Saturday, July 20, 2013

The Canadian "Loonies" II

(Rafael and "My name's Charlene, but everyone calls me Charlie" have left the restaurant and come to our table on the hotel patio.)

And thus ensued a great to-do about where to sit.  The hotel cat was sleeping contentedly in one chair.  Richie, Sue and I were in the other three.

On seeing the cat, Charlie clutched her flattish bosom in horror and said, "Oh, but I'm allergic to cats!" as if we had deliberately put a cat there to freak her out.

Seeing Sue light up, Charlie flapped a defensive hand at the smoke.  "Oh, Sue!  You know I'm allergic" she said in tragic tones.

Then she launched into attack mode; the target being her husband.  Though the sisters live on opposite sides of Canada, they'd joined forces to invade Cabo to plan revenge.  The cause?  Charlie's husband was being unfaithful to her.  She knew who he was now laying pipe for and she swore she would divorce him.  The debate that drew them to Cabo centered on how devastating the damages could be.

"He doesn't know that I know," she said darkly, a certain glitter in her eyes.  "But I do."  Ominously. 

By now, Sue had drained her wine as well as her Irish and we had drunk ours.  "I'll go on a beer run!" Sue announced and picked up her purse. 

"I'll go with you," Richie said, "I know where the liquor store is."

Charlie said to Sue, "Get me one of those canned daiquiris I like?"  Turning to us, "I don't like beer." and wrinkled her nose.  Richie and Sue trundled out, arguing about who would pay for the beer.

Charlie, who had elected to stand rather than sit in our miasma of foul air, became more animated.  She had a love affair going with her hair.  Said hair was below-shoulder length pre-Raphael curls.  The kind of hair that looks like a wig made out of pipe cleaners.  She was wearing a long dress which whirled out prettily as she illustrated her conversation with little shimmies of delight or horror.  I cut my eyes at Rafael; in an instant we'd both looked away.  It was that or both of us would have burst out laughing. 

Having apparently forgotten the storm clouds that went over the patio when she spoke of her husband, she launched into a series of anecdotes about her treatment of her sister.  "We were kids - I had to be mean to my little sister - it was my job!"  Peals of girlish laughter.  I rapidly added "sadist" to the "narcissist" I'd already jotted down mentally. 

Of course, the four of us went through the six pack like Grant took Richmond and Sue immediately volunteered to go for more. 

"We're all having such fun!"  she said, "But first I have to go to the john - you know where it is?"

I laughed and pointed down the patio to our room door.  "Use ours," I said.  "I have to go, too." 

The minute we were in the room, she turned anxiously to me and said, "You see!  What did I say?  She never shuts up!" with some vigor. 

"I'm no doctor," I said, but I believe she does have some, er, issues.  Narcissism being the major one ...which is difficult to cure..." (explaining myself) "You notice that not only does she talk incessantly, but it's all related to her?  What she thought, felt, said, reacted..."  (Sue is nodding vigourously)  "Rather than sitting with us; she's standing -- the better to be the queen with the peasants..."

Sue was pumping her arms up and down, grinning adly and say, "Yeah!  Yeah!  I'm NOT the crazy one!"

And we returned to our seats on the patio.  Sue and Richie left to get more beer which frankly probably wasn't needed.

To Be Continued

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