Episode 13

MY V.I. (I apologize for the text being all jammed together -

(a soap opera) It won't let me fix it & I'm too lazy to retype it!)

Cindy left the bar and walked back into the office to answer the telephone.

"Good afternoon, Village Inn; this is Cindy speaking. Oh, Ryan, it's you . . . hello honey bunny."

The normally light-hearted Ryan was speaking with a great deal more earnest as he asked her about Ken Edwards.

"Hey, Ken still works there - right?"

She was surprised by his question.

"Yes, of course. He works Wednesdays, Thursdays and Saturday . . . they took him off Mondays because it's just gotten so slow. Why?"

"Well . . this is really weird. I was driving down 17th St. and I stopped at a light and I hear this voice calling my name and I look over and it's this giant cellphone waving and yelling, 'Ryan . . Ryan . . hey, Ryan!'"

"Yeah - that's weird but what's that got to do with Ken?"

"Well, I'm getting to that part. At first I thought maybe I'd forgotten to pay my phone bill and -WOW - they've sent this living cellphone to collect the dough . . . you know?"

"That would be weird."

"I know, right? But then I realized . . . it was Ken."

"Ken?"

"Yes. It was Ken dressed in this huge cellphone costume - standing and waving at the cars driving by . . . you know what I mean? You've seen those guys, right? Some guy dressed like the Statue of Liberty or a chicken . . you know . . . to advertise some business."

"Yeah, I know what you're talking about but . . . Ken was doing that? You're sure it was Ken?"

"Oh - trust me - it was Ken. I know because I pulled over and talked to him."

"You did? What did he say?

"Well . . I didn't want to act like I was surprised (which was hard not to do) so I was just like, 'hey, how's it going, Ken?' You know, it's like - what do I say to this person who I know but I've never seen dressed like a damn telephone before . . you know? It was awkward."

"Oh my god - that would be awkward . . . really awkward! Well, did he say why he was doing this . . job, I guess it's a job, right?"

"Well, this is the really sad part. You know how he's struggled financially - trying to put his dog through obedience school and all that . . . well, he told me that he's been really depressed the past couple of months and the way he's dealt with the depression is he's holed up in his apartment and watched movies - nonstop. Well, I guess he's managed to run up such a huge Blockbuster bill that he might have to take his dog out of private obedience school and home school her."

"Oh my god . . . I had no idea this was going on! He's so quiet about his personal life. Isn't that funny - always laughing on the outside but dying on the inside."

"Oh well. I just wanted to know if he'd been fired or quit, you know. So I guess this 'cellphone gig' is like extra, part-time work or something."

"I guess. This is just terrible. I'm gonna call Trudy and see if she can get his Monday night shift back, I mean, c'mon - he shouldn't be standing out on the street dressed as a phone. Was it at least like an iphone or a Blackberry . . . you know, something nice?"

"No. It was like the crappiest freebie phone - you know - the kind they give you when you sign up for service."

"Oh . . . this just breaks my heart. My little Kenny dressed up like a cheap phone walkin' the street just to make ends meet. Damn it, Ryan. Somethings gotta change in this country! This is not right!"

"Tell me about it. Things are tough all over. In fact, I'm looking at taking an editing job with the Trinity Broadcasting Network."

"TBN!? Are you kidding me?

"Hey . . . gotta go where the money is and God's never low on cash."

"Yeah, well. I think, maybe, you better drive back to 17th St. and ask Ken if they have an extra cellphone suit."

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

Episode 12

MY V.I.
(a soap opera)

Storm clouds were gathering and

a crowd was forming outside the V.I.

It seems that Olga Renderklott, the haughtiest of all Balboa Island residents, had decided to appoint herself the unofficial spokesman of the "YES on underground utilites" movement.

"Wake up, fair citizens of Balboa Island. For safety sake you must vote YES for underground utilities," proclaimed Mrs. Renderklott into her bull horn.

Olga Renderklott - of the San Marino Renderklotts - was an abrasive, pretentious, long-time resident of Balboa Island. She and her husband, Raymond, resided in a shamelessly gaudy home on the south bayfront: a massive, double-lot, bastardized tudor/moroccan/moorish style concoction of her own design and - had they posessed less money - someone might have told them so but right about the time anyone came close to calling her out or questioning her bulldozing ways she would shrewdly make a substantial donation to a charity or cause close to the heart of the offended party.

She was always looking for something to promote, protest or preside over; and the underground utilities issue was right up her alley . . . so to speak.

