It’s Three-Thirty Somewhere

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“You sure you want to be a shrink?” I asked La Flor*.

“My dream job,” said La Flor.

“Dream job?”

“Sure, you sit in a circle and ask people to talk. How hard is that?” said La Flor.

“I think there’s more to it,” I said.

“Come on, Ray. My assistant already prepared questions for me. I’m good to go,” said La Flor.

“You have an assistant?” I asked not remembering if I wrote this into the script.

She pointed to her left at Little Carmen with earphones in his ears, his head bopping to the music or something. She said, “Besides writing questions for me to ask, if anybody gives me trouble, LC will take them to time out.”

“Timeout in a support group?” I asked.

“That’s only for misdemeanors.”

“Misdemeanors? You have levels of bad behavior?” I asked.

“LC’s idea. Hold on a sec,” La Flor said then walked over to Little Carmen, pulled out his earplugs. “Come with me, LC.”

“Do I gotta?”

La Flor turned toward Little Carmen, looked up at him, “Do you want to go down this road again? No bedtime story. No Pizza Battles Reality Show.”

Little Carmen shook his head and dutifully followed La Flor until they both stood in front of me.

“LC tell Ray your great idea for the group.”

Little Carmen looked puzzled, no that’s not accurate, bewildered. No, that’s not accurate. Confused. No, that’s not accurate, either. He didn’t know what the hell was going on. That’s accurate.

“What ideas?” said Little Carmen jumping first to one foot, then the other.

“Do you have to go to the bathroom?” I asked.

“Geez, how’d you know?”

“Lucky guess.”

“Oh go,” said La Flor. Little Carmen headed toward the bathroom. La Flor turned to me, “I’m so happy he’s housebroken. LC could only get five alt egos from alt ego singles bar but I wanted six so he asked Big Carmen to join.”

“Big Carmen is in your group?”

“What I just say?”

“What’s the group’s theme. Every group has a theme,” I said.

“I was thinking of colors that don’t clash with what I’m wearing. Shoes have to be stylish. Hair has to be with it.”

“That’s your theme?”

“Yes, do you want to be part of the group? I’ll make an exception and make it seven people. It will be a lot of work,” said La Flor.

“No. But, I will observe, if you don’t mind,” I answered.

“As long as you don’t interrupt, butt in, correct me, raise your hand, give disgusted looks, roll your eyes, or act bored. I know it’s a tall order, Ray. I don’t need you interfering.”

“I will sit and watch the beautiful, tough, and edgy shrink at work.”

“Don’t forget the assistant shrink, two (remember, Little Carmen’s influence on La Flor, she now uses two for too).

Two hours later.

I’m seated in a circle of six people, three women, three men. One of the men is Big Carmen. This I don’t understand. La Flor is playing with her iPhone. Little Carmen is listening to a playlist. Five of the people are staring at La Flor and Little Carmen. The sixth, Big Carmen, is working on picking winners of baseball games, horse races, and deciding what the pizza special will be tonight.

I check my iPhone. We’ve been sitting in a circle for nearly twenty minutes. La Flor is still playing with her iPhone. Little Carmen fell asleep. Big Carmen is scratching his head, his pencil behind his ear.

La Flor finally puts her iPhone into her hand bag and said, “I’m the beautiful, tough, and edgy shrink. This is my first question written by my assistant, “Why are you here? Now I know why Big Carmen is here, he doesn’t have Wi-Fi and he’s using Ray’s Wi-Fi do online gambling.”

A woman, about thirty-seven, who had work done, if you know what I mean, raises her arm and starts waving it.

La Flor looks at her and said, “Yes?” The yes was coated in ice. And, even though it’s 1020 not a drop of ice melts from the yes.

“Some blog writer wrote us into the script. I had better things to do than waste an hour here.”

This was a bad move on a couple of levels. On one level, I’m the guy who wrote these alt egos into the script even though I don’t remember doing it. I wonder if La Flor is messing with my laptop when I’m asleep. I made a mental note to change the password. On a deeper level, La Flor gives her a look only La Flor can give and it’s going to get worse.

“You know what? You ought to sue your plastic surgeon, bad job,” said La Flor.

“Thank you. You are so wise. I told my boyfriend it was a terrible job, but you know men.”

“Only two well (La Flor picked up on Little Carmen’s habit of using two instead of too). I could tell you stories about that species,” said La Flor glancing at Little Carmen off in La La Land.

A short, paunchy, balding man with suspenders to hold up his pants, said, “I think it’s unfair picking on my species.”

La Flor looked at him, she stifled a gag response when she saw he violated all of her sartorial codes. She said, “Suspenders? A paunch? Pants with an elastic waist band? Is that a piece? What is your name?” said La Flor.

“It’s Bill.”

“Don’t tell me to chill. LC will take you level one, time out.”

“What did I do?”

La Flor shook Little Carmen. Little Carmen woke up with a start, “Huh?”

