The news that Otto Steerage and Minton Mention was burbling some dritz was wasted on me. “Burble burble at the drive-in with a vengeance sez Otto”
“Yez man, and’ double the dritz on that burger adds Minton, not one to be left out of a conversation for long.
Mitzi Maison Mint Mention was home cryin the fer god sake’s blues over the toilert. “I bin peein’ ever’ 5 minutes fer 3 days strait, an’ them two never stopped to pass the time, let alone, never you mind, sleepin. My only consolation here is the more I cry, the less I gotta pee.
The fact is, that’s been life as I ‘d known it in these parts for more time than I care to remember, so leaving the status quo, I perambulated over the Marie’s to find her contemplating which of a vast collection of brilliant striped bikini panties to wear that day. I liked Marie because she did as she pleased. She is a commercial artist and works out of the house. Yesterday’s temperature zoomed clear past 96 and possessing that knowledge and secure in the belief that it would do so again today, I showed at my more or less regular hour to watch Marie, hanging herself over that drawing board in those multi shade undies, drawing a ad for ether white toe polish an’ flippin’ the sweat off the underside of her tits with the back of her hand without smudging the tempera; no mean feat.
I wasn’t due at my job at the Once Around the Track Dress Shoppe & Hardware for another 3 or 4 hours and knew Marie’s was as cool a place to hang out flickin the sweat off as any other. Besides, that panty trick in the beat the heat weather had been mine before it was hers, and Minton an’ Otto was wise to me an’ started their burbling activities out in my front yard pretending to have joined up with the friends of the animals and sneaking peeps from the ladders that went up to all the plastic bird feeders left out by Mrs. Bendheim-Fiduciary of the Third National Truss.
So I say “Look, Marie, I know I started this business but did you have to make it into such a goddam fetish?” And she says” Yes, well,” in that prissy way of hers, “well if a girl’s only going to wear one garment, it might as well be flattering” and I counter with “You got enough eye makeup on to constitute at least 3 garments already. What is this? We havin’ a session with Playhorse Magazine this afternoon or what?” And she says “yeah, well at your age I guess a little too much makeup could be a bad thing but….”
“This wouldn’t mean you have loosed the news to the ‘friends of the animals” that this is where the birds come and cool their feather now that they invested in all those ladders in my yard would it?”
So Marie, she goes: “a girl’s got to look her best at all times, you know” and I figure it’s time I invested in a swimsuit and a lawn chair anyway, bohemian life going downhill at the current rate that it was. I double back just in case Mitzi has quit cryin’ the by god etc. etc. which she has since I offered her something constructive to do instead, namely; spending the none too hard-earned cash of her just about fictitious husband since most of his time was pent on burbling activities anyway, which everybody pretty much knew. Not that burbling actually needed to take up so much time in the life of a full grown man, but there it was, ugly as a scabbed up knee and as unstable as the afternoon heat, Minton was booked up with this erstwhile & Otto burbling which actually no body knew what that amounted to.
Hearing the ladder crash out in the yard brought to mind that metallic sound of long icicles crashing off the treetops on to the roof in winter. We heard some muffled cursing & took off out of there at a run. Let the neighbors deal with the mess. Prob’ly not even need of an ambulance.