funny

I Am Nice

by

“I’m not happy, Ray,” pouted La Flor.

“What’s your problem. You’re going on vacation with me. Your two puppies are coming along and they don’t have to be in cages. Why are unhappy?” I said. I know the answer, I’ll let La Flor do the honors.

La Flor gestured with her finger, “Why are you TSA approved and I am not? There’s a mistake. I don’t want to stand in the long line. I don’t want to take off my shoes. Anybody tries to pat me down, I’ll have LC smack them.”

“You don’t want to do that. It is not a good idea. He may get ten to twenty. Be nice or they won’t let you go to the gate,” I said.

“I am nice. That’s the point, Ray. Do I have to put my expensive, Italian leather handbag through the metal detector? I have important things in my handbag like my iPhone. My lip gloss. My concealer. My mascara. My moisturizer. Need I continue? They’ll ruin it. I’ll sue. I promise I’ll sue everyone who works at the airport.”

“Everyone?”

“Everyone. Even the retirees.”

The girl will not take no for an answer. I’ve got to admire her gumption.

I turned from La Flor to Little Carmen, “Is that a gold chain almost hidden by your chest hairs?”

“Un huh. I don’t believes in shaving my chest.”

“You’ll need to take off the gold chain, the gold bracelet, the expensive watch, and please button up your shirt, no one wants to see waving fields of black hair. Be like TT, he already has his shoes off. his belt is off and he has his plastic baggies with toiletries ready to go.”

“Look, Ray. See my sides. Uncle Guido game me the bracelet. Aunt Josephine gave me the gold chain.”

“What about the expensive watch?”

“Cousin Carl found it. Use know finders keepers. And, don’t asks where he found it. And also, if use thinks I’m taking these off for these TAS guys, use got another three guesses coming.”

“You tell him, LC,” said La Flor encouraging LC.

“It’s TSA. I’m ready to get in the pre approved line. If you guys make it through security, our plane to Vegas is at gate 11.”

“What do you mean, if? Can’t you write it in that we’re through security without a hitch and TSA said I was the most beautiful, tough, and edgy woman to ever go through?” said La Flor.

“No. Look, TT is in line. He has his boarding pass in his hand. He has his ID out. Looks like he’ll be going with me.”

“He is such a suck up,” said La Flor.

“Yah. And I could say other things abouts him, but I don’t want to offense anybody I already offended, if use knows what I mean,” said Little Carmen.

I got in the TSA approved line. I kept an eye on La Flor and Little Carmen. I wasn’t sure how the TSA blog writer was going to handle these two going through security. I wanted to holler a warning when I saw La Flor grab hold of Little Carmen’s hand and pull him out of line and walk around the security maze TSA uses to see who is intelligent enough to get to the screening area. It’s not going to be pretty.

TT is waiting for me when I pass through the metal detector. I go to the conveyer belt and wait for my suitcase and backpack. I hear my name,

“Ray, Ray hurry up, we’ll miss our flight. I need coffee. I need a snack,” shouted La Flor.

“Yah, the beautiful, tough, and edgy woman with friends every place needs use to hurry,” said Little Carmen.

I grabbed my backpack and took hold of my luggage and walked over to La Flor and Little Carmen. “How did you manage to get through security? You cut the line.”

“And, we didn’t take off our jewelry. We didn’t get scanned. We got through before you and you were pre approved,” La Flor said smugly.

“But how?”

“The beautiful, tough, and edgy woman is personal friends with the TSA blog writers girlfriend,” said Little Carmen.

“So, I made a call and told Emily that I was going to friend her if she encouraged her boyfriend to do me a tiny favor,” said La Flor.

“Just because you’re going to friend her?”

“I don’t give friending away easily. You have to do something for me,” said La Flor. Then she turned her attention to TT, “TT do you want to be my friend and do you want me to be your friend?”

A high pitched voice said, “Uh huh.”

