Thursday, September 17, 2015

7168. TOO FUNNY IN GRANITE

TOO FUNNY IN GRANITE
'Put down the slate and put down the phone, there's
nothing in here but Mylanta.' Those were the first words
I heard after entering Phalenia's apartment  -  a two-level
bromide on the upper east- side. She was Greek, and her
apparent last boyfriend was still nosing around her bathroom
cabinet looking for something to solve his woes. Booze and
heartburn. I was hoping he'd find olives and go home.
-
It never happened that way  -  he stayed too long and got
too drunk and I did finally have to punch him to get him to 
leave. It was three hours later, and he'd been smelling like
a skunk. Phalenia thanked me for that, and then she just sat
down and peeled off her shirt. 'I'd like to relax now, if you
don't mind.' I said back, 'Mind? I was just thinking the same.'
-
Two days later I was apparently still there and as tired as a
hammered mouse still watching the trap. My new disease, I'd 
found out, was to be called something liked 'coitus neverendus.'
I too out my notebook by the end of day two and started writing.
'You still use pen and paper, you animal you!' I tried explaining
how I really do work on laptops, but I was again afraid she
misunderstand and just put me back to work.

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