alz

FEWER INTERRUPTIONS

It would appear, sir, that your goose is cooked.

But I did not order goose!

Well goose is what you get. It’s our only fowl of the evening.

No…not your only foul. Your Temperament leans hard in that direction, as well.

Oh?

That’s right.

So I would be wise to lighten up?

Enlightenment dawns.

Please continue....

My wife, Mrs. Neal, is having affairs with young boys…lads half her age and last night I was awakened by a man talking…a rather Germanic…Austrian…young...  A boy, with cellular phone tight to his ear. I did not recognize the voice, or the words spoken, but there was a rhythm – distinctly Germanic. He laughed. The mood in the middle of the night, a man pacing on the wet street below my window was decidedly light. Something was astir. He laughed. He spoke loud and was eager as he picked up the pace of his stroll, executing a clipped, tight, one-footed pivot at each extreme. His foot falls and voice ricocheting off building walls, surely waking others, but he seemed oblivious and uncaring. Twenty feet up, spin, twenty feet back, spin, and so on. "Stop laughing aloud, ha-ha, and just continue walking," I begged, but I suspect he had arrived at his destination and was biding his time. I watched him, a stranger, and I knew he was speaking to her. Flirtatious. Then I wandered the entire flat before realizing she had not come home that evening. Oh, I often go to bed before her. She closes down, I open up. It’s just the nature of the business and the beast I thought I knew, but perhaps her nature is more carnal than I ever considered. She says she feels she gets the most done after-hours  when there are fewer interruptions and ten o’clock is not untypical. Now I’m starting to suspect that it might be true. Fewer interruptions. Somebody needs to run the business. I trust her to do that. What about the stranger? Do I trust him? Do I trust them? I pulled back the blind to see and he looked straight up. I think he saw me watching, but it did not faze him and he laughed into his cell phone. I suspect she was laughing with him.

In that case, may I recommend the Goose?

I think so.

Driving

“I could just sit here and listen to the frogs…”

"You need a jacket?"

"That might be good. Getting damp."

She was right, the mist was just rising from the pond and a light breeze was drifting it our way.

"I’ll get one from the car."

A few minutes later I was back. I kept a softball jacket in the trunk in case I got cold or had to do mechanical work on the old clunk in an emergency, and on the odd chance I was dressed nice. Ruined a good suit jacket one night, on one such odd occurrence, just jumping a dead battery. One hundred forty dollars is a big loss nowadays and I learned a lesson: Cover the nice threads.  

She was curled up staring into the pitch black water.

“Here you go,” I held it up, not much more than a rag in her eyes, I could tell.

“Oh great.” She said, grateful despite the soils.

“Watch out for the grease. It ‘s a work jacket…all I got.”

“It’s warm. That’s all that counts. Smells good…”

“Ha,” I wasn’t ready for that one. “Must be the grease.”

“Yes. The grease and the sweat. It’s a man’s jacket. A bit of aftershave, maybe… no cheap cologne ever smelled this good, and that’s pretty much the type I seem to get – Overwhelming and Assaulting.”

“Fishing in the wrong ponds?”

“Fishing where there are big fish…wearing cologne.”

“Then you can’t complain. Your choice.”

"Got no choice."

"You know…Sometimes you snag a nice prize up some of these back hill creeks…ponds like this here...and they can put up a real good fight…”

“Oh I am sure. But that takes time, luck, and patience and those are things I don’t have.”

“Why. What’s the rush?”

“Man chasing me.”

“Cologne man?”

“He was before prison. I suspect he’s one again.”

“He’s out?”

“Uh-hmm”

“Is this a chase? He chasing you down?”

“I suppose.”

“You the rabbit?”

“You can’t tell?”

“Oh yeah. The ears.”

“ The tail.”

“I DID notice the ears…”

“He angry at you?”

"Very."

"Should he be?"

"Very."

"Very very?"

"Is 'Kill me'…very, very…enough?"

"Very much so."

"That’s what he’s thinking."

"And you’re saying he’s somehow justified?"

"Not in the eyes of the law, but perhaps in the eyes of the lord."

"A mortal sin?"

"Were it only one…"

"So you were both sinners."

"At one time that would be fair to say."

"But murder?"

"Justifiable homicide."

"Is there such a thing? And are you worthy of his justification? His Justice? I mean...I doubt the Lord would approve."

"Ha! I doubt the Lord, period. And he hates him..."

"Does he?"

"He’d spit in his face."

"And risk eternity in hell?"

"He’s already done that... been bit and hit before... Hell is where he lives. In his head are mean squirming demons screaming to get out. Screaming to get ME..."

"And he’s capable..."

"Oh yes. He is capable at a passing fancy, and even more so when driven."

"And he’s…?"

"Driving."