"I'll never forget the time that a vicious wind arose and the decrepit, sagging eyesores - or power lines, as some refer to them, began to sway violently. I happened to be standing directly beneath them waiting for my driver to pull around into the alley behind my home and whisk me off to a charity dinner to benefit the Deaf & Dumb Motivational Speakers Society (their motto is 'listen & speak up!') and as I stood there, terrified, I began to watch the wires swinging madly to and fro. Soon I was hypnotized by their evil swaying motion and unable to free myself from the power of their persuasive, visual grip. This quickly lead to profound nausea and caused me to vomit all over the new John Galliano dress I was wearing which I had planned to return to Neimans the next day. Well, needless to say, my evening was ruined and I was forced to keep the dress! Now you see why we must have underground utilites."

The various people in the small but curious crowd surrounding her each reacted differently to her street corner confession. Five elderly Taiwanese tourists took several photographs of her while the handful of V.I. customers who'd stepped out front to smoke kept their own opinions about Olga and the issue of underground utilities to themselves . . . except for one.

Bilge, who'd lived his whole life on the island in the small cottage his grandfather built in the 200 block of Tourmaline, decided to speak up.

"Olga, you old bottom feeder! What are you doing out here on the corner babbling like a lunatic? You and the rest of your snooty 'SoBaFro' friends can take your 'bury the wires' crusade back down to the 100 block."

Olga glared at him and demanded to know, "WHAT did you call me, Bilge Donahue?"

"Snooty?" he replied.

"No . . after that."

"Oh! 'SoBaFro?'

"Yes . . . Soho, or whatever you said."

"It's 'So-Ba-Fro' - I called you a snooty SoBaFro . . . . South Bayfronter."

Her whole body raised up as she hissed, "WELL! I never!"

With a slight smirk on his face, Bilge stared directly in her eyes and winked, "Oh really, Olga . . . not even once?"

In an instant her face went from red to white as a ghost. Without a single word she turned and stormed off down Marine Avenue.

Bilge had managed to psychologically defeat all of her wealth, pomp and prestige by silently reminding her of her most humiliating fleshly failure which took place thirty-two years before during the Boat Parade and involved the two of them, a couple of bottles of Lancer's Rose and a chilly rendezvous on the swim deck of a neighbor's yacht . . . . . Feliz Navidad!

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

Episode 11

MY V.I.

(a soap opera)

Cindy entered the office shouting, "High five, girl! That was awesome. You just said what everybody's wanted to say to that guy for years."

Charmaine was sitting with her head down at Trudy's desk and unenthusiastically turned to "high five" her.

Seeing that she was crying again Cindy asked, "What's wrong now?'

"I hate that I got so upset - my mother raised me to respect my elders," was all she would say.

What Cindy did not understand was the way Charmaine had been brought up. Her mother was a portly, chain-smoking, mustachoed, schizophrenic, globe-trotting Jehovah's Witness missionary who posessed a penchant for Parliments, Popoff, pastries, piety, paisley, parties, pontificating and pineapple pot pourri. Needless to say, any child raised in such a home would be doomed to confusion and Charmaine was no exception.

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

Episode 10

MY V.I.
(a soap opera)

"What's ringing?" Cindy asked.

Simza grabbed her enormous bag and began to fumble through it, "It's my phone."

After digging to the bottom, she extracted a shiny new iphone.

"You've got an iphone?" Cindy asked.

"What? Just because I'm a gypsy you think I can't have nice things?"

"No . . no. I didn't mean . . . "

She put the phone to her ear, "Hello, Simza here. Yes . . . yes. I'll be right there."

Putting the phone back in her bag she announced, "I've got to go. I forgot I was supposed to meet my sister thirty minutes ago at The Gypsy Den."

Cindy stood as Simza got up, "I understand. So you're off to the gypsy den, huh? Sounds mysterious - where is it? Hidden away in the mountains somewhere?"

Simza cast a disparaging look her way, "What? Are you kidding me? It's a coffee house over in Costa Mesa . . . you've been watching too many movies!"

Simza hugged her once more, reiterated her warning to be careful and she made her way out the dining room door to her camper.

Cindy watched through the window as the old gypsy pulled onto Marine Avenue and smiled when it dawned on her that this was the first time Simza had come and gone without it costing her anything - but as she turned around, she realized that all the salt and pepper shakers were missing in the dining room.

"Gypsies," she mumbled.

Cindy decided she'd better check on Charmaine who was last seen crying on the phone in back. As she entered the office, she found a far more composed Charmaine drying her eyes with a tissue.

"Are you o.k., honey?" Cindy asked as she put her arm around her.

"Yeah, I'm o.k."

"What did Bilge say to get you so upset?"

"Oh, he was making fun of me and told me that my idol, Bella Abzug, was dead - which I found out is true. I just called a friend of mine and had her "google" her name for me and she told me it was true - she died in 1998 - and I've been voting for her all this time! Guess he's right - I am an idiot!"