“Good decision. TT, you can carry my carry on. Be careful with it, I have my extended beauty center in there. LC, you can get me my fav Starbucks drink and tell them who they’re making it for. Ray, you can walk with me to the gate and find me a seat where I won’t be near screaming kids. One other thing, Ray.

“What’s that, La Flor?” I was almost too afraid to ask.

“What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.”

How does she get away with it? It’s a mystery.

 

 

 

You Can’t Live Without Me

by

“Question, Ray. When we go on our trip, why do I have to go through security?” said La Flor.

“Are you speaking about you and your two groupies?” I asked.

“No, I am speaking about the trip you and I are taking,” said La Flor matter of factly.

“I am going solo. Alone. Traveling with only those who fly with me, which does not include you, Little Carmen, or TT.”

“The way I see it, Ray. You’re wrong. Incorrecto. Mistaken. Try again, you had two choices and the one you chose does not work,” said La Flor laying out three suitcases.

“Give me one, only one good reason why I should let you accompany me on my trip,” I said.

“Oh please. Only one good reason?”

“Yes, and it better be solid gold.  A reason every sane person on the planet would agree as perfect,” I said as I put protein bars in my backpack.

“You’re not packing protein bars for a trip? How awful. To begin with, they taste horrible. The only reason to eat them is to let people think you eat healthily. While you’re at it, why don’t you stuff some kale and spinach leaves in your backpack.”

“I would but I can’t take EVOO on the plane. Don’t change the subject. You haven’t given me one good, solid gold reason for taking you along.”

“I’m going to give you three reasons. Will that satisfy you? said La Flor.

“They better be good,” I said.

“You can’t live without me,” a smug smile on La Flor’s face. Before I could answer, she added, “And, if you try, I’ll find you. I have alt ego friends at BookIt, Jetsetter, and Trivago. You can’t escape. I’ll have your photo plastered all over Instagram, Twitter, and Facebook.”

“Are you threatening me?” I asked.

“No. I’m using the third rule of power persuasion.”

“Which is, La Flor?” I asked.

“If they don’t agree to your idea, give them an alternative that makes the idea sound great.”

“Where did you learn that?”

“LC’s uncle Carmen. He said it a little differently. But, I’m nice,” said La Flor.

“You’re not going to give me any peace until I say yes, am I right?” I asked.

“I promise I’ll be good. I won’t create a scene. I’ll stay in the background. You won’t have to worry about me.”

La Flor has a way of wearing me down, “You’ll have to go through TSA security. No check-in luggage and I get the window seat,” I said.

La Flor turned away from me, “Boys, he agreed. We’re going on vacation.”

From the adjoining room, two voices in acapella, one soprano, the other baritone said, “Thank you beautiful, tough, and edgy persuader.”

Everyone Loves Me

by

I’m a man on a mission. My sanity depends on my success. Failure is not an option. I’m on a mission to help La Flor discover her rightful place in the alt ego universe. If she finds it, her two puppies, Little Carmen and TT will follow her. I will be out of rough waters. I’ll have crossed the bridge. I’ll have parachuted and landed safely. I know I’m mixing metaphors faster than a Ninja blender makes my smoothie; if it makes you nervous, try it, it’s soothing as a mountain stream. Thought I’d toss in a simile.

La Flor and I sat across from each other at the table sipping coffee. I made my own. Little Carmen and TT, her two puppies, did a Starbucks run because La Flor wanted a specialty drink, a caramel macchiato. Little Carmen and TT also sat at the kitchen table across from each other. Little Carmen fixated on his dripping biscotti dunked into a cup holding four shots of espresso. TT sipped a chai latte. They promised not to speak while La Flor and I talked.

“Excuses me,” said Little Carmen holding his biscotti over the top of TT’s chai latte and watching the slow drip, drip, drip of espresso into TT’s drink.

“You promised not to talk,” I said.

“Use didn’t start. I recollected use said, once I starts to speech, no interpreters. Am I right? Besides, I wants to give use a heads up. TT will soon have the bee hives because he is allergics to espresso. Right, TT?”

TT scratched his arm and the back of his neck, then nodded.

