Episode 8

MY V.I.
(a soap opera)



Cindy watched in stunned silence as Sky vanished down the street. She wondered what this world was coming to as she turned and walked back inside.

Entering the V.I., she stopped in the doorway and scanned the lounge. Slowly, her eyes passed over the rowdy, young brunch crowd; she smelled the popcorn burning in the popcorn machine.

"CHARMAINE! the popcorn's burning," she yelled.

Her eyes continued past the server's register, the coffee station, through the windows of the kitchen doors - the cooks scrambling to fill the breakfast orders - and around to the bar where sat some of her favorite and not so favorite people.

This was her world, four - sometimes five days a week and had been for years. She wondered how it was possible to love something you hated so much. Sadly, her sentimental moment of reflection was halted by the frantic, apologizing voice of Charmaine.

"Cindy. I didn't start the popcorn - it was Spencer. If I'd been the one to start it I would have paid attention to it . . . it's not . ."

"Stop," Cindy replied, "we all burn the popcorn - don't worry about it."

As the two of them walked past the bar a long time regular lecher swung around on his stool and inquired, "So Cindy, who's this sweet little thing you got there - she's new isn't she?"

Stopping, Cindy proceeded with introductions.

"Charmaine, I'd like you to meet 'Bilge.' Bilge - Charmaine"

Bilge, as he liked to be called, was a lascivious retired fisherman who claimed to have out lived three wives. He could be found most afternoons and weekends plopped atop a V.I. barstool and always wearing the same things: a Reyn Spooner shirt (size XXXL), khaki shorts and a weathered pair of Birkenstocks that cradled the gnarliest pair of old dry, cracked feet anyone would never want to see.

"Hey there - Charmaine was it?'

Charmaine took the chubby red hand he'd extended and answered, "Yes, but I prefer to be called CharTruce."

"Chartreuse? You mean like the color?"

"No. See, my name is Charmaine Truce and some of my crazy friends started calling me CharTruce - get it? Like Char from Charmaine and . ."

"Yeah, yeah I get it. CharTruce. I got it."

"Your name's unusual," Charmaine returned, "did you say, Bilge?"

"Yep, Bilge but some people call me 'Pump.' Doesn't matter to me - either one."

"I like 'Pump!'" Charmaine squealed.

"Well then, by golly, call me Pump!"

Cindy decided to leave these two alone and get back behind the bar to start on the back log of drink orders that had been placed. As she got to the well Simza announced that she was ready to do her reading.

"Oh my gosh, Simza - I forgot all about that. Listen, what do you need from me?"

The old gypsy took the last swig of her tequila and told her, "Take this cotton ball and rub your wrists, behind your ears and down your cleavage with it."

Cindy looked surprised as she took the cotton ball from her and asked, "Down my cleavage?"

"Do as I say!" Simza barked back, impatiently.

Cindy laughed, turned and walked through the opening in the wall into the empty dining room so as to insure privacy.

"Don't forget your wrists and behind your ears!" Simza yelled.

"I got it, I got it!" Cindy responded as she came back into the bar and handed Simza the cotton ball. "Is that all you need?"

"No. I need a cup of hot water, salt and a quiet place to work," Simza demanded.

"Oh crap," Cindy whispered. "Hang on."

Cindy retrieved the water and the salt and placed them in front of Simza. "You can go into the dining room if you want. No one will bother you there."

Simza gathered the items and slunk off into the dining room.

Cindy seized this momentary lull in the insanity to catch up on making drinks for the servers. As she got busy she couldn't help but over hear the nutty conversation between Charmaine and Bilge.

"So you say you didn't vote for Obama? Cause I'd take you for one of them liberal types that'd voted for Obama," Bilge declared to Charmaine.

"What I said was, I'm a liberal but I didn't vote for Obama," she replied.

"Now . . wait a minute. You said you voted, right?"

"Yes. I voted."

"And you're a liberal, right?"

"Right."

"But you didn't vote for Obama?"

"No. I wrote in the canidate that I always vote for - have for, gosh, ten years."

"You wrote in? Who? Who'd you write in?"

"The person I think's most qualified - Bella Abzug."

"Bella ABZUG?! That pushy broad?"

"She's not pushy - I think she's awesome!"

"I think she's dead!" Bilge replied as he looked across the bar at Bucky who was minding his own business. "Hey, Bucky!"

Bucky turned and looked his way.

"Bucky, didn't that old cow, Bella Abzug die?"

Bucky looked confused, "Bella Abzug? Yeah, she died . . . . years ago."

Bilge began to laugh as he looked back at Charmaine, "See there. You voted for a dead woman! Unbelievable!"

His uncontrolled laughter hurt her feelings.

"You hear that, Bucky? Bella Abzug! UNBELIEVABLE! That just proves my point from yesterday - idiots, they're all idiots! First we let 'em drive then we gave 'em the vote. What're we CRAZY?!"

Humiliated, Charmaine ran into the kitchen.


TUNE IN NEXT TIME FOR ANOTHER EXCITING EPISODE OF MY V.I.!