“LC, glare at him,” said La Flor point at Bill.

Little Carmen shot a glare at Bill that would cause a two-year-old to crawl back into the womb.

“Good boy, here’s your Snicker’s bar.”

“Wait too or six moments, beautiful, tough and edgy shrink,” said Little Carmen again confusing two and too.

“What’s wrong, LC?”

“How woods (that’s how he said would) likes it if I treated use like a German Schlepski?”

“I don’t like Schlepskis of any kind,” said La Flor.

“Use gets what I means?” said Little Carmen.

I thought the big, tough, muscle lug was going to cry.

“I didn’t means two (there she goes again sounding like Little Carmen). Can I give you a hugs and a Snicker’s Bar?”

“Of course, use may, my beautiful, tough, and edgy, I don’t likes dis stinkin shrinking business.”

“What are these people doing here? How long have we been going, I’m exhausted,” said La Flor.

I interrupted, “Actual time, seven minutes. Real time, twenty-five minutes.”

“You broke the contract, Ray. You can’t come back next week.”

“Okay,” I said.

“I was only kidding. You can run the group next week, they bore me.”

“I don’t want to run the group.”

“Neither do I, what are we going to do with them.”

Big Carmen looked up, “I has a great idea. Little Filly just won in the seventh at Aqueduct. I won five hundred bucks. Pizza for everybody at Carmen’s Pizzeria tonight.

All the alt ego’s start applauding.

La Flor gave gaga eyes to Little Carmen, “You big lug, I need a margarita after all the stress Ray put me through.”

I pointed to my chest, “Me? I’m an innocent bystander.”

Little Carmen turned toward me, he said, “Don’t thinks nothing to it, Ray-mo. Use was just cholesterol damage.”

I wanted to correct him and say collateral, but to what end.

Little Carmen gave his main squeeze a hug and said, “I knows just the place, it’s called Margarita de Ville. It’s three-thirty somewhere (I didn’t have to heart to ruin Jimmy Buffet’s song).

* La Flor is a fictional character and acts as my alt ego. Her character has evolved over the blog posts. She began with a single letter as her name. Her name gradually grew to two letters, then three before she settled on La Flor. She liked the name because it fit her idea of a beautiful, tough, and edgy feminine PI.  It is my interaction with her persona that serves as the source of these blog posts. I have no notion how La Flor will continue to evolve. It is an adventure for me as well as the reader.

 

 

 

 

We Need Each Other

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When I first saw this YouTube video, I showed it to my students at The Ohio State University as a model for teamwork. I’ve watched it many times. The more I watch it, the more I see how it represents our need to compliment each other. Your strength compliments my weakness. My strength compliments your weakness. We make it work when we learn to trust each other at a deep level. It takes courage to let go and rely on another.

We Need Each Other

What’s He Watching?

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What are normal people doing at three a.m.? They’re sleeping. That is, unless they are working the night shift. That’s what I was doing, no I wasn’t working the night shift. I was in the deepest level of REM sleep, the kind of sleep that heals, renews, and when you wake in the morning you know it’s going to be a great day. Then my dreams shifted from the peaceful meadow with a clear creek running through, a few deer prancing in the distance, and the mountains smiling at me to the ground shaking, I was in an earthquake. I grabbed hold of a pine tree next to me. The earthquake grew stronger, I awoke from my nightmare holding my pillow tight to my chest. I opened my eyes to see La Flor and Little Carmen standing over me.

“Good morning, Ray,” said La Flor* a pleasant lilt to her voice.

“Was use having a nights mare? I hates night mares and day mares two (remember, LC says two for “too”).

I said, “What time is it? What are you doing in my room?”

“I wanted to talk and it couldn’t wait until you showered and had your coffee,” said La Flor.

I looked toward the covered windows, it was still dark, really, really dark. “Is it an emergency?” I asked.

La Flor tilted her head, “Not really. I didn’t want to think about it when I went back to bed. I probably wouldn’t fall asleep.”

I didn’t know what to say. Then I heard the gravel voice.

“I like omelets for breakfast,” said Little Carmen.

La Flor patted him on his head, and said, “Be a good boy and go lie on the couch, now go. You can have your omelet later.”

“I’m on my way beautiful, tough, and edgy to be determined,” said Little Carmen.

It was the last part of his sentence, there was something about it that might be important, I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.

From the living room, the gravel voice with a sense of urgency, “Can I watch cable?”

“If you don’t get off the couch,” said La Flor rolling her eyes.

A second later, the gravel voice again, “Can I get off the couch to get the remote?”

I wasn’t sure if the earthquake was the nightmare or if this is the nightmare. I lose either way.

“I’ll bring you a treat when I’m through talking with Ray if you’re quick about it,” said La Flor.

“I’ll be quicker than if you counts to four backward from too (that’s how he says two, confusing, right?).

I was sitting in bed trying to wrap my head around counting backward from two and somehow reaching four. I heard La Flor.

