him to get a cup. He sat down with his and I went to the coffee pot but there wasn't anything in it. I turned the pot over and of course, nothing came out, so I mimed to him the empty pot, like WHAT THE FECK?
"Oh," he said, "I filled uppy da k-cup thingie."
I wanted to throw the pot at him. I was in need of coffee, a pot of it after all that wine he plied me with, the least he could do was make a nice fresh pot of joe to help me sober up! I could have done that! I could have filled the K-cup machine with water! Here I thought I was getting fresh ground coffee, but nah ha, as he says, I was getting a K-cup special. I tell ya! And I've got a few days with him to go yet. I should be totally mad by the end of his stay. OI!!!!
To be continued
Gabe
Copyright © 2012 All rights reserved
R. Linda:
So there I was minding me own business when me mobile phone started beeping and I looked down and there was a text message from the Weasil. He's in Boston, he's two blocks away from me work, it's near the noon hour, he has reservations for two at a restaurant nearby, he'll meet me there soon.
I was like WHAT?
I did not know he was even in town, let alone the U.S. So what to do? I knew there was no way out, if I didn't show he'd be at me work to embarrass me in front of me co-workers, so there was nothing to do but go. I got me jacket and went on to the restaurant. Oi!
It was a lovely day it was, and when I gave his name for reservations at the door, they told me he was already about and come through to the back. There was an outdoor section, all garden and wee lights on the tubbed shrubs and situated quite picturesquely between some twinkly shrubs and hanging flowers -- sat the Weasil. A chilled bottle of white wine with a white napkin wrapped around it, sitting in a silver holder and two glasses there on the table, his filled, mine waiting. He was smiling at me arrival, looking for all and sundry like he was holding court. Well, well, well, I thought to meself, if I was a woman, I'd be enchanted, but not being a woman . . . not so much. OH SIGH. So I sat down thanking me lucky stars there was no one I knew there . . . yet, and it wasn't as crowded as the inside of the place.
After pleasantries, I asked him what brought him to Boston as he poured me a glass of the chilled wine, which I knew would wipe me out for the rest of the day if I drank it. I took a wee sip, commented on how nice it was and waited for his answer to me question.
"Well," said he with a big smile, "I needed to be away from the kiddlets, too much of a good thing isn't a good thing."
"You're children?" I asked stunned. But hey we are talking Weasil here, so why I was stunned he'd leave his long-suffering wife with the two hellions and be surprised I was surprised I'd be surprised to even wonder at it.
"Yuppers doughs two." He said taking a sip of his vino, the speech reverting to that dreaded Weasil lingo he writes in.
"So, you came to see me? How nice." I lied taking another sip of me own vino, forgetting what it would do to me if I kept sipping it.
"Yup! I thought to myself that a trippy to Beantown be just what I needs me."
"OK then," I said taking another sip. "So were you staying and how long?" Yeah, I wanted to get right to the nitty gritty.
"Uh, wit you and fer how evah long youse will put me uppy."
Now that the wait staff was away, he had gone into that Weasilese mode of speech full on and that drives me up a pole. I sighed, and then it hit me what he said, MY PLACE? FOR HOWEVER LONG? Me wife would kill me! So looking at the condemned man I felt meself to be, I paused stunned and took a healthy gulp of wine. When I put the glass down he smoothly refilled it and I was too surprised to notice, but saw the motion that did not register with me numbed brain at the time.
"How nice!" I exploded with a toothy grin, not really feeling it. Me mind was racing for an excuse to boot him out the next day.
"Dats goodly of ya Gabbie, cuz I thought yer wuz gunner get military on me der fer a second."
I sat there sipping away thinking, MILITARY?
"Oh, combative." I said, "No, not at all." What was I saying? 'Oh my God', was what I was really saying to meself inside me head.
"I thought ya might git tomorra off sos we can do something like maybe go ta Portsmouth an see da tall shippies." Said he.
"I just saw the tall ships here." I said taking two more sips, "I know you've seen them, you told me so, a while back. You want to see them again?" I was thinking, did they leave yet? I'll have him run down to the harbour, but I think they did leave.
