M is for Myg

I was in the barbershop late last night trying to fix those damn leaky faucets. Some meathead building inspector named Boston–of all things–has been snooping around busting my balls. Said if he were me he’d sue the manufacturer for selling crap like my designer sinks “new.” I was on my back, head under the counter trying to work around the U-bend when Pauly came in whistling.

“You’re chipper,” I said.
“Don’t even try it, you fuck,” he replied.
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m feeling good, asshole. Don’t even think about tossing a wet shadow on my party.”
I thought about throwing the wrench at him, but his head was framed by the window. If I missed it would cost me at least a pane. I went back to tightening the stems. Then I felt something hit my chest. I looked down and saw this picture.

“What’s this?”
“Okay, I’ll tell you,” he said.
“That is a picture of me sitting with two beautiful ladies. One of whom I have just come back from a very nice date with.”
I chuckled. “I thought something was going on there–Dr. Moody seemed pretty taken with you when I spoke with her earlier.”
“Of course she is,” he said. “But I’m not talking about Millenia. I had a date with the divine Ms. Slade.”
“Sable?!”
He nodded, a shiteating grin on his face. I sat up. My fingers tightened around the handle of the Stillson. “Bullshit. Where’d ya take her?”
He tossed another picture onto my lap:

“Tattletales?!”
“Yeah. It was her idea.”
“Her idea? Sable? Tattletales?”
“Use a period, kid. Maybe I mentioned about it being the only place I knew around here to get something to eat. They make a very good Scotch sandwich.”
“Do I dare ask?”
“You never heard that? Jesus, you’re dumb. Anyway, she liked it. She was tipping like crazy. Then she started making innuendos about threesomes and telling me her fantasy of getting it on in the back of a Cadillac.”
“That sounds more like a fantasy of yours, Pauly.”
“I know, doesn’t it? I was curious, too. So I bought a Cadillac to find out.” He tossed another photo at me.

It was a Cadillac alright. And Sable was right there with him in the passenger seat, dressed to kill. “How did you get the money…wait a second, is that car on top of the Wawa?”
“Yep, it sure is.”
“How the hell did it get there?” I grabbed the last picture out of his hands.
“It’s one of the new models–it flies. And if anything will get a girl into the backseat it’s a flying car.”
“I don’t see you in the backseat though, Pauly. What happened?”

Silence.
“You froze up?” He was trying not to give anything away, but I’ve played poker enough times with him to know the score. “You did. You couldn’t close. You had stunning Sable Slade alone in a flying Cadillac with you after she was dropping hints in a strip club and you couldn’t even make a move?” I guffawed.
He grabbed the pictures from my hands and pushed me out the door. I laughed as far as the curb. Where did Pauly get the cash to buy a Caddy?

This entry was posted on Sunday, May 6th, 2007 at 7:00 am and is filed under Burgess, Mainline, Pauly, Second Life.