cop and didn’t want to risk a
ticket. I just drove around the block,” Vito said. I held on to the box and
closed my eyes. When I opened them again we were parked in Vito’s driveway.
“Thanks again, Mina,” Vito said.
“No
problem,” I lied, handing him the box and getting out of the car.
Vito
put the car back into gear and waved goodbye to me. Boy, he must be in a
hurry. He didn’t even bother to change into the shirt he made me pick up for
him. Huh.
I
opened the door and Vinnie greeted me by rolling on his back and demanding a
belly rub. I threw my raincoat over the railing and picked off a mousie toy
that was stuck to his belly in more marshmallow gunk. I padded into the
kitchen and peered into the fridge to see what might be playing for dinner. It
looked like I was fully stocked with condiments but no food to wear them.
Thinking pizza delivery sounded pretty good, I scrounged around for the phone
book. Phone book in hand, I called PizzaNow! and ordered a medium white skinny
pizza with onions, green peppers, tomatoes, mushrooms and anchovies. Things
were looking up.
The
pizza arrived, and I settled down to a pizza orgy for one and watched Stand Up
Comic-palooza with a fresh Mug O’Merlot, sans birdie doo-doo. At a commercial
I went upstairs and gave Marie some pizza crust. Then I settled back downstairs
on the sofa. The last thing I remember was Vinnie curled up next to me on the
floor, snuggling my hand .
CHAPTER 3
(Sunday)
I
woke up on the
sofa to Vinnie snuffling inside the pizza box and a Family Cook-Along rerun.
I scooped Vinnie’s head out of the box and petted him. He felt lumpy. I
looked closer. A piece of pizza crust was stuck to him. Vinnie scooted away
and ran into the basement. I got up, washed the gunk from my fingers and made
some coffee. I poured a cup, lifted it to my lips and glanced at the clock.
And then I gasped and spat the coffee back out again. It was 9:50 a.m. I was
supposed to meet Aunt Muriel at church at 10:30. And for brunch afterward. And
the polomathingy after that. Ack. Ack. Ack.
I
grabbed some paper towels and swiped at the mess on the floor. At least Vito
would have something different to Swiffer today. I threw some Kitty Cookies in
Vinnie’s bowl, and started quickly upstairs when my foot complained. I told it
to report to Customer Service. I climbed the rest of the steps, fed Marie and
got in the shower. A few nanoseconds later I was out again, wet, purple and
red. There was a dull throb in my foot. My face glowed a shiny bright pink.
And my eyes were still bloodshot. I shrugged. I figured I’d wear Auntie’s
sunglasses again. I pulled on a light-blue sleeveless linen dress and cute
spikey white sandals, throb or no throb. I pulled my wet hair up into a
quickie French braid, patted on some foundation, and finished with some
lip-gloss. With any luck I might pass for sun-poisoned.
I
dashed downstairs, grabbed my purse and stepped into the oven otherwise known
as my van. I started the engine, regretting the non-working AC. I remoted the
garage door open and lead-footed it down the driveway. I looked in my rearview
and realized I’d almost smooshed Mr. Perfect flat on the curb, along with his
Dinasouris Muttis. There he was again, greeting me in another moment of my
time-challenged hysteria. Sporting his usual tanned torso under a white t-shirt.
His hair was freshly washed and he wore a new, somewhat pissed off look. I
waved a little in the rearview mirror at him, to which he shook his head and
loped off with his hound. I leaned my head on the steering wheel and sighed.
When I looked up, I saw Vito ambling toward my car all gussied up in his Sunday
best: a powder blue leisure suit and white patent leather Pat Boone shoes.
Good grief. We not only matched; we looked like we were going to the prom
together.
“Hiya,
Toots, you leaving for
ticket. I just drove around the block,” Vito said. I held on to the box and
closed my eyes. When I opened them again we were parked in Vito’s driveway.
“Thanks again, Mina,” Vito said.
“No
problem,” I lied, handing him the box and getting out of the car.
Vito
put the car back into gear and waved goodbye to me. Boy, he must be in a
hurry. He didn’t even bother to change into the shirt he made me pick up for
him. Huh.
I
opened the door and Vinnie greeted me by rolling on his back and demanding a
belly rub. I threw my raincoat over the railing and picked off a mousie toy
that was stuck to his belly in more marshmallow gunk. I padded into the
kitchen and peered into the fridge to see what might be playing for dinner. It
looked like I was fully stocked with condiments but no food to wear them.
Thinking pizza delivery sounded pretty good, I scrounged around for the phone
book. Phone book in hand, I called PizzaNow! and ordered a medium white skinny
pizza with onions, green peppers, tomatoes, mushrooms and anchovies. Things
were looking up.
The
pizza arrived, and I settled down to a pizza orgy for one and watched Stand Up
Comic-palooza with a fresh Mug O’Merlot, sans birdie doo-doo. At a commercial
I went upstairs and gave Marie some pizza crust. Then I settled back downstairs
on the sofa. The last thing I remember was Vinnie curled up next to me on the
floor, snuggling my hand .
CHAPTER 3
(Sunday)
I
woke up on the
sofa to Vinnie snuffling inside the pizza box and a Family Cook-Along rerun.
I scooped Vinnie’s head out of the box and petted him. He felt lumpy. I
looked closer. A piece of pizza crust was stuck to him. Vinnie scooted away
and ran into the basement. I got up, washed the gunk from my fingers and made
some coffee. I poured a cup, lifted it to my lips and glanced at the clock.
And then I gasped and spat the coffee back out again. It was 9:50 a.m. I was
supposed to meet Aunt Muriel at church at 10:30. And for brunch afterward. And
the polomathingy after that. Ack. Ack. Ack.
I
grabbed some paper towels and swiped at the mess on the floor. At least Vito
would have something different to Swiffer today. I threw some Kitty Cookies in
Vinnie’s bowl, and started quickly upstairs when my foot complained. I told it
to report to Customer Service. I climbed the rest of the steps, fed Marie and
got in the shower. A few nanoseconds later I was out again, wet, purple and
red. There was a dull throb in my foot. My face glowed a shiny bright pink.
And my eyes were still bloodshot. I shrugged. I figured I’d wear Auntie’s
sunglasses again. I pulled on a light-blue sleeveless linen dress and cute
spikey white sandals, throb or no throb. I pulled my wet hair up into a
quickie French braid, patted on some foundation, and finished with some
lip-gloss. With any luck I might pass for sun-poisoned.
I
dashed downstairs, grabbed my purse and stepped into the oven otherwise known
as my van. I started the engine, regretting the non-working AC. I remoted the
garage door open and lead-footed it down the driveway. I looked in my rearview
and realized I’d almost smooshed Mr. Perfect flat on the curb, along with his
Dinasouris Muttis. There he was again, greeting me in another moment of my
time-challenged hysteria. Sporting his usual tanned torso under a white t-shirt.
His hair was freshly washed and he wore a new, somewhat pissed off look. I
waved a little in the rearview mirror at him, to which he shook his head and
loped off with his hound. I leaned my head on the steering wheel and sighed.
When I looked up, I saw Vito ambling toward my car all gussied up in his Sunday
best: a powder blue leisure suit and white patent leather Pat Boone shoes.
Good grief. We not only matched; we looked like we were going to the prom
together.
“Hiya,
Toots, you leaving for
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