Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Next Up: CAFETERIA
Corporate Mike is back in the picture. More scenes from the office, more business lunches, before heading for the green pastures of visits home in smalltown Connecticut...and looming ahead -- layoffs.
DATES, DATES, DATES
"Debbie! What should I do?! Please tell me what to do! Who should I go out with?"
Debbie had never seen her so upset. In fact, she had never seen Nicole display this much emotion before. (Uh-oh. Scary, messy emotions!)
"I don't know. Wait a minute, I'm thinking. I'll tell you in a minute." She drew in her breath.
"You had a date with "H," right? And now, Alex is coming over?"
"Well, sort of. What should I do?! 'H' is so nice. And Alex just called. He'll be here in five minutes!" she exclaimed, as if just remembering.
"Can you go out with both?"
Nicole, in her bewilderment, yet remained stunningly beautiful, her yellow hair pinned up in a ponytail that spilled across her forehead, her eyes bluer than usual, reflecting her alarm. Her black leather micro mini stretched perfectly across her small waist, the striped sailor tee a perfect topper.
"I'm going to call 'H.' I'll tell him I'm tired."
She returned from the bedroom turned dressing room.
"I feel so bad! H is so nice! What should I do? Should I tell Alex no? Should I tell him to leave?"
"You could try. It's worth a try." Debbie tried, without success, to ease her roommate's jangled nerves.
"He said, I know you have a date tonight; I'm coming over with a bottle of champagne."
Debbie flung herself from her hot soothing steam bath. She could not stand this any longer. She wrapped herself in the thick blue towel, the bubbles and suds still clinging to her soaked skin. She could hear Nicole, just outside the door.
"Would you please just let me go? Please." She pleaded to the plastic yellow banana.
"Nicole!" Debbie emerged from the bathroom, dripping wet. "Go out with H. This guy is a JERK," she whispered loudly, pointing to the living room. Nicole looked at the ceiling in distress and sighed.
The alarm went off promptly at 6:45. Debbie dragged herself out of her stolen sleep, and made her way toward the shower.
She was just about to leave the apartment for a hectic day at the office when she saw the envelope. It said "Nicole" and it was torn in half. She took two more steps, toward the door and then, by the mechanized banana, lay the note.
Debbie had never seen her so upset. In fact, she had never seen Nicole display this much emotion before. (Uh-oh. Scary, messy emotions!)
"I don't know. Wait a minute, I'm thinking. I'll tell you in a minute." She drew in her breath.
"You had a date with "H," right? And now, Alex is coming over?"
"Well, sort of. What should I do?! 'H' is so nice. And Alex just called. He'll be here in five minutes!" she exclaimed, as if just remembering.
"Can you go out with both?"
Nicole, in her bewilderment, yet remained stunningly beautiful, her yellow hair pinned up in a ponytail that spilled across her forehead, her eyes bluer than usual, reflecting her alarm. Her black leather micro mini stretched perfectly across her small waist, the striped sailor tee a perfect topper.
"I'm going to call 'H.' I'll tell him I'm tired."
She returned from the bedroom turned dressing room.
"I feel so bad! H is so nice! What should I do? Should I tell Alex no? Should I tell him to leave?"
"You could try. It's worth a try." Debbie tried, without success, to ease her roommate's jangled nerves.
"He said, I know you have a date tonight; I'm coming over with a bottle of champagne."
Debbie flung herself from her hot soothing steam bath. She could not stand this any longer. She wrapped herself in the thick blue towel, the bubbles and suds still clinging to her soaked skin. She could hear Nicole, just outside the door.
"Would you please just let me go? Please." She pleaded to the plastic yellow banana.
"Nicole!" Debbie emerged from the bathroom, dripping wet. "Go out with H. This guy is a JERK," she whispered loudly, pointing to the living room. Nicole looked at the ceiling in distress and sighed.
The alarm went off promptly at 6:45. Debbie dragged herself out of her stolen sleep, and made her way toward the shower.
She was just about to leave the apartment for a hectic day at the office when she saw the envelope. It said "Nicole" and it was torn in half. She took two more steps, toward the door and then, by the mechanized banana, lay the note.
Dear Nicole:
I must apologize for the foolish and very immature way in which I reacted last night.
It was very selfish of me and I hope you will forgive my impatience.
I know how you must be feeling, and that you are very confused about everything that is happening
in your life. And I really do understand how you feel. Again, I hope you will forgive
my thoughtlessness because I do care about you.
Please do not come over to say goodbye to me tomorrow morning.
It would hurt me too much to see you for a few brief minutes
before leaving for Japan.
It would make the next two weeks very difficult for me.
I ws hoping to spend my last night here with you.
Just remember that I really do care about you and I love you.
H
"See? We're just good friends --," Nicole was saying and as Alex read the last line, she gasped.
"I don't believe it! Someone normal who cares about me! Do you know, Alex, I am so touched by that?! I am so touched! Will you be leaving soon?"
Alex stood up. He walked to the marble and gilt-edged end table. He picked up a small piece of paper.
"Very clever, aren't you? Isn't it so easy just to run away," Alex read. He looked at Nicole and walked toward the door. But he mistakenly opened the door to the back bedroom where Vladmir was asleep.
Nicole giggled deliriously and shrieked.
"I'm going to leave now. It looks like you've got a little too much going on in your life."
"I'll try to fit you in," Nicole promised with a smile.
The leather couch was vacant. The envelope lay on the floor, the note rested by the phone, and the cord of the banana stretched toward the door. Debbie had only one guess about Nicole's final decision last night.