I need an interpreter to decipher what Little Carmen said. I said, “Don’t pick on TT. What do you want?”

“It makes TT feels like he is one of us, which he is as long at the beautiful, tough, and edgy woman agrees. Now, use asks what I wants? Nothing. I was seeing if use started,” said Little Carmen. Then he put out his fist to TT for a fist bump. TT initially winced thinking Little Carmen was going to hit him.

I mouthed the words, ‘fist bump’ to him. TT stuck out his skinny forearm with what appeared to be a ball peen hammer at the end. The sledgehammer bumped the ball peen hammer and almost knocked TT over.

“La Flor, what you want to do with your life,” I said.

“Oh, finally getting to me after a bunch of paragraphs. I’m not important enough to start off the blog? And, may I add, only write about me? She said with an edge to her voice.

Little Carmen sensed her hostility the way a German shepherd senses a stranger is within a hundred yards of his home. His ears perked up. The hairs hanging out his large nose shot straight out. He began taking deep breaths and exhaled slowly.

“La Flor say something before I pass out,” I said.

She glanced at Little Carmen, “Easy big fellow. It’s okay. When you breathe, put your hand over your mouth and nose.”

Little Carmen’s ears dropped a notch, his nostril hairs retracted, and he placed his hand over his nose and mouth, thus deflecting his garlic breath.

“Let’s start La Flor, what are your strengths?” This was a good a place as any to start I mistakenly thought.

“Well, I am beautiful. Everyone loves me. Most of the girls are jealous of me. I set the fashion trends. I’m also smart, tough, and edgy. Did I mention, I don’t have an equal?”

“It looks like you qualify for anything you want to be,” I said realizing my mistake thinking an interaction with La Flor was to be meaningful.

“I need to go shopping, let’s get this done, close the chapter, cut to the chase, get out of here, I’m getting the willies cooped up in the slammer,” she said reaching into her handbag and pulling out an emery board and began working on her nails.

I’m usually good on my feet. I can go with the flow. Jump hoops. Wing it. I wondered if I should title this blog Mixing Metaphors.

“Tell me what you want to do with your life besides shop, be adored, have people cater to your every whim,” I said.

“Is there something else to life?” she asked sincerely, then worked on her cuticles.

I looked at Little Carmen, he shrugged. I looked at TT, he shrugged.

La Flor said, “I’m bored, Ray. Can we talk tomorrow? Boy’s tag along with me while I show off my new edgy look at the high-end stores and then we’ll scoot on over to Dino’s Vino. Dino always comps me with his best wine.”

“Yes, princes,” I muttered under my breath.

 

They Can’t Make Me Wait

by

At first, I started this blog, alone. Then I had the idea to create an alt ego, La Flor. She’d be someone to bounce ideas off, stimulate thinking, and enter into intelligent conversations. Wrong. Wrong. And, wrong.  I had another great idea, get La Flor a boyfriend. Enter Little Carmen, now there are three of us. Little Carmen stays until La Flor kicks him out, and then he returns when he grovels to La Flor. There are three of us until Thompson Thomas, Dr. Phil’s alt ego. He’s now TT because two last names as names are confusing.

The four of us are waiting to be seated at a popular San Antonio Mexican restaurant.

“Ray, use your pull, I don’t like to be kept waiting,” said La Flor, speaking while reading texts, viewing Instagram, checking out her Facebook page, and deleting photos on her smartphone that are not of her.

“I don’t have pull or push here,” I said thinking I made a clever joke. No one laughed.

La Flor glanced up from her smartphone, “Then let’s leave. We’ll teach them a lesson they can’t make me wait.” She turned to Little Carmen and TT and added, “Do you agree, LC and TT?” she expected the rapidly submissive and boot licking, ‘Yes, beautiful, tough, and edgy response.’

TT watched Little Carmen for his cue. LC looked at TT for his cue because he wasn’t listening to La Flor he was staring at the hot alt ego woman at the bar who was drinking a margarita and munching on chips. He had a headache from the continued placement of his eyes in the corners of his eye sockets.

