Text 27042, 105 rader
Skriven 2009-08-04 15:31:00 av MICHAEL LOO (1:123/140)
Ärende: end of good feeling 980
===============================
Burt Ford, I'll never forgive you. Or: another Patrick?
Or: If it weren't so annoying, it'd be funny. Or: I know
I lead an interesting life, but this is ridiculous.

Surfeited and tired, the picnickers started straggling out,
ceding their parking permits as they left. When the dust
cleared, there was a certain but not impossible amount of
cleanup to be done, which was okay ... but then, what's
this? A black hat and a bowl of bean salad ...

So I called the Fords, hoping they would come back the
next morning and help me deal with a bunch of leftovers,
but no such luck. We'll be there eventually, Burt said. I
waited a half hour and then went downstairs, clutching a
beer so as to be able to pass the time comfortably. After
a certain interval, I heard a car, and ... up came the
less than welcome apparition of Nancy, blasted, hungry,
and horny. She lunged at me and gave my nipple a twist,
with some rude comment, and went to the back door, which,
to her rage, was locked. Why didn't you open the door for
me? The door should be open. She opened the door and
invited me, as it were, to her apartment.

- [shouted] Get in here.
- [a shout, for me, which is about 23 decibels] No.
- [so all the neighbors can hear] Get in here.
- [so half the neighbors can hear] No.
- [louder] Why not?
- I don't want to.
- [loud, vulgar] What, you waiting for your lover?
- None of your business.
- [very loud] Why not, you f*** [one of the neighbors],
I know, I caught you [a false statement].
- [weary] Yeah, all the time [an ironic but false statement].
- [really, really loud] Get in here.
- No!
- [in what she thinks is a faggotty voice] Nuuuoooo! Get in here.
- If you want to have a drink with me, come on out, I'm not
going in your apartment.
- [comes out bearing Sam Adams - MY Sam Adams] Here, I brought
you beer. I'm starved. I've been drinking and smoking since
8:30 and haven't had any food.
 
Reminds me of the joke, what's the blonde's mating call? "I'm drunk!"
What's the ugly blonde's mating call? "I SAID I'M DRUNK!"

She pulled up a chair, lit up her hash pipe, and started yammering
away, with those carefully crafted self-revelations designed to
get something - money, sympathy, or sex, I'm not sure - out of me.
You can figure it out - childhood molestation, teen drugs, alcohol,
the lot. And an unwillingness to do anything to help herself.

Let it be said that I have never encouraged this item in any
way, and even if she'd been attractive, I'd be extremely leery.
I do feel sorry that she had a hard time in earlier life, and I
have given her a little slack because of it, but it's not my
problem, and if being polite to her (inviting her to the picnic,
for example) reaps this kind of reward, screw that. I'm not
going to be victim just because she was one (returning to the
standing up for oneself theme).

Burt finally showed up, and I thought I was going to get an excuse
to escape, or at least a little respite, but no; he picked up his
stuff, said goodbye, and fled into the dark, and I can't really
blame him. Before he did, though, he overheard her saying she was
hungry, and he said, shame be to him, "Michael has a lot of food,
upstairs."

Upstairs we went; I offered a sandwich and some kugel - gave her
a pretty generous sandwich, which she ate part of and found too
fatty, so she rummaged about and found the rest of the pastrami,
carving out all the rest of the meat from the flap, and leaving
me with only fat, which of course doesn't bother me at all, except
that she took without asking. She loved the kugel and ate about
half of it. Also a lot of those TGIF potato skin things and some
other stuff, which was also fine by me, except that she took without
asking.

Not being content to have run down the upstairs neighbor this
afternoon, she lit into my friends, calling them nerds and bitches,
saving special scorn because someone had failed to stuff half a
dozen of the tomatoes with olives, the bitch. I lost it and said
in my most menacing voice, listen to me: if you ever call any of
my friends a bitch again, I'll rip your head off. Guess what. She
sort of slowed down on the abuse. Didn't apologize, wanted to make
it all a big old joke, you know I'm just being friendly, that sort
of sheet, so I told her she was full of it and made it clear that
she wasn't getting anything from me, ever, said I was taking my
shower and going to bed (alone, always was the plan). What fun!

(Oh, one thing. That afternoon, after she left, there had been
this brief stunned silence followed by nervous or relieved
laughter followed by a few choice comments ... which I am
thinking that she heard at least part of. So a little discretion
- or at least lack of bad timing - can be a good thing.)

When I woke in the morning I noted to my surprise that she
had mostly cleaned up her mess and had not murdered the cats
or broken anything that I could see (she did apparently run
the dishwasher for 1 fork, 1 knife, and 1 something else I
forget, but had hand washed 2 plates).

And I survive!
--- Platinum Xpress/Win/WINServer v3.0pr5
 * Origin: Doc's Place BBS Fido Since 1991 docsplace.tzo.com (1:123/140)