"So...I woke up in the backseat of my old Mercedes sedan.

At least I was not in jail...or worse.

I appeared to be parked behind a bar in Buckhead...jammed between a dumpster and somebody's meth fueled idea of what a monster street legal truck should look like.

Never mind...

I crawled out and did a circuit of the 280S.
No obvious physical damage...doubtful I ran down any pedestrians last night.

I start feeling around in my pockets...wallet, good....some cash, good.....Keys! even better..

I pop open my trunk and find what I am looking for.

A couple cans of Schweppes ginger ale and a half liter of Smirnov vodka.

I pop the top on one the ginger ales, drink a bit but pour most of it out until the can is half empty...then refill it with the vodka.

Then I sit in the drivers seat of my old Mercedes and just sip.

I have been lucky this time.
I am not in jail and I have awoken in time to avoid the shakes and the vomitting.

Now to remember what day it is....and what I have to do...."

So...whaddya think? Can I sell it?

I want more...

I'm diggin' it.

"I turn on the car radio and learn it is now Monday morning....good news and bad news.

Good news it is morning...I work at night and have some hours to get myself straight.

Bad news it is Monday...I will be expected to show up for work at the english style pub "Goodchilds"...(myself and my evil fellow employees call it "Jivechilds"...) and actually perform the duties of a waiter/bartender/cook whatever the bleedin' hell needs doing type person...in about five hours.

I feel around in my pockets again...find my keys and that glorious 68 280S which I never deserved (British racing green) fires up like a champ and I limp home....less than three miles away.

To my bizarre apartment....the whole top floor of a mansion on Peachtree Street in Buckhead....owned by the company in which my mother is the Executive Comptroller....

Absolutely DEVOID of furniture unless you count the foam pad I sleep on and the litter box for my two frequently confused cats, Syntax and Axiom.

Chicks are often impressed when I tell them my address....and then when they see the huge empty space I live in they sometimes think Wow! What I could do with this!.....But the smart ones, the ones who trust their own instincts flee at the obvious evidence there is something wrong here.....

But I will be damned and go to hell if one of the less smart ones....or perhaps too softhearted...is not sitting on my steps....her eyes closed and trembling.

I cannot....Cathy? Is it Cathy?....DAMN! I do not want to hurt her feelings!....

I shake her shoulder and she opens her eyes and does a pretty darn good imitation of not being sick and shakey.

We walk up to my apartment....I pull the unopened ginger ale out my flight jacket pocket.

I pour half into one glass and half into another...then top it off with vodka.

I have yet to share a word with...Cathy?

There is no need.

She sits on the floor in my bare living room...sipping her drink....the drink that saves her from the hell of alcohol withdrawal....and I go feed Syntax and Axiom."

I continue to dig it.

...Cathy? sounds perfect. Doesn't talk, doesn't mind being out in the cold, and not smart enough to take you for everything you've got.

If you are going to be a true junkie, make it peppermint snapps instead of vodka.

"Living with a Dragon"

I see you found my ex-girlfriend

"On the weekends I always leave the cats big bowls of dry food and water in case I don't make it back and I am happy to see that neither one is completely empty.

Their litter box is a mess and I just dump it into a garbage bag and refill it.

By this time I have remembered who Cathy is...we went to highschool together.

I ran into her a little over a year back when she was the cook in a bar called Gammons..the tables all had backgammon boards on them.

We had slept together a few times.
Always at my place.

It was enjoyable but there was no real connection.

I walk back out into the living room and Cathy is sitting in front of my empty fireplace... (this place was built before central heat and air conditioning and it has high ceilings, many large heavily screened windows and fireplaces in the living rooms and bedrooms)... tracing the gray lines in the white marble facings with her fingers.

I suddenly remember that I have seen her do this before.

I sit down next to her with my drink and a few minutes later ask, "What happened?"

She is obviously feeling much less shakey but still has a hunted animal look in her eyes.

She replies, "Could I stay here for just a few days?....you have so much room...and I thought maybe it would be OK if I just camp out in a corner."

Now, in truth I do have a few possesions.

My clothes, my books stacked on the floor, the loaded M-1 carbine leaning in a corner near my foam pad covered with a sheet bed and a small B&W portable TV.

But...ripping me off hardly seems worth it and I have no memory of Cathy ever seeming the type.

I tell her OK. I have to get ready for work.

I clean up and change (a few things I do at least always have on hand are clean towels, soap and shampoo.)

I unload the M-1 and toss it onto a shelf in a closet so high you need a stepladder or chair to get up there.

On my way out I tell Cathy to move the little TV anywhere she wants and feel free use the huge tub in my bathroom if she wants.

I leave her what's left of the vodka and then give her $5.00 in case that does not last until I return about 4:30AM.

There is no food in the house but I know she will not want any.

Work...was work....

Why my employer Susan Goodchild put up with my weirdness was a mystery to me but she did.

Maybe it was my willingness to do anything needing to be done in the pub.

When we closed up I grabbed a liter of Wolfschmiddt vodka and a quart of orange juice from behind the bar and held it up so Susan could see it....she shook her head.

Then I grabbed two cheese burgers and fries and coleslaw that I had cooked myself and packed up earlier in the kitchen.

When I got home I was halfway suprised to find Cathy still there.

She had obviously washed her hair and cleaned up.

Syntax and Axiom were both lying across her legs and purring while she watched some old movie on channel 17 on the B&W portable she had moved into the living room and placed in front of the fireplace.

I carried my stuff into the kitchen.

The $5.00 bill was lying on the counter.

I put the food on big platters (stolen from Goodchilds) and poured us both really stiff screwdrivers.

I took everything back to the livingroom and sat down on the floor next to Cathy.

She took a few deep sips of her drink...she was right on the edge but hiding it....

In a few minutes I said, "What happened?".

She took a couple more sips which calmed her a bit more and almost whispered, "My boyfriend left me. He just disappeared while I was gone and took everything in the apartment."

We sat and sipped our drinks for a few minutes more, watching that old movie.

And we knew...for at least the next few hours...everything would be OK."

Tell me where to get it and I'll buy it.

quote:

Originally posted by airsoft guy:
Tell me where to get it and I'll buy it.

If anybody is willing to risk publishing it I will.

It is always best to write about things you know...

..."Now it occurs to me that I have failed to mention something about Cathy.

In highschool she was a classic JAP...Jewish American Princess....and what has happeened to her in the six years since is a mystery to me.

My own current circumstances were pretty much inevitable and predictable to anyone paying attention.

Cathy had that slightly olive tinted skin and dark tightly curled hair you sometimes see in women of Jewish descent.

Large dark eyes, and almost as tall as me.
Firm long muscles..very strong.

Small breasts, flaring hips...she looked to me almost Greek in a classical way.

She was quite beautiful.

And...she had somehow come to this point of showing up at my door seeking some temporary refuge from sleeping in her car....a beat up Toyota Corolla.

I was happy to comply....she was good company and my cats liked her.

And at least for awhile the world outside my door did not have us both by the throat."