Yesterday was Stephen Fitzpatrick’s birthday, and the night before, a few of his faithful friends gathered at Steve’s to celebrate.
I was, as usual, the first to arrive. Stephen and his wife Audrey have two daughters; the eldest, Fenya, is four. It was she who greeted me at the door when I arrived.
“This is a cobra,” she said, wielding a purple plastic snake. “It’s really mean, and poisonous.”
I played along as Fenya showed me the signature hood and the deadly fangs.
“Well,” I said, somewhat condescendingly, “You’d better be careful – you don’t want to get bitten.”
She gave me a look full of exasperation and rolled her eyes. “It’s only a toy,” she said.
Now I know why W.C. Fields didn’t work with kids. They always get the best lines.
***
It was a pretty busy weekend all around. Friday night Sylvia and I went to Ikea; she bought me a picture frame and a lamp. The picture frame is for the bathroom; she wants me to hang something that will go with my film noir shower curtain. I thought maybe I’d create a single enigmatic question mark to place within the frame, to hang above my toilet. Or perhaps the word “OBEY.”
Sunday was Mother’s Day, of course, and Staff Photo Day at Hole’s. Routine is comforting; Mom and Dad came out for brunch, I gave Mom one of Hole’s signature hanging baskets, and then I came home to watch Who Framed Roger Rabbit?.
Wouldn’t life be so much better if we coexisted with cartoons? Maybe then, we’d realize how absurd the whole affair is.
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