Hoyt Axton sang “Thank God and Greyhound she’s gone.” So how the hell did she get on this bus? And the Care Bears? Really?

Posted: July 24, 2013 in Humor
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Previously: “Fog! It’s so good to see you!” I try to act like Stevie Wonder but she doesn’t buy it.

And now: I wish I could have said the same, but long-unforgotten memories of our childhood remained like a chalk-marked sidewalk hopscotch board on my still fragile psyche. Fragile you say? Well, not really, but even I need sympathy occasionally. And now with Ped, er Ginger, in front of me, I could use all the help possible. I’ll never forgive him, her!, for dressing me and the dog up in what was to be her signature mode of style – Liza Minnelli by way of Elton John, courtesy of Flavor Flav. Is it any wonder I’ve no desire to see her again?

521787035_584c188a04          One of three strong influences.

“Fog, what’s happening? How are Mom and Dad? How is Ahmed?” It wasn’t ’til many years later that I discovered she and Ahmed had had a thing going on. Still, my love for Ahmed withstood that little bit of crappy news and we remained friends. After all, as I’ve said before, he did have the best falafel I’ve ever had. Food is thicker than blood.

I tried to ignore her, but she wouldn’t give up – another trademark of hers. I had no way off the bus at this point and after she dropped her besequinned butt into the seat next to me, I was effectively trapped. I had to speak with her. “Everyone’s alive.” I muttered.

She knew of my feelings towards her and did not seem upset over my hostile brevity. “Good, good. And it is so good to see you. I’ve been carrying around a gift for you hoping to run into you some time. And guess what?, I did!”, she squealed. Like a little child, overly proud of herself, she thrust a package at me, “Here! For you!”

In my futile attempt at downsizing my life, she gives me something else to carry with me. Wonderful. Wrapped in plain, brown paper, I’m immediately suspicious. Only Canadian Viagra, mail-order Depends, and life-size inflatable “people” come that way.

“Open it, open it! You’ll love it!”

“No, no, that’s OK, I’ll do it off the bus when I can fully appreciate it,” and throw it in the nearest garbage can. I want no part of it. But she is insistent and I’m forced to reveal it’s tawdry contents. It has some weight to it and comes in one of those cheap cardboard boxes that aren’t good for anything. I slowly open it and pull out the gift but it’s further wrapped in cheap brown tissue paper. How festive! It’s a friggin’ snow globe. Worse yet, it’s a friggin’ snow globe of the Care Bears in Gdansk, Poland! What!? I’m speechless. Who the hell thought of this crap? And who the hell is going to buy these things? Scratch that last thought, I know who…Ginger!

3175404651_8e428a0142          The first of many. Help us all. Please!

“Ginger, I don’t know what to say,” and that is the damn truth.

“Isn’t it so sweet? It’s the first of a limited edition set. The Care Bears will be visiting the whole world and there will be a commemorative globe celebrating each country they visit. I knew you’d love it.”

Why she thought that I had no clue, but before I could say anything else, she kept going on. “Look at the bottom, look at the bottom, it’s autographed by Lech Walesa!”

I knew for a fact, or at least suspected, Mr. Walesa had nothing to do with this, but didn’t want to open that can of worms. So I just nodded.

But Ginger wasn’t over yet. “In every country the Bears go to, all the globes will be signed by a famous person from that country. Isn’t that great? I hear that when they go to Italy, Berlusconi will be signing them”

Well at least that could happen, He did have a lot of time of time on his hands or would very shortly. Will the Bears be taking part in one of his Bunga-Bunga parties in a globe? I kept that to myself. I had to get off this bus soon or someone would soon find someone with a snow globe buried in their head.

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