2 buck larry*
i went to a party the other night, t’was the eve of the summer solstice and dia de los padres, two days post of juneteenth; an evening of epic proportions and equal distortions. i punched the clock that saturday night and departing my haunt use-you-all around p.m. of 10 i ventured west two blocks on a spiritual journey for spirits at the nearby write-aid. el aliens such as i often tend to find remedies for writers block and other misfortunes in a bottle. this outlet seemed my most obvious and convenient choice for tonights panacea.
standing in front of the refrigerator doors pondering a plethora of possibilities I droppedeves on the conversation of two eastern you-rope-ians whose sentences were un-understandable save for the occasional utterance of “butt-vaser.” i quickly found my quest in the form of sixers of corona and pacifico and turned to make my march toward the swipe station. halfway there i noticed in the corner of my eye a young asian woman face feeding herself a cup of ice cream and pondering her own plethora of possibilities in the war paint section — a quick inventory of my senses asked myself why she on a night saturday, 10ish of eve found herself in a store of drugs surveying the landscape of war paint seemingly calculating her next move or, dare i say, passing time before her next appointment? didn’t last long and i found the starry eyed swipe station attendant with a smile bright enough to light the way into the darkness of the night ahead.
i needed no such light as i found myself light hearted as i shared her joy in my dozen denizens of brewed and bottled hops, wheat and distilled stillness — the requisite price of entry to the port i would soon park my phanny. i was pushing myself, just a wee mind you, as the ensuing festival was to be populated by only one person i knew (and forty or more i didn’t). that one person’s moniker i have anointed with the title of “occasional friend.” she’s a pretty girl with a pretty smile that always makes me happy. hence my minimal need for pushing.
i arrived and walked in like i owned the place, or at least paid a significant rent. it’s important to project confidence in these circumstances. the frivolities were already two hours underway and the population perfectly placed in their cliques and corners of conversation. i deposited my price of admission in the obligatory cooler and found a more desirable selection than those i contributed then nonchalantly helped myself to the same. a quick search for a church key left me unresolved and i casually interrupted three kiwis in talk small mode asking if an opener was lingering nearby. the more resourceful of the bunch opened my bottle with another in a feat i have yet to witness. i must learn this slight of hand, this party trick will surely make me popular.
a quick survey of the land and a brief circling prowl through the palace finished with me empty handed in my search for the only and one person i knew. i asked a woman politely collecting trash if she new where i could find my occasional friend and her curt response of “no” took a little wind from my sails, yet i remained undaunted in my quest for occasional friend. i soon found two faces i recognized, two friendly types i had met once or twice before at my aforementioned clock punching saturday night spot and promptly parked my back side in their circle and engaged. it was fun and a fine find. i reveled in the moment for a moment.
the fete moved forward and i soon found myself in another locale spewing talk small, yet formidable. we found our way to father’s day hallmark holiday queries of plans for the ‘morrow. my turn ensued and my new found talk small friends queried me as i divulged my empty bucket of two legged family members and conversely the fullness of my four legged versions. i presented my position positively, undaunted and fully present — but somehow after revealing my childless parent-less self, larry felt pity (?) and gifted me with my very own dia de los padres prize in the form of a two dollar bill and the story of how he acquired some $800 dollars of these delectable oddities of federal reserve notes.
my own notes sang loudly in my humbled head and heart just about the time occasional friend found me and welcomed warmly me. her eyes, usually full and bright, tonight appeared as two pee holes in the snow. my quick recognition of her emergence from and impending return behind a closed door told the story. the math in this situation is of grade school level and recognizable in my own actions at similar events where i was host. equally recognizable was the warmth in her touch and the sincerity flowing from between her lips and what i expect to be her heartfelt promise that we would in her words ”hang out soon.”
in short order i said my goodbyes and gratitudes for the evening and departed realizing this was about as good as it would get for this attendee. with my net worth increased by two dollars and an equal if not greater deposit in my emotional bank account i found my way home. such was my eve of the eve of this year’s summer solstice and dia de los padres.
(the only thing harder than writing these missives is sorting through the spell check)
spell check complete i review and feel i have left you, dear reader, with an incomplete impression. i will endeavor to do better in my endeavors of subsequent story telling. stay tuned for more of such missives.
*2 buck larry is not related to 2 buck chuck lest you think i’mpilfering from the pantry at trader jose’s.
