Wednesday, February 7, 2007

The Portuguese Boy

The first thing I noticed after her mother Rita peeled away was that Fagette was coatless so I rushed her inside where it was warm and toasty, well, cold and musty. I’d been airing the place out you see because I’d been experimenting with smoking the last few months as I watched my bar slip away and finally go under and so when I got back from my trip to the nameless country I realized my place smelled like Ava Gardner’s trailer after a visit from Sinatra.
She wrinkled her nose so I blamed the smell on my friend Marco who had being watering my plants when I was away. She said “It’s not that. It’s merde.” I said “Excuse me. Marco may smoke and that’s bad enough but he sure doesn’t take dumps on the floor.” She said, “Are you sure?” and she pointed towards the living room. Sure enough, there was a big steaming pile of poo right on top of my award winning white shag rug. Darn cat! I looked up and saw the little rug murderer lurking on top of the book shelves staring at Fagette with malice. She asked me if I had a cat. I said “No. That was Marco. I’m very sorry.” Look. It’s easier this way. Uday has to meet her on his own terms. I’m just going to keep her away from the walls for the first few days.
When I went to clean up the mess she insisted on doing it. I said “I couldn’t”. She said “I want to.” I said “Make sure you brush up, never down.” Rita was doing something right. As Fagette worked the dark wet excrement out of the long white fibers I asked her if I could run a bath for her. It sounded like something that a young lady would enjoy in a Jane Austen novel after being chilled to the bon while mucking out a stable. Turns out she was not cold at all. Her body temperature is enormous. She pours out heat like a Franklin stove. I wondered if that was an evolutionary adaptation to her mother never buying her winter gear or just part of her genetic makeup. I’m certainly not like that. I’m more of a conduit. I only heat up when I’m touched.
As she worked, we chatted easily. I found out she was quite disappointed with the fact that I no longer owned a bar. She told me she wanted to go into the hospitality business which upset me so I said ,”Please don’t be a hooker,” and she said, “ No, a hotelier. I want to own a bar like you and I want to call it Fagette’s.” That got to me and I thought about letting her stop working but then I thought that there was still a little more to get out so instead I suggested she try some baking soda and vinegar and her eyes lit up. The vinegar fumes really got her talking up and soon she was confiding that her father is either this guy from the Rock Machine who put a pin from his Remembrance Day Poppy through the eye of a guy who used it to wink at my sister or he’s thirty other guys.
Eventually we gave up on the rug though. There was nothing for it but to throw the damn thing out. Oddly enough I felt glad. As I rolled the monstrous thing up and handed it to Fagette to take out to the garbage, I felt a lightness I hadn’t felt in years . That rug had been holding me back. That’ was the problem.
Later we ordered Swiss Chalet and watched television. She really loved ‘Intervention’. It was the one with the bulimic girl who vomits into plastic bags hidden everywhere in her apartment. We both thought the woman was ridiculous and that the whole plastic bag thing was a put on. Then later when she was in the bathroom she made pretend vomiting noises. It was hilarious.
But the thing she liked the best was the local news. There was a report on tension between the Italian and Portuguese communities over a communal chess table in Portutalia Park and she got very interested in the story especially with this boy who was heavily featured. He was a handsome lad about her age with perfect hair who was a spokesperson for the old Portuguese men fighting for control of the table. Most of them didn’t speak English so he was their mouthpiece. He was quite impressive and Fagette was completely enamoured. There’s a council meeting about it tomorrow and she wants to go. I think it might be fun. Anybody who knows me knows that I’ve always wanted to get more involved in municipal politics. Oh my God. What am I saying? What have I got myself into?


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16 comments:

Shaina said...

Turns out she was not cold at all. Her body temperature is enormous. She pours out heat like a Franklin stove. I wondered if that was an evolutionary adaptation to her mother never buying her winter gear or just part of her genetic makeup. I’m certainly not like that. I’m more of a conduit. I only heat up when I’m touched.

LOL!

Allison said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Allison said...

I love how frequently you update. Buddy, you do spoil us.

"Faggette's" is a fantastic name for a bar. If there were a bar called that where I live, I would go all the time (and I don't even normally go to bars). It sounds like a place for faghags and fags to meet each other. :)

Tavie said...

I love Buddy as a father again after so many years. I wonder what Castor the Beaver would think of his cousin.

Lana said...

And my favorite B.C. blog moment for Wednesday, February 7th is...

"she was confiding that her father is either this guy from the Rock Machine who put a pin from his Remembrance Day Poppy through the eye of a guy who used it to wink at my sister or he’s thirty other guys"


I use to sell those poppy pins door to door with my grandmother when I was a kid.

Alister said...

Buddy,
You make smoking look so glamorous. It’s too bad it’s not good for you.

-Honeychurch

BiPolar said...

Buddy wrote: "Sure enough, there was a big steaming pile of poo right on top of my award winning white shag rug. Darn cat!"

That's one hot poo!

How lovely Fagette has bonded with you so quickly. "she made pretend vomiting noises. It was hilarious."

I think a council meeting is in order! Take your gavel with you.

Why not try a little ice skating while you're there?

The Council Chambers has skate rentals, hot chocolate, and a rink. It's only -99 degrees outside without the wind chill. Perfectly balmy.

Remember to get off the ice when you see the zamboni coming even if you feel you can skate around it.

My cheeks are hurting again :)

Anonymous said...

That lucky Ava Gardner....In some bio of hers she mentioned that Frank Sinatra was 10% man and 90% cock!!!!! Gosh!!!! The amazing visuals I am getting!!!!!!!How could the woman walk I wonder!!! But then, won't some of us risk not walking for a while in order to entertain 90% of some happy organ?????? Lalalalalala!!!!!! Dreaming!!!!!!Lalalalala!!!!

Anonymous said...

Ahhhhhh! For those of you who do not think it's possible to be 90% "happy organ", I remember fondly my one episode with a "Tyler from Nebraska" and his penile elephantitis which literally sent me to the hospital.....But I digress....Tyler......I always wondered whatever happened to his 90%.........lalalalala!!!!!!

The other Shaina. I should just go back to using PsycoticPenguin. said...

See! You make a lovely father. To break the mirage of Buddy, I can't help but think of Mark's quote from the commentary of Same Guys New Dresses. "You couldn't even own a plant."

How wrong he must be. I mean, look, Buddy's doing great!

Tavie said...

Ah, but we mustn't confuse Buddy with Scott. Buddy has experience in raising a child. Scott has experience killing cockroaches with hairspray while sitting on the toilet.

Which is why we love Scott. We also love Buddy. But they are not precisely the same. ;)

Alister said...

How can anyone confuse Scott with Buddy?
They look nothing like each other.

Anonymous said...

Gosh! Anna Nicole Smith dead!!! How utterly bizarre and odd and in a way sad!!!! Yes, who cares about some ditzy blonde playmate when so much crap happens in the world yet sad since she always seemed so alive and fun and with that "don't give a fuck" attitude....Which I always adore in anyone....anyways...

Chuck Rumpf said...

truly funny dude... we love ya... but not that way!!

Alister said...

It's very sad to hear about Anna. I'm glad that her baby is so young and won't remember any of this.
The american media is having a field day with this. I'm sure that the Bush administration loves the distraction.

LLJessR said...

"Then later when she was in the bathroom she made pretend vomiting noises. It was hilarious."

AH-MA-ZING!!!!!!!!

I saw that intervention... She should have sold those baggies on ebay to all of the kids in the world that need to fake food poisoning.....