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Dr. Freudine And Miss C Surprise 29th With A Party!Feb 27 '04 (Updated Feb 29 '04) Write an essay on this topic.
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The Bottom Line May the party begin...
Author’s Note— 29th’s birthday is actually long past, but this chapter will fit in after The Perfect Wife review in November for the book. His and Dr. Freudine’s friends (from Epinions.com) are invited. ************** After a fitful sleep I get out of bed, disgusted with myself. Somehow I have to surprise 29th with a belated birthday party and couldn’t do it on my own, but who should I ask? Miss C? Jankp? Surely not Dr. Devience! I guess Miss C will want to help out and so I call her. She is thrilled at the idea and said to leave the guests to her; all I need to do is provide snacks. So I make sure 29th and I are on for tonight (I said I wanted to watch A Clockwork Orange at his place) and start baking muffins. Now, after a reassuring call to Miss C, it’s time to head over there. I’m wearing a sparkly blue party dress and low heels and leave a fresh-smelling waft of Green Tea Therapy. “Hi, 29th...dear!” I gush a little too forcefully as he opens his door looking shaggy and gorgeous. He smiles in appreciation of my appearance so I twirl for him, laughing. “What’s this in the container, beautiful?” he drawls, letting me in and closing and locking the door. “Different kinds of muffins I made for your birthday. Wasn’t sure what you’d like.” He expresses surprise and takes the huge, sealed bowl, opens it and looks in. “Doc, these look and smell magnificent! What a little sweetheart you are." He bends over to kiss me meltingly. "No one, not even my mother, has ever baked me anything.” It takes a while to register, then I exclaim,“No! You can’t be serious, 29th. All those girls you’ve gone out with, at least one of them...” I trail off as he shakes his head, amused. “I tend to pick the ones on rabbit food diets who never bake,” he explains while picking out one of my Peanutty Banana Walnut Muffins. His teeth sinks into it just as the doorbell rings and I grin, indicating I would answer it. I unlock and open the door. “Why, it’s Miss C!” She winks at me and smiles at 29th. “Hey, Doc and 29th wonder of the world. I heard it was your birthday and my clients wanted to tag along and wish you well. Mind if they come in?” He stands there chewing in wide-eyed wonder. “Well, no, I guess not...” The first to appear with her encouragement is a pot-bellied, old fart wearing shorts underneath a woman’s long, fake fur coat. He leers at Miss C before inspecting me and 29th, then abruptly grabs the bowl to shove it at me, snatches first one of 29th’s hands to kiss ten times, the other ten times and his cheeks five and four times. “Happy, suckin’ birthday! Gi’ me one of those,” he growls, turning his attention to my muffins and swiping one (Cranberry Spice). Before anyone knows what to say, while a stunned 29th wipes off his cheeks and hands, another guy strolls in. A little younger, all in black leather with a black Stetson and cowboy boots, with a ladies’ man Cheshire cat smile oozing from him. 㦉th, I heard you’re in danger of becoming involved with a psychiatrist, so...” He digs into his coat pockets. “Here’s a crystal ball, a rabbit’s foot, a deck of Tarot cards, rosary beads, a squirt gun and a gift certificate to Butch’s Butchery, for buying meat.” I gasp and he realizes how he sounded. “Meat of other animals to eat, doll. Happy birthday, man.” Then he and the old fart slither towards the door, one on each side, to signal to somebody outside. I bite my lip, wondering if I could laugh without hurting anyone’s feelings, and notice Miss C winking at me. Suddenly with a toot of his toy horn, the cool one announces the visitor. Another pudgy man with a fishing hat on strides forth, straight up to 29th to punch his arm as he turns from depositing his treasures nearby. “Sordid! My god, is it really you?” 29th cries, bursting out in a smile. “Of course not, girly man. I’m a figment of your imagination and you’re dreamin’ in bed, which is what you do best there. You have scads of dreams making you something you ain’t, a real scads guru you are, and you’re jus’ havin’ another episode thinkin’ I’d wanna wish you happy birthday...or cheat on my lovely wife!” “Hey,” Miss C pipes up, “you told me she was threatening divorce if you didn’t see a sex therapist.” Sordid snorts. “A likely story from an unlikely sex therapist!” Miss C plants her hands on her slim hips and has tears in her eyes, staring at the unmoved, cynical man. I hold my breath, watching the two eying each other. “Muffin, anyone? I’ve got lots of ‘em, so let’s make this a party!” I sing out and offer my muffins to Sordid and Miss C. She nabs one, it didn’t matter which, then calls out for everyone else to get in here. DavidMac and his friend, Millinocket, with a funny birthday card; Suzer with catnip for all four of 29th’s cats; and voxpoptart with a manly hug for 29th and 29 boxes fitting inside each other. At first he’s puzzled, but soon laughs, takes them and throws them on the floor behind him. “Empathy! Bear! Bitten! Bengal! Christmas is early this year, darlings. Come on out.” He kneels down as three of them jump out of their hiding places and race to either him or the boxes. Pretty soon he’s laughing away while petting one pretty calico. Miss C whispers in my ear and I go join 29th. “Hey, hon.” I kneel beside him. “There’s an old woman outside in a car who needs you to come out to see her.” Frowning at me he holds up an index finger and leaves the house. I then hear pleased yells from him and an older woman, but when I try to follow him out, the two stalwart guards, fur coat and leather man, bar my way. What the heck? “Excuse me, please.” “Sorry, we have our orders, Doc,” leather man says. “Orders! Whose orders? Let me out!” “The woman’s,” fur coat snaps. “Gi’ me another one of those.” He grabs a muffin and bites into it, oblivious to my growing fury. Suddenly there’s cursing and screaming outside and I lunge for the door knob, only to be pushed back. Miss C scampers up, touching my arm as we, actually all of us, listen (or watch out the window) to a fight. It’s a new woman’s voice calling him names and crying for all she’s worth. I think I hear 29th identify her as A.J., then after some silence a car door slams and the car roars to life just as he yanks the barred door open. Hastily the goons part and Sordid and voxpoptart close the curtain. “Well, guess you’re wondering what that was about,” he sighs to me. Miss C asks if she could set the muffins down on a table, I nod and she takes them. “There was a really great old lady and her daughter out there in a car, but A.J. took the opportunity to force her birthday present on me, 29 balloons. Gees!” “A.J. is an ex-girlfriend?” He screws up his face in horror. “Hell no! We’ve never been more than acquaintances, but she became obsessed with me. I told you about her in therapy, remember?” “Oh yeah,” I murmur. “I believe you now.” A pounding at the door startles us and 29th hurries to look through the peephole. His face transforms at the sight and he shouts at me to bring out all the good glasses I could find. Opening the door he steps forward to embrace the tall, British-looking guy with bottles of rum in both hands. “Am I glad to see you! Was your flight delayed, mate? These for me? Thank you and thank you!” he exclaims and takes the bottles. I scurry to the kitchen around the cats, dragging Miss C without protest, and soon he and his friend show up to open the bottles and pour. “Doc, Captain Dave. Dave, Miss C, the sex therapist who works with Doc, the shrink.” Dave raises his bushy eyebrows, glancing up from his job with a smile. “Nice to meet you, ladies. One for you and for you...” He takes one from 29th who keeps one for himself and lifts it. “Happy birthday, matey.” He pauses as the stereo is turned on and old Eric Clapton thrusts itself into the air, then somebody knocks at the door. “May the party begin! Now no politics, y’hear?” “Aye! Aye!” we agree and drink up.  |
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