Step by Step

Roscoe dreamed he was Cyd Charisse dancing with Fred Astaire. He saw himself in fishnet stockings, high heels, doing leg extentions. He woke up thrilled and troubled. Why wasn't he the man?
Following nights had him dreaming of being Ginger Rogers, Ann Miller, DEbbie Reynolds and Chita Rivera.
When he dreamed of being Carmen Miranda it was time to get help.
DR. Anschluss listened quietly before giving his opinion. This was normal, he said. He, himself, often dreamed of being Joan Crawford, Bette Davis, and Rosalind Russell. I wake up refreshed and happy. Sometimes I'll don a garter belt.
Roscoe returned home satisfied. It was time for lessons and lip gloss.

Role Model

The country is looking for a role model. Our politicians, spiritual leaders and pundits fail us. We don't trust them.
Who do we turn to?
My choice is Matthew Mc Conaghy. He's got dimples, a great smile, a toned body, amazing hair. His later movies are excellent.
But what sets him apart are those Lincoln car commercials. Cool, in control, whispering to himself as he effortlessly guides the car around sharp turns. Overhead shots o him cruising down an open, flat highway to some very cool place. He has never gotten a flat, stalled out or gotten lost.
This man is cooler than Clooney, Pitt and DiCaprio. Is substance really important? Look at all the substance Steven Hawking had and what happened to him?
I used to think we could trust Mario Batali until the harrassment charges hit.
I do feel the people who hold down the giant balloons at the Macy's Parade are worth of respect, rope burn and all.

March Madness

Brackets-Betting-Point spreads-screaming crowds-cheerleaders-bellowing coaches-excted play by play.
Power moves, balletic spins, catapulted leaps, pounding bodies, long range shots, whistles, drums, chants.
Chest thumps, flexed biceps, thunder jams, tattoos, strange hair, players that look 30, others seem barely 15.
300 pound Charles Barkely, six games at once, four TV networks.
After the championship, arenas empty out.
We switch to baseball. Sit in our recliners sipping a beverage.
About the third inning we nap. Welcome to April.

Exterminator

I fell hard for Adolpho the exterminator, she told me. He was tall and strapping with dark eyes. I wss 18 and sick of silly boys. When he came to our home on a mouse issue I couldn't take me eyes off him. Afterward, I slipped him my number. Days passed. I only knew his smile indicated he thought me a foolish girl. I was crushed.
Then the phone rang. It was him, asking me to lunch. I was shaking with excitement.
He was so charming, yet forceful. He showed me a book full of photos of dead roaches, over 300 in all, confirmed kills. It placed him 31st on the list of exterminators in the state. He had ambitions to be in the top ten. How could you not love a man like that?
So what happened?
He was killed in a fire.
I'm sorry.
I mourned for a long time. Then gradually, I went on with my life. I'm dating a toe fungus specialist.
How romantic.
Yes, I agree. Love is strange.

Trust

Alonzo, you have caused me a great deal of aggravation. Why should I trust you?
We did well for a time with bitcoin, Steve.
Until the bottom dropped out. And what of my dog? I asked you to watch it for a weekend. It almost choked on a squeaky toy.
Dogs love them.
Not mine. He thought it was food. And that car you sold me. There was a body in the trunk.
My cousin Sal has a bad temper.
You glue gunned my hairpiece to my scalp. I can't get it off.
You said it kept slipping off.
What about you and my wife?
I was teaching her a golf swing.
Rubbing up against her. Besides, Nora only has one arm.
Details, details. Look Steve, it seems you do not trust me. A freindship cannot exist without trust. I'm afraid we must part ways. I hope you find other friends.
Trust me, I will. Give me back my glue gun I loaned you.
Actually I loaned it to my cousin Sal. I didn't ask his intentions.