“Well, LC,” La Flor demanded.

Little Carmen who, played cards with a deck of fifty-one. He was always a couple of bagels short of a dozen. And, he lit up like a twenty-watt bulb when a hundred watt bulb was needed. He said, “I thinks we gots to stay because the margaritas are hot.”

La Flor turned toward Little Carmen, giving him a full frontal. “Look at me, LC.”

“I am beautiful, tough, and edgy,” said Little Carmen whose face lined up with La Flor’s face with one exception. His eyes were still stuck in the corners of his eye sockets.

“Eye contact or you’ll be singing in the choir with TT,” said La Flor.

Little Carmen’s eyes shot to the front faster than the speed of light. “Is this better?”

“Those are not real,” said La Flor.

Little Carmen had a confused look on his face, “My eyes? Honest, they’re the only ones I have,” he said sincerely, yet one of the worst male moves I’ve ever seen.

I needed to change the subject because it was getting ugly, fast. “I checked, we’re next.”

“Please change our table preference to three,” said La Flor.

“Where’s TT gonna sit,” said Little Carmen.

“Right between Ray and me,” La Flor said.

I whispered to TT, “You got to think about buying a cup. It will be for your own good.”

TT turned his head to me, “From Starbucks?” he asked.

Where do these alt egos come from? Who is creating them? Why are they attracted to my blog? Vexing questions.

If La Flor hadn’t grabbed hold of TT’s arm, he may have fallen to the floor. I was certain he passed out. But, I was wrong, he was doing a poor job of faking he passed out because he kept peeking through narrow slits in his eyelids.

TT who never dated a hot woman, or a woman who was not hot, said, “He can sit on my lap if that helps us all solve the problem.”

TT will quickly learn he can’t please two masters.

Little Carmen pleading nolo contendere said, “I knows whats I was doing, but I wasn’t doing it. May eyes explain (yes, that is the way he said I’s, which baffles me either way).

“You have two strikes LC. Do you know what the third strike means? It’s the death penalty.”

“Not the death penalty. Please, please, please beautiful, tough, and edgy, not the depth penalty (yes, he said depth instead of death). I’ll do anything use wants me to do.”

“I’ll make a list, it starts with a foot massage tonight,” said La Flor.

Out of curiosity, I interjected, “Death penalty, can I have a bit of clarification?” I asked. I glanced at TT who was still jumping around. I pointed to a sign that read “El Bano.” He shrugged. The boy needs to pick up a few Spanish words around here.

“Oh, Ray. You are so knave (I think she meant to say naïve, but then again?).”

“How so?” I asked.

“I will take LC off speed dial. He’ll get lumped with you and everyone else.”

“I’m not on speed dial?” I asked incredulously.

“You were on speed dial, but you got bumped by TT.”

“TT?”

“You don’t suck up to me like TT does, Ray. That’s your problem. TT is really good at sucking up. Right, TT.”

“Yes, beautiful, tough, and edgy,” he squeaked while dancing on one foot.

I thought he hit high C.

 

 

 

Tell Me They’re Zirconium

by

I’m putting the finishing touches on my blog. I’m quite taken with my brilliance. My ability to twist facts into fiction. My complete understanding of human nature and its nuances, until . . .

“Ray! Ray! Ray!” The voice. The blaring, unceasing tonal demand. The refusal to take no for an answer. To cop a phrase, “She’s more beautiful than a runway model. She’s tougher than a tank of barracudas. She’s edgy enough to pull off any look. It’s La Flor.

“What’s up?” La Flor. I said softly and calmly. I watched a PBS special where I learned speaking softly and calmly works wonders on others.

“Whatever you’re doing, stop. Stop! Stop!” she shouted. So much for soft and quiet.

“Do you mean what am I doing now? Or, do you mean what was I doing?” I’m learning with La Flor. I want to get this right. If I don’t, we’ll carry on for four or five paragraphs.

“Tell me it’s not too late. See, I used too correctly. Please, tell me I’m not too late,” La Flor is pleading with me.