"Did he call you that?"

"Yeah, sort of."

"Well, I'm gonna go give him a piece of my mind - NO ONE talks to my servers that way! No one!"

"No, Cindy, don't. It's not important."

"Oh yes it is. That lard ass sits out there everyday and always manages to say something stupid or inappropriate and I've had it."

"Please don't say anything, Cindy - I'll take care of it - please."

"Well, alright," Cindy said, "but do not let him give you a hard time . . . I mean it."

Cindy smiled and walked back out to the bar. Seeing her, Bilge yelled out, "Where the hell've you been? People are getting thirsty around here!"

Cindy was about to unload on him when suddenly the door from the kitchen swung open wildly and slammed against the cabinet next to it. Out stormed an angry and determined Charmaine.

Crossing over in front of the bar and right into the bloated face of Bilge - she unleashed her tornadic fury.

"Listen, you! Who the hell do you think you are spouting orders to her and making fun of me - you beached whale!" Her unbridled wrath nearly knocked him off his barstool.

"You're a fat, disgusting, ignorant, misogynistic son of a . . . son of a . . "

Cindy stood by thinking, "say it, girl, come on - say it."

"son of a . . "

Confused, Cindy thought, "just say it!"

"You son of a GUN!" Charmaine blurted out as she turned and ran crying back into the office.

"Son of a gun?" Cindy thought as she turned and followed her in back.

The entire bar sat for a moment in stunned silence then Bilge spoke up, "Did she say something about a massage?"

Bucky shook his head and replied, "She called you a misogynist, you moron."

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

Episode 9

MY V.I.
(a soap opera)

Cindy could best be described as the proverbial "mother hen" of the Village Inn.

She was, by nature, a caring and nurturing person and that care and nurture was lavished upon her customers and especially upon her fellow employees. It was for that reason that she reacted so strongly to Bilge's treatment of Charmaine.

"BILGE! What did you say to her?"

The aged angler stuttered and stammered, "What . . what did I do? Bucky, help me out here. . . hey, Cindy . . Cindy . . ."

But, his cries went unheeded as Cindy vanished back through the kitchen and into the office looking for the distraught Charmaine.

Cindy found her on the phone carrying on a frantic conversation and decided not to bother her. Walking back into the lounge, she was greeted by an equally frantic Simza.

"Cindy. Come quickly!"

Knowing Simza the way that Cindy did, she knew it was no use to argue so she obediantly followed the gypsy into the dining room.

"What is it?" Cindy asked.

Simza motioned for her to be seated in the booth where she had been sitting, doing her reading. Sitting down next to her - she took Cindy's hand.

"Cynthia, my concerns for you were real!"

"How so?"

Simza looked up at the ceiling and waved her hands about in the air.

"I have seen great and terrible things about your future!"

Cindy was somewhat surprised, "Terrible things in my future?"

"YES!" Simza grabbed her hand again and gazed intently into her eyes. "You must tread ever so cautiously the next several days - there is peril at every turn!"

Cindy had never taken Simza's claims of clairvoyance seriously but something about her current intensity made her wonder and take pause.

"Simza . . what are you talking about? Should I be afraid?"

"You should be CAREFUL!"

"Careful? Why? What should I be careful of?"

"O.K. Let me tell you what Simza sees. First: those close to you have begun to change and act very strangely - have you noticed?"

Cindy thought about Michelle and the peculiar way she reacted after her braid was ripped off - and then there was Sky; he certainly had changed.

"Oh my god - Simza, you're right!"

"See, SEE! Simza knows these things. Now, Cindy, listen to Simza. There's more: there is a thief amongst you, here at the inn by the village."

"It's The Village Inn . ."

"Whatever. . . . there is someone who takes that which does not belong to them. WATCHOUT!"

Cindy thought a moment and then remembered that Chrystal's money had been missing the night before. Her eyes grew big as she whispered, "Oh my goodness, Simza, Chrystal's money was stolen last night!"

Simza grabbed Cindy and hugged her tightly. "There is one more thing."

Cindy was now completely convinced of her sagacity. "What Simza . . . what else?"

The gypsy took her hand again, "Well . . . . I see two men coming into your life - soon, very soon. One - not so exciting, not so handsome but perfect for you. The other; very intoxicating, very charming but BEWARE! He brings great danger and must be avoided at all costs. Both will pursue you but you must be be very discerning. It is essential that you choose properly - with your mind, not with your lady parts!"

"Oh, Simza, I'm afraid . . . wait . . . did you say 'lady parts?'"

"Don't be afraid - be smart!"

..................................... C h o o s e W i s e l y , Cindy !..............................................Mr. Right?

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