Tuesday, July 25, 2017
Places
At home:
Her! Always.
He all but explodes
into a Hitler Salute daily.
But at work:
absorbs a score of
good mornings,
most fearful.
Goes it thus for years.
BOSS.
Enter, then, mincing:
Mistress.
And emotions ripped from
his fat chest.
Mme Hitler learns everything
and finds it hilarious. She does,
however, make sure of her future.
Divorce not necessary if he’s
locked in to this deal.
For now.
He signs.
Mistress acquires phantom illnesses.
Other two talk her down from sighs.
This is, however, not a nice story.
Gets worse no matter what
the parties essay.
Thank God nobody else cares!
Though they’re creative, actually.
(Last, wife works out condo deal
for amusing Mistress.)
The 3.
And get to liking that in each other.
Labels: arrangement, condo, divorce, Hitler, mistress, pact, triangle
Thursday, October 29, 2015
Couples
-She's her own worst enemy.
-That's only at work! Goes home
to a World-Class Son-of-a-bitch!
-Then it's tit for tat time?
-In spades! The condo board is tossing
them out. Their interminable fights have
shoved the building’s foundation a full inch!
-So they deserve each other? Big Deal!
Besides, who sees them all the time?
They may have worked a truce.
-And what they're doing to make everybody
else miserable is the result?
-Enough! Life is too short. Let us speak
of a sweet couple!
-A WHAT?
Labels: condo, condo board, couple, couple fighting, fighting, marriage, misery, relationship
Saturday, October 17, 2015
His Evolution
After he started thrashing, Cecily insisted on twin beds,
cluttering his tiny studio further.
Shortly after, she left. Business trip to San Francisco...
where she decided to stay, hiring on with a weight loss
emporium. She chatted of her boss quite a bit, and then
the phone calls ceased.
Brad piled bills on her bed.
Enter Brennan. Yes, Brennan! Female. He often sang the
phrase Brennan On the Moor, which she found to be just
another of his Irish eccentricities.
Brennan had inherited a penthouse condo from beloved
Uncle Maxie. So, Brad gave his landlord notice,
Offering to leave the “furnishings.”
He took the bills from the bed, most had been paid, and
burned them on a grill in Rupp Park.
And became quite willingly neater and cleaner in the
luxurious digs.
One morning from her frantic cell: “I forgot the gray
attache case!” It evidently held documents equal to
Magna Carta, so Brad trundled it down the elevator
to meet Brennan’s squealing tires resounding in the garage.
Still in robe and pajamas, so she erupted “Aren’t you
going to WORK?”
“I thought I’d give it a shot.”
She shook her head and barreled out of there.
For some reason, the elevator shuddered at their floor.
“Good dog!”
From.
Him.
Issued.
Labels: Brennan on the Moor, condo, dog, Irish, living together, Magna Carta, penthouse, relationship
Saturday, October 03, 2015
Family
The Final Sound
Gramps played with the new electric windows in his condo
till bedtime. Micks never saw him this happy.
Destry and Louise lit on Micks that next week. “It’s Phoenix!
Clamp the windows and crack up the A/C! But you wanted
to throw our money out the fancy-pancy windows!”
His Power of Attorney was actually none of their business.
The old man wanted the windows and Micks complied.
Anyway, they were no longer in the will after Gramps had
bankrolled their decorating business.
“Oh, they just don’t like you. Queer-Adver!” This from his
long-time partner, Rhett But.
Who, of course, made it a trademark to drop the final sound
at times.
Following month, all Gramps’ diseases assembled into a
Final Stroke.
The estate was easy for Micks. The old man had given
most away and had just lived on his pensions. They died
with him.
Destry and Louise got their oar in, or tried. Hinting that
they should get half of the proceeds of the condo sale.
“When you’re, anyway, throwing the money out those
fancy windows anyway...?”
Actually, the portion they coveted was slated for the
Humane Society.
“As a Christian,” Rhett But maintained to Micks. “I want you
to do more than the right thing! As to your toxic relatives?
Well...now...I must remind you, and me: Judge that you not be!”
So Micks wrote a check for the entire amount to The Humane Society.
Louise and Destry felt terribly wronged in the name of Family.
“Long live Fido and Fluffy!” they sneered.
But a new commission seized their greedy mind. A mountain
village of three thousand “cottages.” Lucerne!