“Too late for what? Dinner? Coffee? Desert? Your favorite reality show? Give me a little help,” I said.

“If only LC were here. He would have reached you on time. I can’t run as fast as LC when I’m wearing stilettos.”

I looked at her feet, “Nice stilettos, how much they set you back?”

“Nothing, I used your card.”

“How much did it set me back?” I asked.

“Not as much as my earrings. Like them,” she said placing her palms behind her ears and pushing the lobs a bit forward.

“Tell me they’re zirconium.”

“Seriously, do you think La Flor is going to wear zirconium?”

Opps, back to speaking in the third person. What am I going to do? Get upset over it. Not a chance. I’ll report the card stolen, I thought.

“And, don’t you dare report the card stolen or lost,” she said.

What is she a mind reader?

“I’m listening to mind reading podcasts, and it seems to be working.”

I needed to change the topic, “Is this an emergency?” I asked.

“Of the first, second, and third order. Maybe the fourth, fifth and sixth orders. Maybe a takeout order,” she said.

Remember, I’m a sensitive guy. At least in my own mind. “Sit down La Flor. I’ll get you a glass of water.”

“Something stronger, por favor.”

“Diet Coke?”

“What I would give for a sensitive male,” she hollered.

“That’s me,” I said.

“Get real,” La Flor answered.

What choice did I have? I brought La Flor a glass of white wine and handed it to her. She took a sip. “Where did you buy this? What did you pay, a dollar seventy-five?”

“Hold on. It was on sale for three ninety-eight.”

She set the wine glass down, reached into her expensive leather, made in Italy, handbag, pulled out a tin of breath mints and took at least a half dozen out and chewed them as if she hadn’t tasted food for six weeks. “I’ll never lose the taste. If you ruined my wine tasting buds, I’ll, I’ll ….”

I finished her sentence, “Tell Ray about the emergency.”

Fortunately, La Flor’s attention span is a tad better than mine, that’s not saying much. She said, “Did you publish the blog?”

“As soon as we’re done I’m going to publish it.”

“I’m in time. Hold it. Keep it in draft. Save it for a slow day. Give it away.”

“Why?”

“I’m turning whistleblower,” she said.

“Whistleblower?” I am happy Little Carmen has to deliver pizzas today. I can only imagine what he would have done with the word whistleblower.

“I’m going to tear down walls. I going to bring the big shots down. I’m going to be famous. Maybe I’ll win a Pulitzer Piñata.”

I knew it was too good to last. The doorbell rang.

“Get it, Ray. It’ll be LC. I asked him to bring me an iced skinny latte while on his pizza deliveries.”

I didn’t have to answer the door. “Hey use guys, I gots your skinny, ninny, latte beautiful, tough, and edgy make me drool all over myself. BT, I can never remember the last letter. Anyways, I made this pie all by myself except for the dough, sauce, cheese, and toppings. Oh, I think it was S.”

“S? No, it’s W,” I said.

“What’s W?” a confused Little Carmen said.

“A letter. BTW, we didn’t order a pizza,” I said.

“It’s okay. It’s already paid for. The guy paid by credit card. I think use got it wrong, Ray-Mo. It’s BTS.”

“He won’t get his pizza,” I said.

“Not if he wants this one,” Little Carmen laughed.

La Flor stared at Little Carmen with a cross between a sense of awe and awful. I couldn’t quite make it out. She said, “Come over here and keep me company LC. Don’t talk while I’m talking. Did you know Ray gave me cheap wine?”

Little Carmen had a look of horror on his face, “Ray-mo. Cheap wine. You gotta nerve.”

La Flor put her forefinger to Little Carmen’s lips, “That’s enough, have a piece of pie and play with your smartphone. Ray, where was I?”

I wanted to say ‘the fourth level of insanity but didn’t. “So,” I said, “You are going to be a whistleblower.”

“Is that like those guys with the striped shirts at the football games?” said Little Carmen.

“LC!”