The waiter came with the menus and told us his name and the server business, what the specials were and lastly, could he get us another bottle since we had less than an ounce left. I looked at that wine bottle in amazement. It was full except for two glasses when I arrived, and Weasil hadn't finished his first WHICH MEANT I drank most of it! Oi, oi, oi, oi, oi! See that's what he does to me, every single time it never fails, he sits there smugly sober and I be struggling in me cups to keep up. He always gets the advantage on me and I don't know why me brain goes numb when he's around because it doesn't help me one little bit. But I be about to have a hissy fit, so let me get back to me story.
He of course said yes, bring on another as I tried to get me thick tongue to protest, but too late, "Timothy" was off to fetch another. FOR FREAKING JOI!
"Wot escapism are ya catapulting in yer capitulating mind?" Asked he.
I blinked at him, huh? What he meant was what daydreams of escape was I thinking over in my defeated brain. Oi!
"Oh none, none, you think I'm not happy you're spending a few days?" Yes, a few days being a hint. I put it out there in the air hoping he'd wrap his Weasil brain about me subtle, or as the case probably was, not too subtle hint.
"Welly, yer looks kinda pale."
"OH no, no, I haven't been out working for Tonya. In the garden . . . you know the drill." I said brainlessly plunging on.
He looked sympathetically at me thinking about me toiling away in the garden and sighed his commiseration in me direction.
"Gabbie, ya gotter stop dat. It's time ya turned over not a whole new pagie but a whole new novel!"
"Bleedin' furriners!!" I muttered in his direction.
"Uh . . . I won't take offence to bein' referred ta as a furriner cuz I am. Fer sure, I wouldn't be foolin' a kind old gent like yourself bout such." Said he, looking intently at me shocked face.
"Kind old gent? How old do you think I be? And are you suggesting I should trade Tonya in for a newer model? I don't know how they do things in Scotland, but in Ireland, we don't trade the wife in just because we don't like gardening." I was aghast he'd suggest such I was.
He laughed. "Nah, I wuz merely suggestin' ya open da purse strings and pay a gardener."
"Oh," I said the fight deflating out of me.
See this is what he does to me. Every single time! He gets me going and because I don't understand a word he utters I go in the wrong direction and he ends up amused!
"Uh so tall ships we were talking," I said trying to regain some kind of verbal footing and mindlessly took a sip of the wine, just as our server, Timothy, appeared with another. I realised I had taken another sip when I told meself not to.
We sat in silence as Tim (for the amount of time I saw TIM I feel I can call him that), poured a bit of the new bottle in Weasil's glass and waited for the Weasil verdict. It was positive, so he filled the rest and poured me a fresh glass. Yea . . . not!
"Are you ready to order?" Tim asked.
"I'll have what you're having," I said to Weasil. I didn't care what I was served by then, the liquid lunch had already knackered me to jelly and the idea that I was spending DAYS with Weasil had chased me appetite away.
Tim went away and I gazed over at me lunch companion who had a dreamy expression on his wicked face.
"Tallie shippies," he sighed carefully placing his glass. "yup seen em' sos I guessy ya can say been dere, done dat. But I think a trippy ta Portsmouth would be a treat."
"And whys that?" I mindlessly asked not really interested, me mind was on what to tell me wife.
"Cuz it be pirates on da dock day."
Okay, I ignored that, but there it was, the real reason to go to Portsmouth, but me brain didn't catch it right away. I did not think me besotted ears had heard him correctly, at the very least I hoped not, I tried to push it out of me mind -- what was left of it anyway. Lunch arrived before I could say a word, so as I took me first bite of salmon in dill sauce, me brain fired a message that it was very tasty, the pirate thing came swinging around to confront me after the second bite.
I stopped chewing and thought about it. Yes, he did say pirates on the dock day. What the hell was that? I looked at him sitting there elegantly enjoying his salmon, to look at him you'd think British toff extraordinaire. Then I squinted me eyes trying to picture him with kohl around his eyes, a broad red bandanna around his forehead, beads hanging from his blond hair and dressed as a pirate. For some reason, it was terribly frightening to know I COULD visualise it. OI! Or, HAR!
"This pirates on the dock thing you mentioned," I peered closely at him, "do you mean we have to dress up like pirates?"
