Immaculate....or a Dice Game

     I am a firm believer in bumper sticker wisdom. The truest, most life-defining things can be said in under 10 words and should be affixed to cars.

     ‘Live Simply so that Others May Live’.
     ‘This Car Will Become Unmanned During the Rapture’…
     ‘My Other Car is a Golf Cart’…

     Yesterday I sold Eric’s new Toyota Prius, purchased just 2 weeks ago for $32,000, fully loaded, custom paint.  It is a trendy car with exceptional gas mileage, but not as economical as his newer golf cart, which is also, truly, more ‘sporty’.     

     Yesterday afternoon, right after he left to play golf,  I taped FOR SALE signs in the windows and parked the Prius down at the QUIK-E-LUBE-N-CURL (they recently added a salon). 

     The car sold to the first caller, within an hour; someone who was getting a perm and a weave!  Since it was used, I bartered the buyer down to $15,000, and some personal services. I’m going to buy something spectacular for the yard. Maybe I’ll also get Eric a new golf outfit…

     Kym and I were drinking large glasses of GIN GIN GIN (ala minty-licious chewing gum inspired cocktails) in the kitchen when Eric came home from the Club.
     “Where’s my car?” he asked.
     “You were just riding in it…” I responded, glibly.
     “Uh….that was my CART. Where is my CAR?”
     “I sold it. You don’t need 2 cars.”
     “!!!KATY!!!” He cried, “THAT WAS MY CAR!”
     “Simplify! simplify! How many vehicles can one man UNMAN during Rapture??? All those “cars” and “carts” clogging up our driveway were beginning to stink of bourgeoisie. PLUS it clashed with my landscape plans.”

     Eric glared out the window where his car used to be. I had the row of soiled Vaginas, waiting to be cleaned, in its place.     Suddenly, he became more animated. He was doing something like the potty dance and pointing outside. 

     Yahtzee was pulling into the driveway in his new car. A brand new desert mural decorated the back and sides: Howling coyote, sunset, cow skull. Enormous twin fuzzy Prozac™ capsules hung from the rear view mirror. The bumper was already plastered with clashing sentiments.

 “THIS CAR STOPS AT ALL GARAGE SALES!”

“WALDEN IS A STATE OF MIND”

“ANOTHER CANNIBAL FOR PRO-LIFE”“I’M A PRO-CHOICE VEGAN”

“BABY ON BOARD”

It soared hideous to new heights.  The happy coincidence that HE was my FIRST CALLER failed to impress Eric.   

     “You know, I really do like his hair like that!” I admitted. Jet black and curly like the 70’s. He looked good behind the wheel of the car formerly known as Eric’s.It was just the beginning of coincidences.

     Kym suggested that we spend an hour or so skulking around child care centers. It was getting close to feeding time, she said, and, just like at the zoo, the little creatures would be especially active.  We brought little bags of crunchy corn and peanuts. For practical reasons, we left Andre with Yahtzee. Andre loves new cars. Happily, the leather seats are easy to clean.    

     While we sat on the little plastic mushrooms on springs at the YMCA childcare playground, I noticed that Kym wasn’t her usual self. She did not join in ridiculing the toddlers.

     “Look at that little girl with the braids!” I said, “Poor thing, she looks 30!”     “She is 30, Katy; she’s a teacher.”

     “Oh sweet jesus, you are right; she’s a wee person. She should try harder to dress in grownup clothes.  That romper does nothing for her figure.”     “I am pregnant.” Kym said.

     “What?”     “PREGNANT. I’M PREGNANT.” She raved. 

Romper girl scowled in our direction.  We had been warned about “language” and “hogging the mushrooms.”

     The children were starting to get restless. Throwing corn and peanuts only seemed to work on some, mostly the chubbier, or anyone with marker stains around their lips.  The majority, however, were milling around us, arms crossed. Standing. Staring. Rude.
I rocked harder with authority.

    “Well…it’s a good thing you got married, then!” I said brightly.    

     “GODDAMN IT, KATY, could you try to not be disgusting? That baby was not fathered by MY MONKEY”

     The Wee Warden was now storming our way.     Kym slowly dismounted her toadstool as the grubby little crowd thickened, led by their Queen.

    “Yahtzee is the Dad.” She sighed.    

    “OHMYGOD!” I fell off my mushroom, or was pushed.  A mean little fat boy took my place immediately.

Comments

[Mattinak]

Reprise indeed. Always knew you and the team would return. You couldn’t help it, of course.