“Sorry, beautiful, tough, and edgy whistleblower.”

Come back tomorrow for the whistleblower’s story.

 

 

 

Repeat Everything I Say

by

“Our planning sessions are a step in the right direction, Ray. We need to do more of these. Like every day. I want fewer of your ideas in the blog, like none. And more of my ideas in the blog, like all,” said La Flor.

“What planning session? We only went out for coffee,” I said.

La Flor looks over at Little Carmen, “Isn’t he cute. Look at him dipping a biscotti into his coffee and watching the excess coffee drip off with the amazed look of a two-year-old child. He can do that for hours.”

“Hours?” I said. Then I attempted to redirect the conversation, “I thought the blog was about you,” I said then taking a sip of my cappuccino.

“Not the real me. Between you and me, there’s to much of him in it (the to instead of too deal again),” La Flor pointing her spoon at Little Carmen. Little Carmen came out of his trance. He followed the tip of the spoon apparently thought it went through him to whoever might be behind him. He turned around and stared an eighty something year old with a beautiful twentyish woman.

He turned back to La Flor, pointed his right thumb into his chest, and said, “The guy with the cute chick, but not as cute as use, giving use the willies, beautiful, tough, and edgy?”

La Flor took a sip of her chai latte then stared at Little Carmen thinking he was pointing to himself. “That is so introspective of you, LC. Would you please tell him to stay out of my conversation with Ray because it’s going to be all about me.”

“Where did you get the word introspection?”

“Either, Ellen, Oprah, or The View. It could have been on Oxygen or Lifetime. Maybe Dr. Phil or Dr. Oz. I’m not sure.” I rarely pay attention to those two when they are attempting the art of communication. Instead, I was sipping my cappuccino and thinking how nice it might be to come to this coffee shop with someone with whom I could have a nice conversation.

“Do you watch TV all day?”

“No, I tell LC to watch my shows and give me a summary. I’m two busy talking too my girlfriends (There’s that to, too, and two thing again – I’m going to have to teach them the difference. It’s driving me nuts). La Flor turned to me and said, “I’ve got this great idea and I want to tell you all about it. I’m going to make the blog a gossip column.”

She continued, “I’ve got this great idea. I’m going to make the blog an alt ego gossip column.”

“Alt ego gossip column? I don’t like gossip,” I said.

“Yah, right, Ray. I watch you reading the headlines on People, Inquirer, and all the other gossip mags at the store,” said La Flor.

“Those are legitimate news sources,” I said defensively. Then I added, “I don’t pick them up off the rack, I only read the headlines and look at the pictures on the cover.”

A slight commotion to my left, or La Flor’s right. We synchronically turned toward where Little Carmen sat, except he wasn’t sitting there. He was standing at the table behind us. He was talking to the beautiful, by any standards, alt ego woman who sat with the old guy, “Listen, babe, dis guy’s old enough to be use grandfather, grandfather. Use can do better.”

She looked at him, “You, for instance?”

“To be perfectly franklin about it, I wood (yes, he confuses wood and would) say yes, but I am taken with the beautiful, tough, and edgy one behind me.”

The old guy was fiddling with his hearing aid. He looked at the woman with him and said, “Tell him the bathroom is over there?” The old timer pointed toward the rear of the coffee shop. “They’re out of toilet paper. It’ll be better if he holds it.”

Little Carmen looked at the old guy, “I don’t has to go number to.”

The old guy yanked the hearing aid out of his ear, then wiped the excess ear wax off on his napkin. “I think I found the problem,” he said.

He looked at Little Carmen, “Can you help me put it back in my ear?”

“Do I looks like a proctologist?” Then he turned back to the woman, “Since use are now heartbroken since I am taken, I will talk two your boyfriends.”

“I do not have two boyfriends (she heard it the way he said it). He’s not my boyfriend, he’s my grandfather,” she said.

La Flor jumped in, “Don’t get any ideas about LC, sister.”

“La Flor!” I said.

“If you want to take it out on the street …” before La Flor continued, I jumped in. “Your tab is on me. I apologize for my guests.”