"Welly, iffin yer wants da full affecty yer can I suppose," he mused, "you have a pirate costumie, you'd be all set." And he smiled broadly at me like that was that.
"No, no, no, no, no!" I protested shaking me head for emphasis. "Just what be this pirate thing?"
"It's a reenactor company who professionally dress like pirates and dey go along the docks and act piratey. An iffin yer wanna dress like dem yer can. Be a goodly time." He munched on his buttered roll like this was great stuff this pirate business. I took a bite of me salmon to keep from saying something I'd regret.
Just then Tim was back to ask how we liked our lunch. Weasil told him it was perfect and I had me mouth full as is usually the case when this happens and nodded profusely in agreement with Weasil. I swear the servers wait for me to stuff me cakehole and then they come over to ask me to speak. Tim smiled at me knowing full well what I was thinking, and faded into the background.
"I can't do it," I said taking a couple gulps of wine to wash the fish down. Weasil filled me glass, and I mindlessly thanked him. Stupid me! Me body was out to lunch and so was me brain. It had put the no pirate part into action, but the rest of me brain was gone for the day. "I will not dress up like a pirate. Done that once, and as you say, been there, done that, got the costume."
He took a sip of his wine contemplating me over the rim. I knew the Weasil mind was in swaying Gabe mode. I said nothing, kept eating and part of me brain that was telling me to just say no to pirates, jolted me with something else he said, I stopped eating trying to remember what it was that he said that froze me brain, but nothing came. Are we surprised? I looked at the bottle of wine, I had drank a full bottle, if you count the fact that Weasil had two glasses and I had the rest! I sighed shaking me head. I don't know about me sometimes. And even now I cannot remember what he said that had me stupefied.
I pushed me plate away from me a wee bit and sat back thinking a marijuana cigarette (which I do not smoke and never have) would be nice about then. THAT'S how bad this was getting and that's what he does to me. As I contemplated WHY I would feel the need for such Tim came over with dessert menus and a busboy to clear our table.
"May I get you both coffee?" He asked.
"I really don't want dessert, I need to get back to work," I said to Weasil.
"No my good man, you have served us well," Weasil said to Tim as me eyes got wide at the effrontery of such a remark, but Tim took it in stride, and with an amused expression and even tone, informed Weasil he'd be back with the bill. I looked at Weasil as Tim left us. I asked him, "Why don't you take Tim to Portsmouth? He'd make a good pirate."
"He hasta werk," he said.
"And I don't?"
"Welly, you can say yer out on a story and ya could write about yer day on da high seas," he mused in me direction.
"Really? Simple as that, hey?"
"Yuppers," he sighed as the bill came.
"How do you know he has to work?" I asked as Tim took the cash and left us.
"It's obvious." He quipped as we got up to leave.
I told him I wasn't leaving work for another two hours. I had an early day since I had been in earlier than usual. He said he'd go back to the office with me, I could work he'd have a cup of joe in the lounge and wait. What could I do? Me besotted brain was back on people I knew walking into the lounge for a break and being unwittingly exposed to Weasil. They'd never be the same!
I had a pile of phone messages waiting when I got back. I took him to the lounge but there was no coffee in the pot, so I asked him if he'd make some and then come get me when it was ready. He gave me a pat on the back and I left him to it.
About five minutes later he came to me cubicle to tell me "Da coffee is ready Gabbie," and off I went after him to get a cup. He sat down with his and I went to the coffee pot but there wasn't anything in it. I turned the pot over and of course, nothing came out, so I mimed to him the empty pot, like WHAT THE FECK?
"Oh," he said, "I filled uppy da k-cup thingie."
I wanted to throw the pot at him. I was in need of coffee, a pot of it after all that wine he plied me with, the least he could do was make a nice fresh pot of joe to help me sober up! I could have done that! I could have filled the K-cup machine with water! Here I thought I was getting fresh ground coffee, but nah ha, as he says, I was getting a K-cup special. I tell ya! And I've got a few days with him to go yet. I should be totally mad by the end of his stay. OI!!!!
To be continued
Gabe
Copyright © 2012 All rights reserved
