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All the Bad Sex I’ve Had, a very, very, very long book (pt 1) |
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Written by Suzy Soro
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Friday, 10 October 2008 |
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Page 2 of 2 The incident with my dog Lollipop was just one of two that happened with the little Yorkie. He had also appeared to me as a giant blob somewhere over a parking lot in a strip mall outside Philadelphia. I was performing at a comedy club that I had taken him to just six months earlier, when he was really sick. I went back to that club about two weeks after he died and he appeared to me after the second show Friday, which made sense because my act died, and if you're going to talk to the dead, doing it after a second show on Friday would be the time, both of you having death very much in common at that point. I hadn't even told Doré about that incident. The concept of a presence hovering over you in a parking lot is a great deal to expect people to buy into and Doré was not one of those people, unless the hovering presence was single and rich and looking to take her to the Rolls Royce dealership in Beverly Hills.
"Well Doré, I'm just saying that maybe Princess will come back to you too." I was lying at that point. I had just recently figured out that there were definite reasons dead people dropped by and I knew that these incidents only happened to people who were open to the concept.
"Z, your story about a dead dog flying around the Upper East Side of Manhattan is ridiculous. Are you sure you weren't born and raised in California? Princess is dead and she's not coming back."
I realized now might be the time for that pretend call. Fuck the 2.5 minutes. I could get killed transitioning from the 101 north to the 405 south and the last story I heard was absolutely not going to be about a dead cat named Princess. Especially when the dead cat's Mommy thought I was nuts. I had to find someone else to talk to before my airbag deployed. As I held the cell up to the dashboard I punched the button that changed the minutes on the clock and a small tone escaped into the cell.
"What was that, have you got another call?" Doré asked.
"Yeah, I'd better take it."
"That was a weird tone, are you sure it's the call waiting?"
"Yeah, it's one of the new downloadable virtual tones from Verizon."
"Why didn't you download a song or a celebrity voice?"
"That's just gay."
I wish there was a reality show on lying. One hour somewhere on a Caribbean Island, and each week, you have to figure out who's the biggest liar and the one who is the biggest liar gets to stay on the island for another week. It's To Tell the Truth in a Brazilian cut with a bottle of SPF 30. I would so win that show.
"Oh. Well, can't you just see who it is and call them back?"
"Okay, hold on." I covered the mouthpiece with my hand and counted to nine. Try doing that with one hand on the steering wheel going sixty or seventy miles per hour. Eighty, tops.
"I've got to take this, Doré, it's my mother."
"Your mother in France mother?"
"Yeah".
"Oh." I could hear her breathing.
"Doré? I've got to go."
"Okay, love you."
"Love you back." I hung up without waiting for her to say goodbye. All right already with the dead cat.
(the next section will run Friday, October 17)
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Suzy Soro
