The room is slathered in a patina of garish mauve, the walls are seeping. A lava lamp glows upon the dresser.
"Have a seat," says Ben Roethlisberger.
"I've never been here," I respond. Ben roots around in his burlap NFL-issue Steelers satchel; I hear rustling, crinkling.
"Yo Ben." A voice from outside. "The cops are here man and-"
"SHHHHHH." Ben's intonation is soft, yet fills the room and the inside of my frontal lobe. Finally he has the desired item.
"Try them." He has me by the throat.
"No thanks I'm not a fan of cool ranch-MMMPHHHH"
"DON'T YA LIKE DORITOS BOY HEH HEH HEH"
I catch a glimpse of the big game on the hotel TV. The Packers punt and Will.I.Am signals for a fair catch. From my perch in the broadcasters' booth I see Jerry Jones throwing a flag. Then he picks it up, then sits down on the field Indian-style. He seems confused. It is snowing.
Chris Berman and the PC from the Mac commercials are talking to the Cowboys cheerleaders on the sidelines about how Paul Westerberg just died. A thousand puppies roll Betty White down a jagged cliff for a bottle of Miller Lite.
Oh yes, a little hobby of mine. You might even say it's grown into a passion. At first it was just, hello, what am I going to do with all these empty shelves? When I bought the stupid condo in the first place, they sold me on those shelves, really they did. Something about a tabula rasa, a gradual accrual, who can remember now, it's been two years for mercy's sake. Suffice it to say I had real hopes for my shelves in the beginning, but after a few months all I'd put up there were some unpacked boxes and a half-read copy of The Help . Languishing, really.
Well! They started to eat at me, these shelves, just nipping away at my psyche. My God, I would say to myself, I mean, look at the things, you could park a city bus in there! I tell you, it must have been some sort of divine kismet when I heard Delilah simply gushing about this fellow she'd hired for her place in the Vineyard, about how she felt energized to be in her space, really living in it, I think is what she said.
So I thought to myself, oh what's the harm in bringing this contractor or specialist or what have you over to see my shelves at least for a consultation. He wasn't asking all that much just to take a look at the dear things, and anyway, I thought, I might be able to pick up some pointers on the cheap. And I tell you, Diane, after half an hour he had changed my entire way of looking at, you know, not just the shelves but the whole condo, what a home meant to me and about me! "These things are a void," he said, which I thought was a little heavy-handed but still I could see where he was coming from. And he said, "But I've got a solution. A book solution!"
That was it, my darling, I was sold on this thing, this whole concept, this slippery slope that I've spiraled into, haha. Pretty soon it was vellum this and anachronistic typeface that, and I was finding myself at places I would have never dreamed I would be setting foot in just a month earlier: rare book auctions, estate sales...he must have dragged me to at least thirty Goodwill stores in April alone, if you can believe that!
There was method to the madness, of course, and he must have explained the whole thing to me fifty times, but again it's a bit hazy. I recall the phrase "welcoming me into my aesthetic comfort zone," and that he kept mentioning Basquiat. The whole thing is based on the map gallery at the Vatican, I remember that much. It's very subtle though, most people can't tell.
I mean, of course I read the things. That is to say, well, some of them are so ancient that they'd just turn to dust in my hands if I so much as thumb through the pages, so I leave those alone, and all those old Russian masterpieces he bought, I don't know, when I think of those miserable winters and all that heavy cream I start to feel dizzy. Oh and I got rid of The Help, too. He made a face when I showed him that one.
CONCEPT 1: Donovan is leaving Fed Ex Field after a particularly tough defeat. Alex pulls up in his whip for their Sunday visit to Dairy Queen (a dietary indulgence that each man can afford once a week at most).
"I'm am sorry Donovan," says Alex. "That was a truly heartbreaker."
"Thanks, man," Donovan replies. Then: "Oh SHIT! I had to pay the pool guy to fish out that dead squirrel right before the game, I'm out of cash!"
Suddenly, like a lightbulb: "Capital One Bank," says Alex. "They're everwhere."
"Oh man, you're right Ovie!" Donovan is effervescent. "When we get to DQ, I'm treating you to a chili dog and a Blizzard!"
CONCEPT 2: Alex is spotting Donovan as he works on his bench press. Donovan finishes his set, grabs a towel.
"Whew!" he exclaims.
"Make sure you always are locking it out," Alex reminds him. "That last set was not looking so good."
Donovan concurs. "You're right man. It's just, I feel like I'm not getting the kind of pump I need from my supplements. I'm worn out lately!"
"I know of a guy," Alex offers. "He is super underground, only having the shit that is not in the Vitamin Shoppes yet. However he is taking cash only."
"Hell man, I don't feel like driving across town to BB&T just to get some cash," Donovan replies.
Alex grabs Donovan by the shirt collar and pulls him Eskimo-kiss close, staring unblinking into his eyes. "Capital One Bank," he hisses. "They're everywhere."
Donovan is nonplussed.
CONCEPT 3: Donovan is trying to book a seat on a flight to Saint-Tropez five minutes before it departs National Airport. His credit card is declined.
"I'm terribly sorry Mr. McNabb," the firm but accommodating young lady at the ticket counter tells him.
"No, no, it's fine," he replies. "Damn! I knew I shouldn't have put all those cases of Orca caviar on that card right before this trip! Orcas don't even lay eggs!"
Almost before he can finish the sentence, an enormous hirsute hand floats before his face, clutching a freshly minted American Express black card, issued by...
"Capital One Bank," says Alex. "They're everywhere."
"Alex!" Donovan exclaims, dumbfounded. "You're a lifesaver! But aren't you supposed to be playing a game right now?"
"Yes." Alex gestures to a nearby airport bar, which is broadcasting a live feed of a Caps-Sharks game in the first period. Alex has already scored twice and is attempting a penalty shot.
"Woooowww," Donovan says. "You really are something else, man!"
If you're ever at a loss as to what to make the premise of your latest rom com, just remember you always have "assuming custody of your dead friend/sibling's child" to go to in a pinch.
