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 6

MY V.I.
(a soap opera)

Cindy's stolen moment of rest would be short lived. As she leaned back in Trudy's office chair a familiar roar approached which caused her to shout the dreaded name, "SIMZA!"

"Oh god, please don't let it be her," she mumbled as she bounded out of the office and through the kitchen door. But, alas, her fears were materializing right before her eyes. She watched, helplessly, as the tragic and most peculiar camper with a bad muffler jocked back and forth trying to wedge itself into a parking spot in front of the V.I.

The automobile, a 1973 American Motors Gremlin with a camper attached, belonged to a Romanian gypsy named Simza who had happened into the V.I. a couple of years before when the vehicle in question broke down on Marine Ave. Cindy, ever the helpful one, had taken pity upon the old soothsayer and generously offered the use of her Triple A card for towing and even recommended a repairman who's bill she eventually got conned into paying.

What gypsy doesn't love an easy mark and from that day forward Simza made regular pilgrimages to the V.I. to see her "beloved saint," Cindy. Each visit usually wound up costing Cindy at least $100.00.

"Hey, quick, come here!" Cindy yelled to Spencer.

Walking over, Spencer inquired, "What's up?"

"See that beat up blue car with the camper out front?"

"Yeah."

"There's and old gypsy woman driving it that's gonna come in here looking for me and I don't want to talk to her."

"O.k., so you want me to tell her you're not here?"

"Yeah, please. I'll be in the office."

"O.k., but I just put in an order for a bunch of drinks."

"Well, is it beer or wine, I mean, you can get those, can't you?"

"Some are beers but two are Blue Hawaiians and there's three Bahama Mama's."

Cindy hung her head in frustration then looked up again, "I'm gonna KILL Chrystal! O.k., never mind."

"I can tell them it'll be a minute if you want."

"No . . . I'll make the stupid drinks and deal with the crazy gypsy woman!"

Cindy stepped back behind the bar and grabbed the Blue Curacao to make the Blue Hawaiians and by the time she got to the well she could hear the familiar sounds and smell the familiar smells of Simza. The sound was a sort of rustling and clinking of glass and the smell was a combination of incense, patchouli, funky cheese and dirty gym socks.

"Cindy . . . my darling Cindy!" Simza cried with her deep Romanian accent as she entered the bar.

Everyone in the place turned and gave a unanimous look of shock and disbelief as the elderly, shabby Simza spun around three times clapping her hands and finishing with a loud, "HEY!".

Cindy called back, "Hello, Simza. Come sit here at the bar."

"Oh, of course my precious one . . . of course!"

As she made her way toward the bar her voluminous costume brushed up against everyone she passed, "Oh, sorry. Please, excuse, excuse me. I must see my precious Cindy. Sorry, please excuse me."

Finally, firmly planted on the last barstool, she extended her weathered hands to Cindy and smiled her semi-toothless smile.

"Oh Cindy. It's so good to see you, Cindy."

Cindy took her hands and smiled back with her perfectly bleached, invisalign straightened smile, "It's good to see you too, Simza. I see the car is still working."

"Oh yes. Thanks god for you Cindy!"

"Well I'm glad. So what brings you over this way my dear?"

"Well. I've been having GREAT worry for you."

"ME?" Cindy asked.

"Yes, Cindy and I wanted to come and do a special reading for your future."

"A special reading for my future, huh?"

"Yes."

"What's it gonna cost me?"

"Well, Simza is running a special today. One reading for two drinks. Special, just for you."

"Two drinks, huh?"

"Just for you and just for today!"

Cindy still had her two shift drinks so she figured, what the heck.

"O.k., I'll do it."

"O.k. but first, please . . . the drinks."

"Alright. What are you drinking?"

"Two Cuervo shots, chilled, no salt, in a rocks glass, one lime and a Modelo chaser."

"We don't have Modelo."

"Tecate?"

"No Tecate."

"Carta Blanca?"

"No Carta Blanca."

"Bohemia . . . Superior?"

"Nope."

" Mickey's Big Mouth?"

"NO! How about a Pacifico?"

Simza turned and spit on the floor. "That tastes like what the cat puts in the litter box!"

"Corona?"

"O.k., Corona's o.k. - I take a Corona."

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