“I’m at two and a quarter are you back on the couch?”

“I’m almost there. Did I make it?”

“Good boy, LC.”

Is she treating Little Carmen like a large dog or a little child? I know I can mix metaphors with the best of the metaphor mixers. What La Flor is doing is new territory for me. She’s going where no alt ego has gone before. (Sorry StarTrek fans, I couldn’t help myself).

I checked my iPhone, it was 3:07 a.m. “Can we make this quick? I want to go back to my peaceful meadow.”

“I have three questions, Ray, that’s all. Easy squeezy. I love that expression. LC taught it to me. Sometimes I use sneezy instead of squeezy. And sometimes I use breezy instead of squeezy.”

“I get the point. Brilliant adaption of word usage,” I said, then wondered why I encourage her.

“Disappointed you didn’t think of it first? It was LC, then I took it a bit further,” said La Flor now sitting on the edge of my bed.

“Devastated. Now what are the three Questions,” I said, I was willing to make up any answer. I wanted to go back to sleep. I hope I can find that position again.

“Here you go, Ray. Q one. Q stands for questions; when I say Q it helps us to get to the point faster. Do you agree?”

I replied, “Oh yes, please use Q and use it frequently.”

“Q one, I’m changing careers. I want to be a shrink.”

My apologies to all psychologists, psychiatrists, and counselors. If you have a problem, take it up with La Flor, por favor. I said, “Go for it.”

“Great, Q one is answered. Here’s Q too (I can see Little Carmen’s growing influence on La Flor, she used too instead of two. My world is spinning out of control). Can I use our living room for my group sessions?”

Group sessions? Our living room? Where was I? Is there a way out? Will they follow me if I find my way out? What the heck, I said, “Sure, why not. Can I go back to sleep?”

She waggled an index finger at me, “Ray, Ray, Ray we have one more Q. Q three and it rhymes with me.”

“You’re naturally poetic,” I said. It was now 3:22 a.m.

The sound from the living room threatened to make me deaf. “What’s he watching?”

“LC loves this show called Heavy Metal Rockers face off in a Death Cage Match with Violinists.”

“This is a show?”

“It’s really, really popular on cable.”

I need a support group. “What’s Q 3?” I said over the crash of a violin on the head of a Heavy Metal Rocker, then the profanity laced tirade of the Heavy Metal Rocker telling the violinist where he was going to insert the violinist’s bow if he caught him. Little Carmen was cheering for the rocker.

“He’s so cute when he gets excited,” said La Flor.

“Q 3, por favor.”

“I forgot. It couldn’t have been important. Ciao, Ray. I’m going to finish watching the show with LC.”

Sleep? Precious sleep? If you can’t beat them, join them. I wrapped my blankets around me and sat on the couch staring at something that shouldn’t be allowed on cable or to exist on the planet. I couldn’t take anymore. I got up and said, I’m going to get dressed and go to all night Starbucks.

“We’ll go with you. LC will record it so we can watch it later,” said La Flor, the beautiful, tough, and edgy shrink.

 

* La Flor is a fictional character and acts as my alt ego. Her character has evolved over the blog posts. She began with a single letter as her name. Her name gradually grew to two letters, then three before she settled on La Flor. She liked the name because it fit her idea of a beautiful, tough, and edgy feminine PI.  It is my interaction with her persona that serves as the source of these blog posts. I have no notion how La Flor will continue to evolve. It is an adventure for me as well as the reader.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Extra Effort

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Make The Extra Effort – It Will Make The Difference

Here’s a motivational Youtube video to inspire you to give it the effort you need to take it over the top. We are never defeated if we continue to strive. Never Quit.

Can I Have My Fortune Cookie?

by

The three of us, La Flor*, Little Carmen, and me sat in my car in the parking lot of the strip mall that housed U Shoe China Garden. That’s the way they spelled it, don’t email me corrections, por favor.

“Why are we sitting here?” I tossed the question out like a dandelion tosses its seeds to the wind. I didn’t care who answered. And, the dandelion doesn’t care where the seeds land. We both only wanted to get this thing done. The way I figured it, three things could happen and all were bad.

La Flor chimed in, “It’s only three fifty. The senior specials don’t start until four.”

“That’s all they charge for the meal?” asked Little Carmen.

La Flor turned her head, cocked it sideways, and looked at Little Carmen, then she turned toward me. I found myself in the position of the interpreter. I said, “Little Carmen wants to know why they only charge three fifty for the buffet.”

“They do? I’ll make a note of that,” said La Flor.

Is there any sanity left in my world? Has my life come down to being the straight man for La Flor and Little Carmen?

Why do we want to eat at four? Can I eat at seven two (remember, that’s how he says, ‘too’). I used to be a senior, that was right after I was a junior, but before I congratulated,” Little Carmen informed us.

“You mean graduated, right?” I said.

“Ray-mo you’re thinking of sugar. You know, the graduated kind.” I think he meant to say granulated, but this could go on for a while if I pursued it. So I nodded in assent.