The old guy accidentally dropped his hearing aid in his coffee and was now trying to fish it out with a spoon.

Little Carmen was watching the action the way a third grader pays attention to a Sunday sermon. He really needs to sharpen his listening skills. He wasn’t sure if he should talk to the woman or to the old guy. He pulled out a quarter and flipped it. He said, “It’s heads.”

La Flor, the old guy, the woman, and I looked at him. Little Carmen didn’t quite know how to handle the attention, he said, “The other side is tails, but not a real tale, I’m not sure what tale or tail I should use here if use don’t mind my depression from the main topic which is I don’t wants use to take sneak peaks on my girl’s blog.”

“Whose girl are you talking about?” said La Flor.

“You go girl,” said the woman with the old guy.

“Thank you, sister,” said La Flor.

Little Carmen said, “Use, my darling.”

La Flor said, “Repeat everything I say.”

“Repeat everything I say,” replied Little Carmen.

“No, you repeat everything I say,” said La Flor a bit of an edge to her voice.

“Do I have to put the edgy on the voice like use, beautiful, tough, and edgy?”

“I am not your darling,” said La Flor.

“I am not your darling,” said Little Carmen. Then he added, “Who is your darling if I am not your darling?” Little Carmen’s eyes looked like a large dog’s sad brown eyes.

“Me,” said La Flor.

“Me?” asked Little Carmen.

“No, not you, me,” said La Flor.

“No, not you, me,” said Little Carmen believing he was still under the repeat everything I say edict.

This could go on for three pages if I didn’t intervene. I called to the waiter, “Can you bring three more biscotti’s, and three fresh coffees?

They both looked at me, “Use gonna share?” asked Little Carmen.

“I prefer a croissant with some butter and real blackberry jelly,” said La Flor.

“As I was saying, Ray. It’s all about me.”

“It is, La Flor. It is,” I agreed.

 

 

 

 

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.

 

 

Can I Chase My Heart Dreams Too?

by

“You are working up a sweat, Ray. Why are you trying to get in shape?”

“Why did you follow me to the Y? I’m already in shape. I’m just trying to get in better shape.”

“The Blog Master asked me to keep an eye on you. You’re on their watch list.”

“Watchlist? A blog watch list? I’m on it?”

“Right at the top, Ray. Let’s face it, I don’t think you’re going to run a marathon. You don’t look like you can make the NBA. You can’t jump high enough. And. I’ve seen you shoot basketballs, you can’t make a layup.

“You think? I almost beat Joey the other day.”

“How old is Joey?”

“Nine. But, I’m getting better. He only beat me by three baskets. Maybe I’m going to be Tom Brady’s backup this year.”

You may as well add winning the Nobel prize, Pulitzer Prize,  and any other prize they give for writing to your dream of being Tom Brady’s backup. I hate to burst your bubble kid, but those dreams are not coming true.

Where did kid come from? My name is Ray. I don’t change it every other day or every day like some people I know. BTW, what’s the name today, Me Lu?

I’m glad you asked. I decided since it is summer, to call myself Sunflower.”

“Sunflower? Why not Rose, since you are filled with thorns.”

Very clever, Ray. Very clever. Not.

“Have you thought of changing your name Ray? I can come up with some good ones for you. The names I will give you will change your persona. They will cause people to respect you, women will be knocking down your door, and money will flow into your bank account.Those are the three wishes of all males in our culture.”

“I have an idea, Sunflower.What if I kept my name and chase the dreams in my heart.”

“Oh, I like that, Ray. Can I chase my heart dreams too?”

“Let’s go for it, Sunflower.”

Dreams that come from our heart are the special ones. They are the dreams that make a difference in our world. They are the dreams that give life to our talent. Our dreams are unique to each of us. Don’t let anyone convince you not to chase your dreams. Sunflower and I are off to chase our dreams. Come along and fly through the cosmos with us.

