For the new readers of this missive who may be out there, you must understand that almost half of nearly everything in it is nearly 50% almost half-truth, while some very small portions of it may be "made-up", or embellished half truths. This reporter will observe the patrons and staff , and relate to any and everyone who can read what goes on in and around the Rendon Cafe. If any patrons and/or staff members don't do or say anything worth writing about thinking they will escape being featured in this newsletter, I will "embellish" something that COULD HAVE BEEN done or said, so the 4 readers of this paper won't be deprived of what MIGHT have been done or said by other customers.
Awhile back, Chester was waving his arms around wildly, and if there had been music, one might have thought Chester was dancing. Of course he had no partner, as Sally had slunk down in her seat and had her head under her arm, but one never really knows if some of today's music requires a partner, so I inquired of Pat if she might hazard a guess at what Chester might be doing. Her best guess was that he was practicing Karate, but as it turns out, there were some flies having a party in an old Jim Beam bottle in the dumpster out back, and one of them had wandered inside, and Chester was seeing how many times he could swing at a drunk fly in mid-flight without hitting it.
Pat asked Sharon (her mother) if she was ready to order, or did she want to wait for the yapper? Not knowing any better, I asked her what a yapper was. She blushed red and mumbled something about me minding my own damn business as she walked away. While I was scratching my head, Sharon said Pat sometimes refers to her father as a yapper. Now I need to figure out if I should refer to him as Yapper Jim, or the more formal Yapper James, or the really formal Mr. Yapper Eller.
The other evening Linda and I were walking across the parking lot to the cafe, when I noticed Darlene doing a rather complicated step that looked like it needed music. When I asked her what it was, she said: "Rocks, and REALLY thin soled shoes".
James and Carol were sprucing up the place the other day, and James leaned a bit too far to one side and fell off the ladder. Fortunately he didn't do too much damage to himself, bruised some ribs, hurt his arm, elbow, wrist, hand, knee on one leg and ankle on the other, skinned up some places, put a knot on his head, and said he might have been seriously hurt if he hadn't slowed down part way down to light a cigarette. Seems he can only fly when he is in costume.
Some of you may know that Curtis and I have a liking for the same table. I claim it is my table, Curtis claims it is his table, so we decided that whoever gets there first gets the table. That would work out really well except that Curtis likes a chair with arms, while I must have a "gunfighter" chair without arms. Whoever gets there first has to do the chair shuffle, and I suspect that when Curtis has claimed and sat at the table, and when I am gone, he takes the chair I like and moves it all the way to one end of the building or the other. Of course I cannot prove that, just as Curtis cannot prove that I put my chair (while doing the shuffle) on his foot and sat down in it on
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Purpose.
The pot-luck supper the other night was a big success. 72 people signed up, and 63 of them got there. Jim cooked a flock of turkeys, Carol and James brought the ham, Mrs. Reid provided the cornbread dressing, and Raymond brought enough soft drinks to fill a pool, in case someone was "into" taking a moonlight dip in carbonation. There were too many other people and dishes to mention, but I took a lot of pictures that night, and as soon as I get my instructions from my computer guru lady on how to do it, those pictures will show up on Facebook. (On Facebook, look for Burcon Thomas)
Chester, Jim, and James came to my place the other day to pick up a frame for a large sign for the cafe. The sign I had on it had said: "Abandon Hope, All Ye Who Enter Here. Beyond This Place, There Be Dragons." which would be totally innappropriate for the cafe, for many reasons, not the least of which is Carol flatly refuses to grill, fricassee, fry, bake. roast, broil, steam, or serve raw any kind of Dragon of any description, size, or sex. Jim (Darlenes husband) said that Dragon would probably make a really, really good meat loaf, but Carol was adamant. She'll probably put up a sign saying: "No Dragon served here". Then PETA will probably jump on her saying that is highly discriminatory against Dragons.
Carol has provided a plethora of pies lately, and someone must have made some comment or other, because Carol put a notice on the blackboard that: "Pi R round. Not square. Of course she used the Pi symbol, a circle, and a square to make her point, but the makers of typewriters and computer keyboards have thoughtfully left those symbols off these machines so we cannot be as eloquent as Carol was. But I did tell her there is absolutely nothing to stop her from serving a banana cream pie in a square format. Or 2 inches by 6 inches by 10 inches deep for that matter. Of course that will make it very difficult to serve one slice of pie sitting upright on the plate.
Gemini Man
Copyright 2010
http://geminiauthor.blogspot.com