“We don’t want to eat,” said La Flor.

“We don’t?” said Little Carmen. “My tummy is making noises likes somebody is inside me choking somebody.”

“Remember what I taught you, LC. Be nice and we’ll have something better later,” said La Flor rubbing the back of Little Carmen’s neck.

Little Carmen, who is not so little, seemed to shrink to child size in front of me. I wanted to see if his tongue hung out. His big brown eyes gaga with the beautiful, tough, and edgy fill in the blank.

“How can you be the Phantom Diner if you don’t eat the food?”  I asked. My question made sense to me. Perhaps, I was the only one in the car to whom it made sense.

“That’s easy, Ray,” said La Flor. She patted Little Carmen’s right bicep, the one with the tattoo that said Mite. His left bicep’s tattoo read Dyno. I know it’s lame, but La Flor wanted in here. Take it up with her. She continued, “LC, tell Ray your plan.”

My worst fears started to take form. Little Carmen, pointed out the window, with a forefinger the size of a large brat. “Sees that guy, the one with the walker?”

I looked out the window, there was a guy with a walker headed toward U Shoe. He was followed by a man who was followed by a woman, both driving senior scooters. Both with baskets on the front. All three were racing at one point six miles an hour to see whose name was first on the seating list.

The old gal made a move to pass the old guy in front of her. A car honked at the trio who seemed to be crossing slow motion in front of the car. The old gal turns and flips the driver off, then turns her front wheel into the rear right wheel of the scooter in front of her nearly causing a senior scooter rollover. The guy in front of her can’t turn all the way around because his urine sack is restricting him from full mobility. She sneaks into second place at the finish line. The door to U Shoe.

I answered, after my digression into the senior follies, “I see him.”

“What took so long to answers me?” said Little Carmen.

“I was giving the readers some filler.”

“What’s they gonna do with a filter?”

“Stay focused, LC,” that’s’ a good boy. Here’s a mini Snicker’s bar for you,” said La Flor extracting a small Snicker’s bar from her handbag.

“Thanks, beautiful, tough, and edgy phantom diner.”

I’ve got my Christmas present in mind of La Flor. A retractable leash she can use with Little Carmen. Thankfully, Little Carmen lost his train of thought as he munched on his Snicker’s bar. The three of us went into U Shoe.

A medium height, thin, balding male who looked like his ancestors came from somewhere around the Pacific Rim, said, “Table for three?”

Little Carmen spoke up, “No. We’re going eat with those three.” He pointed his brat at the senior trio with two scooters and a walker pulled neatly into a circle in case of an Indian attack.

“We have plenty of other tables.”

“We wants that one, see,” said Little Carmen two inches away from the host.

“Don’t worry, he’s had all his shots,” said La Flor.

What did she mean by that, distemper? Rabies? Heart worm? Or, tetanus, polio, measles? I wasn’t sure.

“This won’t look good for you on the write-up?” said La Flor.

I whispered to her, “The phantom diner isn’t supposed to tell anybody she is the phantom diner.”

“I told you. I told LC. I told BC. What’s the problemo?”

The host walked us over to the table with the seniors. The three of us squeezed in at the table.

“What the hell is going on?” said the senior male with the walker, now known as SM1.

The senior male with the scooter, now known as SM2, said, “Victoria cut me off. I should have been second.”

“Leave me out of this if one of you want to take me home tonight,” said Victoria.

“Hell, we all came in the same SUV and we’re going to the same place,” said SM1.

“You can’t take Victoria home,” said SM2.

“Why?” said Little Carmen.

Question: Why is Little Carmen jumping into this domestic dispute?

“That’s what I want to know,” said Victoria.

“Sing it, sister,” said La Flor.

I began to look for cover. I said, “I’m going to the buffet.”

“No, you don’t, we go in order. Last week Victoria went first. Then SM1. Then me,” said SM2

“That was two weeks ago,” said Victoria.

I signaled the waiter, “Can I have my fortune cookie?”

“Fortune cookie?” Little Carmen took an interest. He said to the waiter, “Me too, and brings one for the beautiful, tough, and edgy, Phantom Diner.”

When will this end? What did I do to deserve this? Of all the alt egos available, I get La Flor and Little Carmen.

La Flor said, “That’s a good boy, LC.”

I was happy she didn’t say shake.“What’d he say?” said SM1.

“What’d he say?” said SM1.

“He asked about a cookie,” said SM2.

“What’s he want with a cookie? I don’t think we ate. Victoria, Did we already eat, I don’t remember?”

La Flor grabbed my arm, “I think they’re dangerous. Let’s get out of here, now. I have everything I need for this place.”

“You do?” I said.

“LC help me with my chair.”

“Here’s your check,” said the waiter.

Little Carmen said, “The guy with the scooter. He’s paying.”

Highlights from La Flor’s write up.