0843D
Well...I think that's enough for today, don't you???...* * * :) (Denise...Denise Dances...at the Surf Club...1988)
"50 First Dates"
EXCERCISE (is the name of the latest post in the chapter of Debbie's life, FOOL'S GOLD. But I am here to say THANX AGAIN for reading my "Collective Blog." 50 anonymous hits to my blog on Monday, August 16th, the day after the festival! but I know who you are...Keep reading!) The doorbell rang. It was Vladmir. A burst of exuberant sound filled the hallway for an instant before Maxine shut the door.
A black and white divider revealed no clue as to the present occupant of the living room and what that occupant was doing. The CD player erupted, spitting forth ecstatic cheers about "a new sensation."
Somewhere in the dark living room, Nicole was performing her daily catharsis, kicking and jumping all the tension out of her body.
"Hi,Vladmir!" Debbie shouted cheerily, having just emerged from the bathroom where she was painting her fingernails a bright coral or orange, as some would have seen it. She resumed her perch, sat on the closed lid of the white toilet bowl, and finished her nails, painting them atop the latest fashion magazine. Its brightly colored pages reflected the white walls. The stagelights above the mirror provided more than ample light.
"I just come to pay Nicole for phone bill. And my sleeping bags."
Debbie shrugged and looked questioningly toward the living room. "She's excercising." She knew it would be useless to call the jumping jack's name over that loud insane music. She was giggling, as usual.
"You seem happy," Vladmir smiled.
"Oh, I am," she giggled. She spread out her left hand, and examined the coral paint for smudges. Nicole would be in there for a while.
"Poor Debbie. She'll be out of there soon," Maxine motioned to the living room. "How have you been, Vladmir? I'm so surprised to see you."
Vladmir followed Maxine into the narrow white pantry.
"I'd offer you something but we don't have anything. How about a glass of water?" Debbie shouted after him. And she burst into a fit of giggles, echoing in the white bathroom.
0843D
A black and white divider revealed no clue as to the present occupant of the living room and what that occupant was doing. The CD player erupted, spitting forth ecstatic cheers about "a new sensation."
Somewhere in the dark living room, Nicole was performing her daily catharsis, kicking and jumping all the tension out of her body.
"Hi,Vladmir!" Debbie shouted cheerily, having just emerged from the bathroom where she was painting her fingernails a bright coral or orange, as some would have seen it. She resumed her perch, sat on the closed lid of the white toilet bowl, and finished her nails, painting them atop the latest fashion magazine. Its brightly colored pages reflected the white walls. The stagelights above the mirror provided more than ample light.
"I just come to pay Nicole for phone bill. And my sleeping bags."
Debbie shrugged and looked questioningly toward the living room. "She's excercising." She knew it would be useless to call the jumping jack's name over that loud insane music. She was giggling, as usual.
"You seem happy," Vladmir smiled.
"Oh, I am," she giggled. She spread out her left hand, and examined the coral paint for smudges. Nicole would be in there for a while.
"Poor Debbie. She'll be out of there soon," Maxine motioned to the living room. "How have you been, Vladmir? I'm so surprised to see you."
Vladmir followed Maxine into the narrow white pantry.
"I'd offer you something but we don't have anything. How about a glass of water?" Debbie shouted after him. And she burst into a fit of giggles, echoing in the white bathroom.
0843D
Monday, August 16, 2010
THE WIND
The dainty tune of a child's music box carried on the wind which circled their top apartment, as the windows curved around the corner of the luxury doorman building. It flowed through the open windows of the bare white living room, gusting over from the soft blue lights of the Palisades and the far West Side, wrapping itself around distant highrise apartments and swaying the blue lights strung over the George Washington Bridge.
The wind came from remote points north, beyond the quiet residences of Harlem, beyond the far reaches of the New Jersey horizon, beyond the mysteries of the Upper West Side.
Restless, it invaded Penthouse Fourteen, lapping at the windows as if waves on a summer night.
Papers flew around the room, untethered.
Not unlike the tide of the ocean, rushing and receding, it whipped around the corner of Penthouse Fourteen, now rough, now gentle. The swish of traffic below was punctuated by the occasional horn honking.
The wind created an ever present hush. Though still, it ventured away from the penthouse but always returning.
0843D
(Debbie! You live in a penthouse???)
The wind came from remote points north, beyond the quiet residences of Harlem, beyond the far reaches of the New Jersey horizon, beyond the mysteries of the Upper West Side.
Restless, it invaded Penthouse Fourteen, lapping at the windows as if waves on a summer night.
Papers flew around the room, untethered.
Not unlike the tide of the ocean, rushing and receding, it whipped around the corner of Penthouse Fourteen, now rough, now gentle. The swish of traffic below was punctuated by the occasional horn honking.
The wind created an ever present hush. Though still, it ventured away from the penthouse but always returning.
0843D
(Debbie! You live in a penthouse???)
The Apartment in Disarray
First I want to thank everyone for reading my Collective Blog. (25 hits last Thursday) Penthouse Fourteen was growing smaller and smaller, it seemed. Slowly the luxury two-bedroom corner unit was transformed into a collection of multipurpose rooms whose uses were: 1) an art gallery showcasing oriental, impressionistic, and other original art forms; 2) a playroom for the storage of hot rods, model airplanes, remote control army tankers, tall ships and assorted vehicles; 3) a bedroom divided by three chairs, behind which rested a zebra-print quilt (a ready-made bed); and 4) a pool hall (for the use of shooting some pool on a miniature green table with tiny net baskets).
0843D
0843D
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
What's Next?
What's going to happen to Debbie next? Will she move to another locale in the City? Will she move back home to Connecticut? And when, oh when, will she ever find Love? Click on the FOLLOW widget button gadget thing and find out!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)