Read Online The Sportin' Life by Nancy Frederick - Free Book Online
Authors: Nancy Frederick
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’ s in Westwood, where if there were truly a God, I could meet a guy. My mood had improved and although I was perplexed about the woman and the cat, it didn ’ t weigh on my mind.
By the time I walked to my car, I was feeling almost cheerful. Maybe tonight would be The Night and I would fall in love. I unlocked the PPP and prepared to embark on a voyage toward amore. But inadvertently I glanced up the block, and there was the cat once again in the street. I marched up to the door and rang the woman ’ s bell. “ Look, ” I said as cordially as possible, “ Your cat is in the street again. Come and get him. ” She was even more unconcerned that before and I began to hate this dolly. Finally I forced her to come out and see what the cat was doing, and as she marched out of her apartment, I glanced in. The furnishings were tacky, and in the middle of one wall, like an altar, was the largest television I had ever seen. It was on. The dolly had been watching cartoons. Holy shit! This was the woman I had envied, had hoped would befriend me. Just another California bimbette.
She looked at her pet and sighed, “ Oh Fluffy Poo! ” She scooped up the cat and marched toward the door. Fluffly Poo? The cat, in its drunken state, gave me a sardonic glance, as if to say, “ If this bitch didn ’ t feed me, I ’ d puke all over her. ” I felt like puking all over her myself. I warned her not to let the cat out while it was ill, and she took my advice with as much interest as any other part of this situation. I made a resolution then. I was going to rescue that cat, and with that in mind, I drove off to Ralph ’ s to buy a kitty litter and all the other cat supplies. I knew with an undeniable certainty that the dumb dolly would let the cat out and then I was going to adopt him. He deserved a better life, and I like animals, so why not?
After that I followed my original plans. I went to Westwood where I saw a poorly reviewed comedy which wasn ’ t as bad as everybody said, except it didn ’ t really have a suitable ending. They should have redone the ending and it could have been a hit, or at least less of a failure. In any case, so many of the lines were hilarious that I left the theater in a good mood. Maybe this would be my lucky night. At Bumblebees, the scene was the same as usual, interesting. There were all these young kids, feeling good and having fun. It hadn ’ t dawned on them yet that life is hard and can sometimes be downright unbearable and so they radiated a natural high which was extremely pleasant for me to experience. I watched the dancers and tapped my toe to the beat, wishing that someone would ask me to dance, and that if he did that I would have the nerve to say yes and try to do it. How bad could I look in motion? Pretty bad, I feared. I have this theory that Fat People look Thinner while sitting still, and so I figure I have a better shot of meeting someone if I am seated when he comes up to me. And then maybe he ’ ll enjoy my conversation skills so much that he ’ ll forget to notice or overlook entirely the physical.
Soon my attention was drawn by a guy who radiated vitality and sex appeal, and I felt a real bond with him, mainly because he seemed to have the same kind of crackling energy that I feel I have. He was tall and built, and his every movement was fluid, as though his muscles were so perfectly in tune with his brain that his physical nature was a coherent part of him. His hair was long, but because he had it combed back in some kind of sleek do, he didn ’ t look shaggy. In one ear was an earring, not one of those stupid stud earrings or a tiny half-assed hoop, but a real good hoop at least an inch in diameter. He was the only man I ’ ve ever seen in an earring who didn ’ t look like a jerk. He looked like a pirate, and I bet he was one in a past life. If ever I wanted to meet a man, this was it, and I set up a silent round of prayer about all the weight I would lose if only God
By the time I walked to my car, I was feeling almost cheerful. Maybe tonight would be The Night and I would fall in love. I unlocked the PPP and prepared to embark on a voyage toward amore. But inadvertently I glanced up the block, and there was the cat once again in the street. I marched up to the door and rang the woman ’ s bell. “ Look, ” I said as cordially as possible, “ Your cat is in the street again. Come and get him. ” She was even more unconcerned that before and I began to hate this dolly. Finally I forced her to come out and see what the cat was doing, and as she marched out of her apartment, I glanced in. The furnishings were tacky, and in the middle of one wall, like an altar, was the largest television I had ever seen. It was on. The dolly had been watching cartoons. Holy shit! This was the woman I had envied, had hoped would befriend me. Just another California bimbette.
She looked at her pet and sighed, “ Oh Fluffy Poo! ” She scooped up the cat and marched toward the door. Fluffly Poo? The cat, in its drunken state, gave me a sardonic glance, as if to say, “ If this bitch didn ’ t feed me, I ’ d puke all over her. ” I felt like puking all over her myself. I warned her not to let the cat out while it was ill, and she took my advice with as much interest as any other part of this situation. I made a resolution then. I was going to rescue that cat, and with that in mind, I drove off to Ralph ’ s to buy a kitty litter and all the other cat supplies. I knew with an undeniable certainty that the dumb dolly would let the cat out and then I was going to adopt him. He deserved a better life, and I like animals, so why not?
After that I followed my original plans. I went to Westwood where I saw a poorly reviewed comedy which wasn ’ t as bad as everybody said, except it didn ’ t really have a suitable ending. They should have redone the ending and it could have been a hit, or at least less of a failure. In any case, so many of the lines were hilarious that I left the theater in a good mood. Maybe this would be my lucky night. At Bumblebees, the scene was the same as usual, interesting. There were all these young kids, feeling good and having fun. It hadn ’ t dawned on them yet that life is hard and can sometimes be downright unbearable and so they radiated a natural high which was extremely pleasant for me to experience. I watched the dancers and tapped my toe to the beat, wishing that someone would ask me to dance, and that if he did that I would have the nerve to say yes and try to do it. How bad could I look in motion? Pretty bad, I feared. I have this theory that Fat People look Thinner while sitting still, and so I figure I have a better shot of meeting someone if I am seated when he comes up to me. And then maybe he ’ ll enjoy my conversation skills so much that he ’ ll forget to notice or overlook entirely the physical.
Soon my attention was drawn by a guy who radiated vitality and sex appeal, and I felt a real bond with him, mainly because he seemed to have the same kind of crackling energy that I feel I have. He was tall and built, and his every movement was fluid, as though his muscles were so perfectly in tune with his brain that his physical nature was a coherent part of him. His hair was long, but because he had it combed back in some kind of sleek do, he didn ’ t look shaggy. In one ear was an earring, not one of those stupid stud earrings or a tiny half-assed hoop, but a real good hoop at least an inch in diameter. He was the only man I ’ ve ever seen in an earring who didn ’ t look like a jerk. He looked like a pirate, and I bet he was one in a past life. If ever I wanted to meet a man, this was it, and I set up a silent round of prayer about all the weight I would lose if only God
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