Mark the parking spaces by the tables for scooters and walkers.

Put fortunes in the fortune cookies.

Victoria has got to do something about her hair, it smells of perm.

My Fortune read: Your lucky number is 7. The moon is in your phrase (that’s what it said “phrase). Life turns on a daisy (I have no idea where they get these fortunes).

* La Flor is a fictional character and acts as my alt ego. Her character has evolved over the blog posts. She began with a single letter as her name. Her name gradually grew to two letters, then three before she settled on La Flor. She liked the name because it fit her idea of a beautiful, tough, and edgy feminine PI.  It is my interaction with her persona that serves as the source of these blog posts. I have no notion how La Flor will continue to evolve. It is an adventure for me as well as the reader.

 

 

Don’t Let Fear Hold You Back

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Fearful Of Trying Something New? Take heart from a young girls courage to conquer her fears.

Don’t Let Fear Hold You Back

Good Puppy

by

I have no secret hiding places. My sacred space evaporated with the morning dew. Actually, faster than the morning dew. Alone time? What is it? I feel like a third-rate character in a B movie. Okay, I write the script, but I’ve lost control. How can I lose control to the script I’m writing, you ask? You’re asking the wrong writer. Somewhere, who knows how many blogs ago, I took a right turn, or was it a left turn, maybe I kept walking straight ahead, it’s all a blur. I entered the world of alt egos.

I’m not the first one to have this experience. The cult television show, The Prisoner, from the sixties and more recently, The Truman Show present the similar dilemmas. Those were movies. This is a real life situation and 911 won’t listen to me. I’ll stop here, I hear her.

“What’s up, Ray? You look lost in thought?” said La Flor, taking a seat at the patio table. Of course, she took my coffee cup, help it up to me for a warm up. She wrapped both hands around it and smiled at me.

“Where’s Little Carmen?” I asked. I said a silent prayer the mob kidnapped him. I didn’t much care which mob.

“I sent him outside. I needed a break, you know some quiet time. He’s probably sitting on the front steps wondering when I’ll let him in,” she said.

I wondered if Little Carmen chased squirrel’s, or cars, yelled at postmen, growled at anyone walking down the street. Do I need a sign in the front yard, BEWARE OF LITTLE CARMEN for insurance purposes?

“Whatcha thinking about, Ray?”

“Oh, nothing. Nothing at all,” I answered.

“You’re thinking of something. I know you’re thinking something. I’ll figure it out sooner or later. Enough of you. It’s me time,” said La Flor.

How do you respond to that kind of comment? I thought of two or three responses and they’d all turn out bad. I had a strong desire to grab the coffee pot and drink directly from it. Mental note, bring two cups. Make it three in case Little Carmen shows up.

La Flor broke the silence, “I’ve decided to become a two-career woman.” She held up her hand, policeman style, forbidding me to speak. Then she continued. “I am beautiful, tough, and edgy. I’m keeping my PI shtick.”

“It certainly is a shtick,” I said.

“Thank you, Ray. I’ve decided to be a food critic. You know the phantom dinner. LC will travel with me. He knows food and can give me pointers.”

“Do you mean Phantom Dinner or Phantom Diner?” I asked.

She shook her head, “You’re not listening, Ray. Your head is not in the game. You’ve got a big part in this.”

That got my attention. I turned my chair to directly face La Flor. I kept repeating to myself, ‘Ray, listen. Don’t agree to anything. Think it over.’ The problem for me was I had a lot to remember and repeat it while I am trying to listen to La Flor.

She continued, “Since we’re just starting out, we need a driver, someone to pay for our meals until a syndicate picks us up, or the Food Channel. And, someone to work with LC with the menus. That’s where you come in.”

“That’s a lot of work.”

“It’ll be fun hanging out with LC and me.”

“It will?”

“I’m going to call LC in and tell him the good news. Do you have anything good to eat?”

“Everything I have is good to eat.”

“I mean a cookie, candy bar, you know what I mean.”

“No, but I have dates, raisins, and blueberries,” I said.

“Who are you dating? I didn’t know. How long have you been dating? What does she look like? Do I know her? Tell me everything,” said La Flor bending toward me.

Do I tell her I’m dating a dried fruit? How will that sound?

“Come on, Ray, give it up,” La Flor insisted.

I owe Little Carmen one, from outside the front door, he interrupted, “Beautiful, tough, and edgy PI, I misses use. Can I come in?”

“Isn’t he the sweetest, Ray? Where are the raisins? He needs something for being good.”

“You sure you didn’t send him to obedience school?”

Tomorrow the Phantom Diner may be at your favorite restaurant.

Change happens. It’s a part of life. If we don’t want to change, life’s circumstances often tell us we have to change. La Flor switching careers is a change. Will it work out? Who knows? At least La Flor had the courage to try something different. I like her attitude.

