short story 4.25.13
Who knows where inspiration lurks?
Having my bi-weekly therapeutic massage to keep the ‘chi’ flowing – getting ALL those toxins expelled…
Yeah and the thought hits me as Tana is jabbing her elbow between my spine and rib cage – ah brain says:
“Why don’t yo write about that psycho guy you met on E-Harmony or was it Match.com; anyway yeah the Phd?”
I say Ok. Here it is: of course modified to be most like that guy and turned into a short story.
The phone rang as I finished my last “touch” email.
“Yes,” I coyly answered, “its me, Kathleen.”
“Hi,” Phil answered, “Dr. Dombray.” He spoke firmly, and a little distant.
“I know this may sound forward,” He mused, “but would you like to go with me on a weekend trip to North Carolina to accompany me to my family reunion for our first date?”
“Sure,” I had been reading his emails for a week and was familiar with his “edited” profile. I felt confident that that I could “read” his sentiments. He was okay.
We met an exquisite Saturday morning in May ready to drive a three and a half hour romantic drive, followed up by a nice weekend. He placed my luggage, or as I normally called it my Crew Bag. What a southern gentleman.
We were off.
“So what do you do when you are not evaluating?” I started the conversation.
He interrupted, “Analyze.”
“OK, ANALYZE.” I said finitely.
Well, I analyze. He looked briefly at me and back to his driving. Children who have been flagged to be counseled. I have my Phd.
“Jamming,” I adjusted my sunglasses. I had to wear them no matter what in any sunlight. I had been diagnosed with ‘Photosensitive Eyes’ early on. Severe headaches immediately once out in the sun, Winter or Fall. I flicked them saying, “But what do you do after your workday?”
I just wanted to try to delve into his past time life. Just a little probe, I swear, just a little probe.
“Well,” he smirked, “that’s a good question.”
I smirked too, oh boy.
He continued, “I set up a cage near my office, in the supply room and put my skins in there. I bang as hard and and as loud as possible, no one hears.”
“But the janitor.” I conjectured.
“OK, the janitor, he don’t care,” Dr. Dombray said dismissively. “And, anyway, its my outlet.”
I could just picture him with an unknotted tie – beating his brains out like Buddy Rich or something.
“And then I can get out all the tension.” He postured. “Out of my system, systematically.”
“H.m.” I rubbed my chin like I thought Freud, or well maybe Miss Freud would.
He went on. “You should come over there sometime with me and bang.”
“Well,” I didn’t want to say yes or no yet, I really wanted to gain nsight.
“Look,” he pointed with his hand practically in my face, “there’s a great place I’ve always wanted to stop, ‘Ole Mill Mansion’, for lunch.”
“Go got it.” I said moving his hand back to 10 and two. “So, where was your drum set before?”
“Well,” he deftly turned the rented car towards the exit to the restaurant. I had the set at my apartment, but the neighbors complained, so my landlord said.”
I didn’t want to seem like a dating detective looking, but not really wanting to find, “Deadly Dude.” But dating online can be perilous these days.
TO BE CONT’D….