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Authors: Charles Willeford
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rather than to go alone; we went out to dinner sometimes, rather than to go alone; and we sometimes went to the White Shark on Flagler Street to drink beer and play pool. We both loved to play pool, and as partners we were a deadly combination. We invariably won more games than we lost. But we didn't have much else in common. And the times were becoming more frequent when I preferred going to a movie, or out to eat somewhere alone, rather than taking Larry along.
Larry had a literal mind, and although I knew him well enough by now to know that he would and did take many things literally, it was a characteristic that one never gets used to completely. His interpretation of movies, for example, was maddening. He was unable to grasp an abstract conception. When we discussed 'Last Tango in Paris'', he claimed that the reason Brando's wife had purchased identical dressing gowns for her husband and her lover was because she got them on sale. This absurd, practical interpretation of the identical dressing gowns makes Larry seem almost feminine in his reasoning, but there was nothing effeminate about him. He was tough, or as the Cubans in Miami say, 'un hombre duro'—a hard man.
As an ex-cop, Larry had an excellent job at National Security, the nation-wide private investigation agency. He was a senior security officer, but not a field investigator, although he had a license, of course. He was an administrator, and worked in the Miami office on a regular forty-hour week. He never went out on investigative assignments. He has a B.A. in Police Science from the University of Florida, and his literal mind, apparently, was not a drawback insofar as his work was concerned. He wasn't allowed to say exactly what it was that he did at National Security, but his work had something to do with personnel assignments, and keeping track of cases and operators in the field. He made about twenty thousand a year, if not more.
Part of Larry's personality problem, although Larry was unaware of any problem, was his inability to taste anything. Something was awry with Larry's taste buds. He was unable to tell the difference between sweet and sour. Everything tasted just about the same to him. One night when were both at Don's house, Larry took two bites out of a wax pear, picking the pear out of a bowl on the sideboard and biting into it without asking Clara if he could have it. The point is, he took the 'second'' bite before complaining that "this is the worst goddamned pear I ever ate."
The fruit looked realistic, all right, and anyone could have made the same mistake in the dim dining room, but no one with any taste at all would have taken the second bite. Larry would have gone on, in all probability, and eaten the entire pear if Don and I hadn't started to laugh. Clara, of course, didn't laugh. The wax fruit was quite expensive; she had purchased it from Neiman-Marcus' Bal Harbour store. On another night, he ate a colored soap ball in Don's bathroom. There was a full glass of these pastel soap balls in there, and he thought he was eating a piece of candy. He didn't stop to consider that it would be peculiar to keep a jar of candy on a shelf beside the bathtub.
At any rate, Larry's lack of sensuous taste extended into tastelessness in other matters; in the clothes he wore, in his speech, and even in women. But there was nothing wrong with his olfactory organ. He had a keen sense of smell, which is unusual when something is wrong with your taste buds, and in a way, somewhat baffling when you consider that if he could smell the soap, and recognize the smell, why would he eat it under the impression that it was a piece of candy? All he could come up with in this instance was that "It smelled good enough to eat, so I thought it was candy."
When we went out together to eat, either for lunch or dinner, he invariably ordered a club sandwich. A club sandwich is easy to eat, of
Larry had a literal mind, and although I knew him well enough by now to know that he would and did take many things literally, it was a characteristic that one never gets used to completely. His interpretation of movies, for example, was maddening. He was unable to grasp an abstract conception. When we discussed 'Last Tango in Paris'', he claimed that the reason Brando's wife had purchased identical dressing gowns for her husband and her lover was because she got them on sale. This absurd, practical interpretation of the identical dressing gowns makes Larry seem almost feminine in his reasoning, but there was nothing effeminate about him. He was tough, or as the Cubans in Miami say, 'un hombre duro'—a hard man.
As an ex-cop, Larry had an excellent job at National Security, the nation-wide private investigation agency. He was a senior security officer, but not a field investigator, although he had a license, of course. He was an administrator, and worked in the Miami office on a regular forty-hour week. He never went out on investigative assignments. He has a B.A. in Police Science from the University of Florida, and his literal mind, apparently, was not a drawback insofar as his work was concerned. He wasn't allowed to say exactly what it was that he did at National Security, but his work had something to do with personnel assignments, and keeping track of cases and operators in the field. He made about twenty thousand a year, if not more.
Part of Larry's personality problem, although Larry was unaware of any problem, was his inability to taste anything. Something was awry with Larry's taste buds. He was unable to tell the difference between sweet and sour. Everything tasted just about the same to him. One night when were both at Don's house, Larry took two bites out of a wax pear, picking the pear out of a bowl on the sideboard and biting into it without asking Clara if he could have it. The point is, he took the 'second'' bite before complaining that "this is the worst goddamned pear I ever ate."
The fruit looked realistic, all right, and anyone could have made the same mistake in the dim dining room, but no one with any taste at all would have taken the second bite. Larry would have gone on, in all probability, and eaten the entire pear if Don and I hadn't started to laugh. Clara, of course, didn't laugh. The wax fruit was quite expensive; she had purchased it from Neiman-Marcus' Bal Harbour store. On another night, he ate a colored soap ball in Don's bathroom. There was a full glass of these pastel soap balls in there, and he thought he was eating a piece of candy. He didn't stop to consider that it would be peculiar to keep a jar of candy on a shelf beside the bathtub.
At any rate, Larry's lack of sensuous taste extended into tastelessness in other matters; in the clothes he wore, in his speech, and even in women. But there was nothing wrong with his olfactory organ. He had a keen sense of smell, which is unusual when something is wrong with your taste buds, and in a way, somewhat baffling when you consider that if he could smell the soap, and recognize the smell, why would he eat it under the impression that it was a piece of candy? All he could come up with in this instance was that "It smelled good enough to eat, so I thought it was candy."
When we went out together to eat, either for lunch or dinner, he invariably ordered a club sandwich. A club sandwich is easy to eat, of
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