* La Flor is a fictional character and acts as my alt ego. Her character has evolved over the blog posts. She began with a single letter as her name. Her name gradually grew to two letters, then three before she settled on La Flor. She liked the name because it fit her idea of a beautiful, tough, and edgy feminine PI.  It is my interaction with her persona that serves as the source of these blog posts. I have no notion how La Flor will continue to evolve. It is an adventure for me as well as the reader.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lessons To Live By

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I viewed this video on YouTube and the lessons offered by the Navy Seal commander at the 2014 University of Texas commencement are powerful motivators for anyone who wants to make a difference in the world.

Tell Him to Grovel

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“La Flor*, you have to come out of your room. It’s not healthy. You’ve been in there all day. You haven’t eaten anything. What is bothering you.”

“What’s that? I wouldn’t understand?”

“I think I might. I’m one of the sensitive males, give me a try.”

“There are no sensitive males, what makes you say that?”

“Why should I study my species?”

“I think some males are sensitive even though you haven’t met one.”

“That includes me? What did I do? You won’t tell me? Does that make sense? It does? At least come up to the door and keep it between us. Yes, I promise I won’t look through the keyhole. Yes, I promise I won’t quickly open it. Now talk to me.”

I sat down next to the door. It was not going to be quick or easy. La Flor said, “Ray, Life is like a pizza with no toppings.”

“Interesting metaphor, La Flor,” I responded.

La Flor’s voice rising. She was settling into her onstage performance, “Life is like trying to ride on the back of a motorcycle when finally your hair is perfect and the dumb motorcycle driver doesn’t notice it.” if La Flor had a gun I think she would have started firing it through the door. Glad I didn’t write one in for her.

If La Flor had a gun I think she would have started firing it through the door. Glad I didn’t write one in for her.

“I have a feeling I know what’s happening,” I said.

“You? How could you know? You’re a man. You’re in their club.”

“We have a club?” I asked.

“Yes and no beautiful, tough, and edgy woman are allowed,” she said.

“I don’t want to be a PI anymore. I don’t have a reason to live.”

“La Flor, what is going on?”

“It’s all your fault, Ray.”

“My fault? What did I do? I only try to help.”

“You made me break up with Little Carmen.”

“That’s what this is all about?”

“Breaking up was your idea, remember?”

“It was not my idea.”

“You sent him to that Alt Ego boyfriend stealer JJ Peterson.”

“Do you want me to go back and read yesterday’s blog to you?”

“Pour salt into my bleeding wounds. Kick me while I am down. Hold my head underwater until I can no longer breathe. Force feed me raw veggies. Is this what you’re trying to do?” she said while giving the most pathetic sobs I’ve heard in years.

“Hold that thought. There is someone at the front door.”

La Flor, all of a sudden calm, said, “If it is LC, tell him he better apologize before I will see him again.”

“Why do you want him to apologize when you want him back?”

“It’s the way I do things,” she said.

“I understand. I’ll be right back.”

I walked to the front door, the knocking more incessant by the second. I opened the door. Standing in front of me with his apron on, covered with sauce stains that look like blood, flour over his arms and face, and his hair disheveled stood Big Carmen.

Big Carmen didn’t wait for me to say anything. He started talking and jabbing his stubby index finger into my chest. I backed up a step. He took a step forward. He said, “Ray, use and me we gots to talk. You know, man to men. My boy, the offspring of my lions, he cries all the time. It’s embarrassing. I have to keep him in the kitchen and tell him to make pizza with his back to the customers.”

“Did you mean offspring of your loins?” I asked.

“No, I meant what I meant. Everybody but use knows loins is a kind of meat. You ever hears of chicken loins?”

“No, I heard of beef loin.”

“Beef loin is overrated. It’s bad for use, it gots lots of those aunti’s oxidants. I’m talking chicken loin, its rare. The Chinese use it for an afro diesel app.”

“Do you mean aphrodisiac?”

No, I means what I meant.”

“I can see where Little Carmen learned all he knows from you, Big Carmen,” I said patronizingly.

“Thanks, man. Now what’s we going to do to get these two together.”

From her bedroom, “Is it LC?”

I turned and said, “It’s Big Carmen. Little Carmen wants to get back together.”

“Is he ready to apologize and make two promises?”

Big Carmen heard La Flor. He said, “He don’t apologize, he gets to be the dishwasher this week instead of the dishwasher being the dishwasher which is a machine if use understand how I brings pressure.”

“I do. Nice plan,” I said, I didn’t want Big or Little Carmen to turn violent. I figured the best way was to try to agree with them.

“What’s the first thing, then tell me the second thing after use tells me the first thing.”

“Did you understand that La Flor?” I said.

“I’ll start with the second thing because it’s more important than the first thing, but the first thing is almost as important as the second thing, but a tad more important than the third thing,” said La Flor.

I felt a migraine coming on.

Big Carmen used his flour coated, hairy arm to brush me aside. He stepped inside and walked to La Flor’s bedroom door. He said, “This is Big Carmen, beautiful, tough, and edgy PI. You tell Big Carmen whats use wants and use gets it.”

