Chapter 26

Cora

At the Best Western in Callicoon, New York, Chuck and I had a Mom-Son talk. I had in mind a how to keep your girlfriend out of the family condition and still keep her satisfied chat. I intended to make it an illustrated discussion. Somehow ... it didn’t quite work out like I had planned.

“Chuck. We need to talk.”

“Gosh, mom. We’re not even going steady,” he said. “You want to break up?”

Since I ... we ... were on the beginning of the down side of up ... that slippery slope that usually ends with a nap ... Chuck’s comment struck my funny bone ... hard.

After I was in control ... they idea of which caused me to relapse into laughter ... again. I do admit I saw the ridiculous side of the condition. That caused the loss of any semblance of control ... again.

I grabbed a handful of crushed chips from the blue bowl ... it wasn’t Tom’s but they were good enough. My mouth blossomed with the flavors of sour cream, onion, nacho cheese, cheddar, greasy potatoes, baked chips, tortillas, lime, lemon salt, pork rinds, corn chips, vinegar ... every kind of chips ... except barbecue ... I hate barbecue flavoring ... took a swig of my Orange Crush ... the best orange pop ... and tried again.

I mumbled through the chips, “I want to talk to you about sex.”

“What do you want to know?” Funny, he understood me perfectly. I didn’t understand what I had said, but Chuck did.

Chuck was immediately coated with chips and orange soda. Passing through the nostrils at high speed, those little bitty chip fragments hurt.

And they are sharp. Chuck used half a roll of toilet paper controlling the bleeding.

When we resumed our decorum, I was sitting cross legged on the bed. I had a pair of red tinged and rolled toilet paper wads protruding from my nostrils ... one per side.

Show and Tell had yet to begin when there was a sharp rap on the door. Chuck jumped up and looked out the peephole.

“It’s the cops,” he said.

Before I said, “Well ... let them in.” I took out my money book ... the little book I recorded my cash expenditures in.

Chuck opened the door.

“I can only assume you fellas are here about the pizza.”

“Yes, Al says you didn’t pay.”

“Is there an officer at Al’s?”

“Yes,” the older cop said.

“Ask him to check the cash drawer for a twenty dollar bill with the numbers...” and I read then off from my little book.

The older cop wrote the numbers down and went to his car to call.

The younger cop was posturing.

The older cop came up to the room. “How did you know?”

So ... I explained about my cash book.

“I see,” said the older guy.

“Has Al done this before?”

“Once or twice,” he said. “A week.”

“Very likely, Al has been lying to the cops and making false reports for years. You don’t want me to retain an attorney over this. It will look very badly and reflect on the integrity of the force and the town.”

The young cop was still posturing.

“Jimmy, quit it. Al has been lying.

“Sorry, ma’am. Have a nice day.”

Jimmy was arguing all the way down the stairs.

“So, Chuck. Where were we?” I took a big swig of Orange Crush.

“I was going to answer your questions about sex.

“Gees, twice in one afternoon. I need a shower.”