“Oh! Swiss Roh-COH!” squealed Rhett.
The hilarity lasted through the Suns Game that night. A good
thing, since they performed listlessly against the Los Angeles Lake.
Labels: condo, Family, family conflicts, gay couple, Humane Society, inheritance, Lakers, Suns, will
Monday, June 01, 2015
How Arrangements Arrange
Going Condo
My studio apartment is unique in having a nice kitchen.
Tillie McGregor often moaned to me that she couldn’t
make a decent cup of tea, for one. Never mind the
“biscuits,” or cookies.
The lingering odor of the latter when I return proves
worth the minor inconvenience.
Well, really, none of that. As she now uses my kitchen just
after I leave for work. Our two studios have a common door,
which has never been locked, we discover. No, no need to
go through the hallway for her.
Unlike Laurel, we call her Laurie of Wales, who begged
to get hands one my small upright piano, left by a previous
tenant, drunk, and untouched by me. Except for my once in
a blue moon dusting. She would ordinarily go through the
hallway, but Tillie grants permission to enter her apartment first.
She practices while Tillie bakes.
Of course, she must perform, and so the women hold a sort of
recital-feast for me weekly. No bachelor ever happier!
In the foreign exchange section of the bank where both work,
they have chosen to start at noon. Strangely to a non-banker,
but I guess there’s reasonable activity in that period.
When the reasonable activity at my apartment changed a trifle,
I couldn’t put my finger on. Or with whom first. And then...
bit later...cold evenings, three of us buzzed...
Somewhere in there the place went condo, and we bought
our units.
Which we didn’t spare the expense modeling into one.
I treated to the king bed, state of the art.
I know, I know: women will fight in such an arrangement.
Never a cross word, but plenty of hearty Scotch food topped
off with smoky whisky, and lusty hymns from the mines
and moors!
Thunder might issue from pulpits, so these we avoid.
Don’t miss ‘em one damn bit!
Labels: condo, living arrangement, menage de triois, relationships
Saturday, January 10, 2015
Water and Depth
His Friend, Ridge
-You know, Ridgey, my condo‘s on a river. Water, yes?
-I’m following.
-It’s pretty at sunset, and when the dolphins come, but I don’t go into it any further than that.
-So what?
-Thoreau makes me guilty with all the detail about Walden Pond.
-Hey! He’s a philosopher. Deeper and deeper into shit!–-what they do.
-I still don’t feel quite right...
-Look at me! Omar Khayyam says I was never deep in anything save wine? Well, I was never deep in anything, period!
-You exaggerate!
-Understate.
Labels: condo, depth, Omar Khayyam, Philosophy, Thoreau, Walden, water
Sunday, August 25, 2013
Old Jail Karma
New Condo
Max didn’t like the karma of leaving a couple
of cells intact in the recreation wing.
The contractors had locked their tools in one.
Renata laughed it off. “I just know we got a beautiful
new apartment! So it was a prison, full of the stink
of desperate men. That was then! Now, Mickey
and Chippy can play like mad in the old walking
yard, if that’s what they called it."
But one of the King Charles Spaniels bit a teasing child,
and a law suit appeared in their mailbox.
Then Chippy started staggering and the vet thought
it was something he ate, or was fed him.
And after Mr Hogart, retired shop teacher, was mugged
in their apartment’s vicinity, they started staying in
more.
Renata’s Brother came and mounted a 60 inch TV on
the beige wall.
“This place is built!” he proclaimed. “What the hell, it was
a fortress.”
Max joined the newly formed Condo Watch Group,
“Though I’m nearly under indictment, or something.”
R. Rindle, the lawyer, settled, though, so that the problem
went away.
“The amount is reasonable, but I won’t tell you exactly
until the siege calms down. Medical look at the brat,
and not all that much more.”
The couple got caught up in their activities, so began to
get out quite a bit more. Max heading up the watch group
in their wing, and Renata taking Thai cooking lessons in the
beautiful kitchen next to the cells.
Max started playing pool with some of the watch guys
on the lovely red table outside the kitchen.
They both walked the spaniels and chatted with the
new move-ins and the relative veterans.
“Still bad karma, but everywhere is.”
“Karma-shmarma!” she answered. “We worked like dogs
to get here. I’m for enjoying life, and the hell with
everything else!”
Labels: condo, karma, prison, retirement