A moment of silence followed by another moment of silence followed by five more moments of silence.

“Use okay in there? asked Big Carmen.

“I was freshening up, here are my conditions, one, no tacky white windbreakers.”

“Done. I hated it. It was his Uncle Richie’s idea. He never had a good idea since I known him and I known him since he was a baby.”

“Okay. I never, ever, ever, ever want to ride on the back of a motorcycle again.”

“What about the front, so I can clarify it for Little Carmen.”

“Not the front, side, or back.”

“Anything else beautiful, tough, and edgy PI?”“I don’t want pizza every night. You make the best pizza in the city Big Carmen, but I have to watch my svelte figure.”

“I don’t want pizza every night. You make the best pizza in the city Big Carmen, but I have to watch my svelte figure.”

“I must say your figures is good figures, but don’t take that personal.”

“No offense taken, handsome.”

“Use got good taste beautiful, tough, and edgy PI. I send out for my dinner six nights a week BTW. I’d go nuts eating my food, which is very good, all the time. Can I bring Little Carmen in? He’s in the car hiding on the back seat.”

La Flor stepped out of her room as if she was going on the red carpet. “Don’t touch me, Big Carmen. I did this for LC. Bring the boy in, tell him to grovel a bit. I like groveling.”

I need some help, Big Carmen. You have some advice for my blog readers? 

Sure ting, Ray. Heads up, readers: If your pizza don’t turn out right, call Carmen’s Pizzeria, we delivers. 

That’s it? That’s the best you could do?

Best I could do after the stress of helping my boy out.

* La Flor is a fictional character and acts as my alt ego. Her character has evolved over the blog posts. She began with a single letter as her name. Her name gradually grew to two letters, then three before she settled on La Flor. She liked the name because it fit her idea of a beautiful, tough, and edgy feminine PI.  It is my interaction with her persona that serves as the source of these blog posts. I have no notion how La Flor will continue to evolve. It is an adventure for me as well as the reader.

 

Save Me, I’m Suffocating

by

La Flor, AKA, the beautiful, tough, and edgy PI, and Little Carmen walked into Starbucks ahead of me. Little Carmen held the door for La Flor, then stepped inside and let the door close before I could squeeze in.

It was two in the afternoon. The drinks of choice in San Antonio on a hot July afternoon rank in the following order: Margarita – not offered by Starbucks. Beer or cerveza – not offered by Starbucks. Real Texas iced tea in a real Texas sized iced-tea glass not one of the plastic Starbucks things with high priced names – not offered by Starbucks. Then there is the fifty-two-ounce drink offered at all the gas stations for ninety-nine cents. Somewhere between uppity and I’ll donate my first born to Starbucks is their sugary, frosty, coffee concoction that costs the same as a good meal at a decent restaurant. A large line waits, everyone has their iPhone out, ready to collect stars.

La Flor turned to me and said, “Ray, give your iPhone to LC so he can order our drinks.”

“I don’t want anything. I’m only the driver,” I said.

“Don’t be so cheap. Live a little,” she said.

“Yah, Ray-mo, lives a little, like the beautiful, tough, and edgy PI says,” said Little Carmen sticking his paw out to take my iPhone.

La Flor said, “Pay attention, LC. Ray and I will grab a table and see if we spot LaRue. Ray, tell LC what you want.”

My first thought was, I want to get out of here. I was afraid Little Carmen would take me literally. So, I said, “A glass of ice with a touch of water.”

“He’s only kidding LC, get him the largest iced coffee they have and tell them to add a shot of espresso to it. I’ll have a Frappuccino.”

“Can I gets something two (blogger’s note: That’s the way Little Carmen said it, ‘two’ not ‘too,’ the way it’s supposed to be said), beautiful, tough, and edgy PI?”

“Of course, get whatever you want, Ray is paying,” said La Flor.

Why does it hurt whenever she says I’m paying?

Little Carmen handed my phone back to me and said, “How do I pay with the phone? Is it a trade or something?”

I reached for my phone and gave Little Carmen a quick tutorial.

“What’ll they think of next. I got to tell Big Carmen to get a Pap smear.”

“It’s an app,” I said.

Isn’t that what I said?” asked Little Carmen. Then he said, “You got anything on here I’m not supposed to see because I’m gonna look at everything.”

“It’s all PG-13,” I said.

I confused Little Carmen. La Flor rushed to his rescue, “LC has such an inquisitive mind, Ray. Run along LC, we’ll be waiting.”

Little Carmen blew a kiss to La Flor that almost knocked me over with the garlic flavored spray that came in its wake.

As soon as Little Carmen was in line, La Flor grabbed my arm, almost hysterically she said, “Ray, save me. I’m dying. He’s suffocating me. I want to dump him.”

“Dump Little Carmen? After the way the both of you were carrying on in the backseat?”

