Cap Mandrake
Battlefields! Beta Tester
Posts: 23184
Joined: 11/15/2002
From: Southern California
Status: offline
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We are still waiting for Admiral "Killer King" Tabpub to get back from France (where, it is hoped, by me, that he is not taking a course in the Art of Surrender). The Japs are all lathered up, suffering a severe case of invasion interruptis. Sure I could have gone on alone, taking control of SouthPac, but by waiting, if everything goes into the cespool, I can blame it on Tabpub.
Meanwhile, I may have discovered the neighborhood blockwart. You may recall my effort to "out" my neighbor and my search for garden gnomes failed to prove my suspicions. An encounter I had this week with a slightly more distant neighbor has led to believe that my efforts were displaced. What if there is no blockwart? What if I am really looking for an ally to a blockwart? Call him L’informatore.
Tuesday, I was walking my two labradors on the horse trail. In the interests of efficiency and so that I might enjoy my Tanqueray and Tonic and exercise at the same time (in the evening when I walk the dogs), I have them lashed to my waist with 3/8 in airplane cable. Though freeing my hands to carry enchanting adult beverages, this apparently has the unintended effect of making the dogs seem like bloodthirsty beasts. A young woman was approaching us on a narrow portion of the trail. I could tell she was afraid of the dogs even though the worst thing that might have happened to her was a muddy paw print on her sweats as one of the dogs stood on its hind legs to great her. I chose to take a slight detour onto a neighboring street to let her pass. I glanced at the sign which read "Via ...." but thought nothing of it. If it has said ".......strasse" I might have been concerned, but we are conditioned here to Spanish names. Still, it does occur to me now that "Via" is also Italian. Hmmmmm?
I took a few steps up the street and a late-model SUV with heavily smoked windows began to slow as it approached. The windows seemed much thicker than they need have been. Odd. The passenger side window began to disappear into the door frame and the vehicle stopped. With a voice that had seen 5 lifetimes of cigarettes the driver called out "Aaaay". Just like that. I'm not kidding. No "H" sound. I approached. He didn't sound like he was from around here. Perhaps he was lost?
He looked like a character from the Sopranos. You know, thickly muscled but well insulated after many an indulgant repast. He wore a sports jacket from the 1970's that seemed to bulge assymterically on the left. I imagined he had a nickname like "jimmy the fish" or "tommy nine toes". When he spoke again, he did nothing to dispel the backstory I was forming.
"Aaay. I don't want those dogs cra****g on my lawn. I just picked up two big t***s yesterday and that ain't happened before." He held up his fingers of the left and right hand about 12 inches apart like a fisherman telling a tall tale. I'm not kidding, either. He really said "t****s". A teenage girl in the passenger seat rolled her eyes in embarrassment. Perhaps she was a grandaughter or the daughter of a trophy wife. He was at least 40 years older than she. Anyway, back to the t***s. I could see his thinking. Two t***s, two dogs, QED.
Sure, he was annoying, but caution was called for. He had a formidible organization behind him, the "Family", La Cosa Nostra, also known as the Homeowner's Association. i I was innocent of his charge, of course, but I had no "doggie bag" with me. He could make trouble. Big trouble.
I answered immediately, "Ah, I can see you are a man af great erudition and breeding, a natural consort to Kings and Queens." His scowl deepened after the insult penetrated his thickened skull. He began to reach under his jacket......ah, who am I kidding? That's not what really happened. I might have said, "Hey how is the cement business?" or even "Aaay paisano". Instead I merely explained I had not been on the street before and expressed my sympathy about the inciddent with the t***s.
He grunted back in recognition and pulled away. For the rest of the walk, I held the dogs tightly and scanned the bushes ahead and to my sides for a telltale reflection off a telephoto lens. I don't think I was followed, but I have checked every day since for a letter from the HA entitled "pet excrement violation" or some such thing. So far, nothing, but I am sure it went into my dossier.
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RE: Method Acting - 
Yikes...where was the copy editor? 
... i need to warm up the time/alternate reality machine after work... 
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