Sunday, June 03, 2012
How Do You Say Banana Daiquiri?
Grizzled old head pops over his cube, scarlet face.
“Can still hear the woodwinds. They carry better
on the breeze than the oom-pah-pahs. Never run
after the parade. It's passed, and the faster you
run, more it gets away.”
He phones Gretchen with the bizarre account.
“Missed it, huh? No fuckin surprise there!”
She was still bitter at having been laid off from the Dentist, who brought in his girlfriend after his divorce.
“At any rate, I lift a glass to the passing parade.
Moves me so, I might do it again!”
Gretchen was proving over-sibilant.
Tells accountant Jerry who quips “Yeah any parade's
far gone from us! But why don't they have security here?
Bums wander at will. Hey! Do what I did! Two part plan:
buy philosophy books and bore the shit out of yourself
for a year. Then, ketchup Corvette!”
He goes to boardroom to study himself in the full-length
mirror the tycoons use to check their entrance.
"Lumpy," he concludes.
Lunch at Reading Terminal Market where he buys
the greens and fruits to get them eating healthy again.
An afternoon call enrolls Gretchen in a support group
called Tomorrow. She’ll dress beautifully and con them
until they turn on her.
When he gets home she has passed out at the kitchen island mid a blender spinning nothing. He drops his grocery bag among scattered banana daiquiri makings.
Get her into the shower after checking the mail.
Then, they cook.
Labels: alcohol, office, parade