“I was holding my breath. He has the worst breath I’ve smelled since … I won’t go into that.”

“Is that the only reason?”

“No, it happens to be number seven on my list of reasons to dump him.”

“You’ve made a list?” I said a bit incredulously.

“Yes, and it’s growing. Number one, is this ridiculous, tacky white windbreaker jacket. La Flor in a tacky windbreaker? I’ll make all the tabloids. They won’t let go if they find out. If my public sees me with this thing on, I lose all cred.”

“And, number two?” I asked.

“His motorcycle. A beautiful, tough, and edgy PI does not ride on a motorcycle with her arms around a guy who’s wearing a plaid kerchief on his head to hold his hair in place.”

“Did you wear a helmet?”

“And ruin my doo?”

“Good point. What’s number three?”

“I need my freedom. I’m a free spirit. I can’t be tied down. I don’t want Sunday dinner at the pizzeria. I don’t want to smell sauce and garlic and pizza all the time. Oh God, Ray do something. Save me, I’m too young, too vibrant, too beautiful, too tough, too edgy to be tied down.”

“He’s waving at you,” I said.

“Don’t look at him, Ray. You’ll only encourage him. You’re the writer. He’s only an alt ego. Kill him off. Make him a greeter at Walmart. Do something.”

“You’re not an alt ego?” I asked.

“No,” La Flor said defensively. I move between worlds. I am the best of both. I think my mother was a real person and my father was an alt ego. Maybe it was the other way around.”

“He’s carrying the drinks over. Oh, Ray. He got me the largest, most caloric drink on Earth. How will I fit into my jeans? Do you know how long I’ll have to go on the treadmill tomorrow? Hours.”

Little Carmen sauntered over, his hips jostling tables on his path to us. “Here’s your drink, beautiful, tough, and edgy PI. I made them put extra whooped cream on it with extra caramel sauce. I got one just like it. Here’s your coffee, Ray-mo. Use guys spot LaRue?”

“I think you meant to say whipped?” I offered.

“I don’t see no whips? I also didn’t hit any body,” said Little Carmen.

“Do you understand, now, Ray?” La Flor said, her eyes pleading with me to do something.

I shook my head, then looked at my drink. If I took one sip, I wouldn’t fall asleep for a week. La Flor swirled her straw around the whipped cream and caramel.

Little Carmen removed the top and straw to his drink, raised the venti cup to his lips, and began the alt ego male ritual of consuming a drink without swallowing or breathing. This is done anytime an alt ego male is in the presence of a female. It’s a standard matting practice. Little Carmen was letting his drink slide its way through his esophagus. He was obviously applying a male beer drinking technique to a cold drink. I didn’t think it would turn out well.

The whipped cream gave him a white mustache, not a good look. Even worse was the caramel dripping down both sides of his mouth as he attempted to impress La Flor with his male, drink it all at once move.

La Flor whispered, “Reasons eight through one-hundred, please. I’ll be good. I promise. No more sassiness. No more wisecracks. I’ll cook once a week.”

Little Carmen, three-fourths of the way through, suddenly set the drink down and pressed the palms of his hands against his temples.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“I gots an ice cream headache. Oh geez, these are the worst. How am I going to get rid of it? I can’t think straight or crooked.”

La Flor pushed her seat out, she took off her tacky white windbreaker, tossed it on the table, and said, “That’s it, LC. We’re done.”

Little Carmen, still pressing his paws to his temples, raised his eyes without moving his head, and said, “But beautiful, tough, and edgy PI, what I do?”

“You couldn’t drink your cold drink all the way down without stopping. It’s part of the job description for my assistant.”

“It is?”
“Yes, and so is not getting ice cream headaches. I’m letting you go, don’t worry, I’ll be a good reference. Ray’s driving me home.”

“What about me? What about my motorcycle? What about us?

I spoke up, we’ve already had one bad breakup and I didn’t want another. I said, “La Flor told me she’ll set you up with J.J. Peterson, the romance writer. LaRue came crawling back and she told him to keep on crawling.”

“Geez, thanks, beautiful, tough, and edgy PI. Does J. J. like pizza?”

“Loves it. All in a day’s work, LC,” said La Flor pushing me toward the door. Then La Flor whispered to me, “LC is perfect for her. I can’t stand her. She’s a snooty b ….” I stopped her before she could finish her sentence.

The best decision is to stop making a bad decision. That piece of wisdom I picked up from a book has proven its worth to me time and again. La Flor applied it to a relationship going nowhere. I hope the piece of wisdom comes in handy for you.

* La Flor is a fictional character and acts as my alt ego. Her character has evolved over the blog posts. She began with a single letter as her name. Her name gradually grew to two letters, then three before she settled on La Flor. She liked the name because it fit her idea of a beautiful, tough, and edgy feminine PI.  It is my interaction with her persona that serves as the source of these blog posts. I have no notion how La Flor will continue to evolve. It is an adventure for me as well as the reader.

 

 

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