Monday, November 10, 2008

Merle

"Oh, what is it? What is it?!" she wailed.

"What is what?" I asked.

"I can't remember the name of it. Chateau Poo-poo. That wine? The one I want it was right here. Where is it? I just saw it."

"Poujeaux? Pommerol? Petrus?"

"NO! The one I found. The one for my lawyer. I just finished physical therapy. I'm so tired."

"I can imagine."

"They make me do the eliptical."

"Even I hate the eliptical. Good for you."

"Chateau-poo-poo pants?"

"Oh, the Chateauneuf-du-Pape from last time?"

"Yes! Why are you hiding it from me?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. It's right over here. Let me hold your bags."

"You're so good to me. When are you going to marry your boyfriend?"

"Maybe next year. We want to buy a house first."

"You know Harold married me after three months. We were dating and he said 'That's it. We're getting married or it's over.'"

"He must have loved you instantly."

"Oh, he did. You know he's dead now."

"Yes, I know."

"I have his wines. I should put them up for auction. I really should. I don't know what he would want me to do with them."

"I think you should do whatever you want with them."

"Maybe I'll give them to my son. I think I'll leave now. You don't want an old lady ruining your day."

"No, you're no trouble at all."

"No, I'll leave. I'm tired. Walk me to my car. I'm so cold."

"Of course."