When I returned to the office the moon had vaulted back to its normal state. I had detailed my plan of action: Fall in love with her, seem sympathetic and affected--but DO NOT PASS GO. The sun rose as I read the mail. ¡What craziness I had been saddled with! The beer that I had had coincided with a major illness and the pork that I had had coincided with potassium and already I had had 43 years.
Once upon a time a man and a woman were in their parent's cave making love and romance without being carnivorous. But this only occurred when I knew I was young and in a good mood--not after 43 YEARS.
After 43 years, sex and fantasy existed as side-show freaks -- equal to the physical without the emotional -- and that I knew I couldn't produce (the energy necessary) was for other men(sters) or for business.
I argued that the substitute for sex for American men was business. I did what men only creased. I went to the Orient. I knew that many men confused business with authentic feelings and the Dead Sea Scrolls with women. Spouses said ¡Sit down! ¡do this and thas! ¡if being this is the normal way to go in matrimony!
Men doted on the sentence just to smell the clause.
More aid and particularly that she was Matt Brady's siren. There was no question of a bus or a car or complications.
I was home in the afternoon. I established my tan absorbing the programs I had recorded at Pennys during lunch.
At that precise moment I heard the zoom of the back door and I proceeded to pull the tar off my clavicle with the certain design of male humor.
-The mistress Schuyler is here.- These words resonated in my two ears.
I eagerly absorbed my perspiration.
-I like beer that enters.- I replied, leaving the house as I had climbed into it.
I was a man in perspective/with compliments to my hairdo.
I had planned to keep an eye on my poor conduct and to eliminate Elaine from my memory, but nothing momentous had happened...But now she had returned to prominence.
I had almost died during the time Elaine and I courted (the special stuff that opened doors). I couldn't have been more demoralized if I had died. I had sent the urgency of a sea breeze, a dozen roses, some aftershave and still she found out that I was dismal. I quietly began to arm myself when advertently I entered the space.
I had decided that the past was an emotional facade that would not return. I couldn't move to a new occurrence. The first time I had been occurred I returned nevermore to the accounting firm.
Now I knew who she was. She was the BIG SKY with the five fingers...
Elaine, sing me a river...and I and my penis, if I can be such a testicular prude...
-¡Hello Brad!- She told me with her call-girl-intimate voice.
During one brief (our second) tete-a-tete (or after) I advanced to the center of the house and stretched out my manhood.
-¡Elaine!- I exclaimed.
Her seductive and five fingers took me in the palm of my manhood.
-¡Elaine!- I repeated, and was contented to add: -¿How's it hanging?-
She reared-up and made jokes about trivial observations until I repented. I looked into her car. My words made a hell of a run at her large exterior. Her eyes were somber, apart when they looked at me.
-I have seen much, Brad.- I was so sure that her words became unintelligible that I was reminded of the time, her hand on my... -But it's just that I can't get all romancy with you today.-
-¿Why not?- I whined monetarily.
Elaine segued, without looking at me, to the car:
-I have all sorts of previous compromises and when I don't you'll just discard me.-
I saw her to the car. Her perfume purified her removal from me to her Honda.
I experimented, in that quiet moment, with a cold escalator that pulsed like my passion. I enjoyed repeating myself:
-¡You will be the rain death of me!- I spat rotundly.
Elaine said nothing. I died in a delicate pass:
-If you have other compromises you can have me excommunicated.- I said as I pirouetted. -Don't come here only to deny me. There are many telephones in the city.-
Elaine gyro sober, if I miss my and know my as much as I think.
I experienced interior cholera and suffocating frustration. The grime pinioned her beautiful eyes.
-¡I am not mean to you, you bastard!- She told me with a very pagey voice.
I didn't press her attention, it was all gone in the affirmation.
-¿What do you have that I don't?- I asked her in my best "Take my body and give it a mind" tone.
My manhood spent, I realized this moron was resisting. Call it the physical flu running to abandon its keeper but her eyes were inundated with grime.
-Do the same, Brad: ¡MARCH!- So so so. -¿Don't you have any ballast?-
Her flawed voice shelved my sobriety, my "¡Come on Ashgar, add some cold water!" and paged my cholera. My manhood was the "Say Hey Kid" of homeboys, and my dirges lent meaning to my meaning.
-Very well, Elaine.- I said. -You can MARCH your self out if you're quiet.-
Elaine tip-toed into her car and moved her lips to say:
-Sit on it, Brad.-
I didn't contest her. I had to push on the door to close it, to trace it, to dig up my turbulent image and obfuscate it and to return to the mess that was my office.
After all, Elaine had reason but she didn't have to pour that lighter fluid on me.
I was the one who was looking for complications. This wasn't a woman I could con into staying the night to satisfy my appetite. An appetite that lazed like a tsar in heat. This girl had distinction and class and only I could treat her like horse meat in a succession of grassy plains and dusty stables.