I Don’t Do Fridge’s, Floors or Flamingos

by

Today is trash day. Three cheers for Tuesday trash day. I’ll add an extra T and make it an alliteration. It’s Tuesday Terrific Trash day. It’s terrific because the trash smells. I decided to clean the refrigerator this past weekend.

“Hold on, Ray. Who cleaned the refrigerator this past weekend?”

“I bolted the door. Set the alarm. How did you bypass my security, Tay?”

“I made friends with a mystery writer on a blog close by. Have to say it, Ray. Her blog is much more interesting than some I’ve read.”

“Why are you rolling your eyes? And, what does your friend’s blog have to do with you bypassing my fool proof system?”

“She’s a mystery writer and wrote a few lines having me pick the lock and disarming the alarm. Simple enough. Go girl power. BTW, we’re having girls’ night out and spending it here.”

“I’m fine with that. Can I join?”

“There you go spoiling everything. We’ll hold it at the mystery writer’s blog. Now, let’s get back to reality, who cleaned the fridge?”

“It was my idea, Tay.”

“Who cleaned the fridge, Ray?”

“Not you.”

“Darn right. I don’t do fridge’s, floors, or flamingos.”

“Where did flamingo’s come from?”

“You started the alliteration thing. Now, fess up, who cleaned it?”

“Maid 911. I didn’t catch her name. She was too busy telling me I need to get rid of outdated and moldy stuff.”

“Now you wonder why I like to eat out, often, very often, every night if possible.”

“No, I never wondered. My fridge sparkles. Smells great.”

“When are you going to fill it?”

“Let me enjoy the clean, almost new feeling.”

“We could have cut this blog in half if you came clean quickly.”

“There are guys who read this blog. Coming clean is a step by step process for my species. It’s like tying a shoe. First, you put your shoe on. Second, check to make sure it’s on the right foot.”

“Stop, Ray. Stop.”

“BTW, can I join you at the mystery writer’s blog?”

Being truthful isn’t easy, especially when it comes to acknowledging something we’ve done or failed to do. Being truthful is important to a healthy, loving relationship. It’s the glue that builds trust one step at a time. 

 

I Need More Than Talk

by

I love thunderstorms. I enjoy the fury of the rain, the wind gusts, and the flashes of lightening. I especially like them at night. They help me to sleep.

“Are you nuts?”

“I thought I gave you the day off,” I said.

“Nice try. I have friends who are frightened by thunderstorms.”

“You don’t have any friends De. I should know. I didn’t create any for you.”

“Scared I’ll organize them?”

“You know it. Besides my name isn’t De. I don’t know where you come up with this nonsense. My name is Te. It’s pronounced like a T and an A.”

“Like Tay?”

“It’s sophisticated and yet, edgy.”

“Where is this coming from?”

“All you’re giving me is dialogue. I need more than talk. When we’re through writing this blog, I’m going to start thinking about the look I want.”

“Let’s get back to the weather, Tay.”

“There’s a reason all the weather apps warn you about thunderstorms. Do you have masochistic tendencies?”

“Where’d you come up with that?”

“I follow a psychologist blog. It helps me to understand you. Don’t worry, I don’t use your name when I comment. I only ask him to check out your blog. WordPress might be contacting you. Don’t blame me. It’s the psychologists who turned you in.”

“I like pro football and that’s dangerous.”

“Again, nice try comparing pro football to a supercell thunderstorm.”

“I didn’t say anything about a supercell thunderstorm.”

“Now we are making progress. You think your description could use a few modifiers?”

“What would the guys at the gym say? I can hear it now. “Here comes Ray. He likes baby thunder, bitty flashes of lightning and wind gusts up to five miles an hour. Tell me how I’m going to handle that?”

“I’ll never understand your species. Honestly, I suppose you want to run out in the middle of the storm and video yourself.”

“You got it.”

Relationship building is hard work. It doesn’t mysteriously happen. Two people make an effort to learn about each other and to create a space for two people to nurture the seeds of a loving relationship. It’s not easy. When two people work at it, it is always worth the effort.

 

 

 

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