Archive for the ‘find the Button’ Category
I awoke in the pre dawn yesterday. It was Friday the twentieth of July. As I jumped off on cold, if invigorating icy floor tiles, I realized if I didn’t have my “A” game pretty much at its peak today, the Lunhbunch would be footless and almost certainly luckless in ways that one or two of the couldn’t even imagine.The T-Part air fighters had shredded much of Route 4 from Interstate 275 to Motherfuckuh Highway, effectively shutting down automobile traffic in the finest food zone on Cincinnati’s west side. Hell or any of its sides.
Plain ole jealousy.
Bob’s military wife Commander Joyce tired of hearing about the best pizzas, the fried chicken, soup’s of all sorts, cornbread of all sorts, carrot cake, flan and you-name-it pies, had called em out after p;ulling her battle gear from that huge waterproof bag she had suspended under the surface of the inlet halfway across the lake.
The Joycists resurrected.
Nobody was going to out brag her gourmand friends. oafter what seemsd like a hundred calls from my cellphone, I was able to have Willie desiccate construction site inspector. At thats site outside my favorite South American joint – outside Sabor Peruano. I had information a gang of Americans posing as illegals planned to make a big fuss – complex with hand pained
signs, body and internet noise accusing me and others like me of huge pretense – pretending to love Latin American food to dilute its level of consumer delight in Cincinnati.
They were determined to drive us to the west side where there hasn’t been a self-respecting restaurant since Aunt Flora’s left for the Findlay Market and where running upon one good meal a year is not unlike rediscovering the hope diamond, and that’s is we all agree on it.
Which we don’t hardly ever. Even for real bank money.
I had been suspecting Joyce was up to something like this for weeks.gh
I called my friend Sarah who works there, who had sent me steaming bowlfuls of Peruvian food when I was in the hospital on the a-tip of the crust. Sarah rounded a half dozen of her friends and family up, commandeered their vehicles, including – can you believe it? – one with a chair lift and slipped us in through back entrance. All of us, that is, except Jude, the designated decoy was arrived normally late.
Joyce’s crowd was left outside in the parking lot sucking hind tit and creaming of better days, of more effective days when the Lunch Bunch would no long have either the best meal or the last
Don’t fool with the Lunch Bunch. Mess with us at the rest of have your ego busted.
Yesterday’s meal was, in MY OPINION, the best meal we’ve had: 2 soups, deep fried bacon and potatoes, onion salad, pork and rice, spaghetti, chicken steaks and rice, paella with its yellow rice (ordered eagerly by Bob but methinks NOT eatern eagerly by him), cookies that melt in your mouth, flan, all day long ….. all day long… till the Scrabbleboards (copyright til you die) come out.
I lost two.
But it didn’t spoil my day.
CB beat Bob. Not sure, but that could have been a day breaker for someone. Willie beat the piss outa me; don’t know how she fared against CB.
Then it was time to go, for willie to flow ahead of traffic.
For Bob to hit Dewey’s for a makeup pizza for Joyce.
Since the previous LB, CB had a colonoscopy after we made that emergency turnaround in Kentucky where some afoul was spilling out of her bowels.
All’s better. No cancer, it would appear.
Willie has been traveling like the headless runner of late. East Enosburg, Albany, Lake Champlain, Dayton, Santana concert, Colorado Springs, Fairfield OH (Lunch Bunch), and now to Findlay OH this weekend for more Scrabble.
My Hopkins family had the first reunion without me in a bunch of years…well over ten. Still almost can’t get my mind over not EVER being able to go to Paris (TN) my hometown again. Certainly a prisoner of my own doing, but a prisoner nonetheless. Several Scrabble (copyright til you die) tourneys have called without response in Michigan, Tennessee, Ohio (this weekend, too). Slowly the tope is being pulled tighter.
Not nearly desperate as it could be without my family and friends.
Both Ronald and Willie (and her trusty helper John) have put together electronic memory books for me. I try to watch one or both every day to feed the psychic hunger pains that threaten regularly.
Jude is looking for a job. Good luck, although the Lunch Bunch would definitely be the less without you, friend.
Happy Trails to you (channeled just for you from Roy and Dale)
Button, Button, Where’s the last one, that rapscallion, Wailani’s final Button that can finally rescue us from the mischievous gods of Australia.
The quartet of misfits and has-beens met quietly for lunch in Mount Orab, Ohio, to organize and develop plans for their quest for “the button.” Each had pledged fealty to the pursuit, which was, in truth, the quest for meaning in each of their own lives each of which had fallen to the caprice of the gods in Melbourne, Australia, one at a time over the past several decades. While each had improvised and advanced far on a far different plane in the interim, all longed for the glory and the gladness that would have been theirs had the gods not interfered. That the Aussies had shake with laughter as they worked their ingenious evil machinations on our quartet, compounded their resolve for revenge.
Find the button.
Wailani (heavenly water)willie
Pilialoha – “Beloved companion” (1f,1m)cb
kekona (leeward wind) waiter at Mi Camino Real