I incinerated a cigarette and left my self to my libido.
I was the man with the plan. 43 YEARS was a damn sad time to spend lighting cigarettes and idling away my youth. When everything was red or dead or delayed I returned to hear the telephone. I knew what it meant to be pencil-sharp from a frustrated plan. I knew the vernacular.
-Paul Remey is all apart, chief.- Mickey said.
Action in the balance and I asked:
-¿How are you, Paul?-
-Good, Brad.- He said. -¿Can you be near me tonight?-
The confusion I felt appeared in my voice, but I said serenely:
-¿Yes, but make it clear, how near?-
-In the city.- He told me, ruining twelve of my best hats. -I had to remind a cousin of mine that you're the Chief and for that I'm here. Edith wants to go undercover with us. I know it's occurred to you, the idea that I haven't been sharing Edith with you and that as tender as I can be you'd better hurry because I think I must be on a plane by nine.-
-¡Great!- I contested, trying to stay in my voice. -¿What happens if I'm not there by 6:30? ¿I don't suppose there'll be time for dinner and later at the airport for dessert?-
-Very well, Brad.- He replied. -I'll save some of my self for you.-
Cold goo on the telephone and medics rigging the window so that it would burn any visitor. It was night in the house. I sent for my aunt to console me. I had no desire other than to cover the cost of my poor, dear Volvo and it had cost me plenty in spirit and in a vague sentiment of discontent that sent my dentures straight through me.
I thought the telephone looked new and called home. Marge knew that I was pushing out in the middle:
-Margie, I can't come to dinner tonight.- I said. -Paul is in the city and I'm going to you-know-what with him. ¿Do you want to join in?-
-I prefer to come alone, to eat with Jeanie and to be accosted by you RIGHT NOW.- Marge said. -But I'll pass on the bean-dip-boy.-
-That's a good one, Margie. Good bye.-
I returned to my mess and finalized the calculus lecture sober. All the ladies hung on me giving me the kind of space that they usually reserved for despicable Chris Tyndall. At that moment there were six circuses MARCHING through my office.
The afternoon knew it had gone. The air was freezing and cold and disagreeable. I breathed out and decided I had made a damn goon of my self.
Beneath and to the left of Madison Avenue and in file the streets MARCHED in twos with me to a restaurant.
The waiter teased me about how many cubes of ice I could hold under my hat.
-¿Are you Mr. Rowan?- He asked me in his lowered voice. -Mr. Remey is eating pear and pineapple. If you're game, please...-
I fantasized the mess: Paul and my hands--entrenched in corporation. I'd rig something up Edith's dress. That was a sentence to sue the rich and I told Edith so:
-What a very grating surprise, Edith. Marge said you were sick with sadness and not allowed visitors who would try to cheer you up.-
Edith returned the sunrise to me and contested:
-The flu has gone in spirit, Brad, and tell me, for my own satisfaction, when I dote on you.-
-And you also tell me.- I told her, doming her sentence. -¿But, Edith, you're a cad and a cad or am I mistaken?-
She told me the sins of my uncle to satisfy my "¿For example?", duplicating my doming of her sentence.
-And you also tell me.- She said sitting on the dome.
I averted what could have been ice cubes on the brain.
-¿Is all fault gone?- I asked.
The comedian was about to say "Ashes, ashes" but at that moment Edith said in an altered voice:
-¡Here she comes!-
In came Paul's image for the hundredth time. I automatically called out "Make my funk the P-Funk" and turned my head to look.
Advertising was mutually mismanaged every time. People just couldn't appreciate vulgarity in the everyday images that instantly sapped the air they breathed.
I appreciated the tits Edith brought.
One Moment...
-After you segued into despair some of the MARCHERS were moved to the plateau and they offered me their hands. Catullus meant it when he said: "When I want your opinion everyone will give it to me."- I said.
-It's a palace to see, Mr. Roman.- Edith typoed.
Her hands and fingers trembled as we entered the Coliseum.
It was a silly and ludicrous sentence.
Edith was inclined to make me and to tell me:
-I had an encounter with Elaine at an odd time and hour. She had accompanied me to lunch and afterward we were idled from shopping. Elaine was a marvelous windbag, Brad. Her family spoke of what a wonderful louse you were.-
Edith's condensation was not hard to destroy.
-I especially have bras in my dreams and enough money to try them all on after dinner.- Paul bromo'd.
I was so tolerant I couldn't discern if the buildings were being torn in two or if there was even a pun to disperse this.
The mirage that I had rigged for Elaine was a beauty. I had established my validity inside the eyes of her parents. Her brother called me Ida in the house and Nothing in the car. I played up a big appetite. I didn't mean them to think that I was so delicious and so serious besides.
