Black Pumps to Rotting Stumps Part 2 – Pie Near Gets a Phone Call!
It had been another long night of partying with my highschool homeys from Bartlesville High. I had crept home in the wee hours and promptly tried on the Vera Wang in an attempt to soothe the hangover that was due to crash through my head at any moment. But even admiring myself in the vintage silk was not enough to curb the grief that ebbed and flowed out of every pore of my natural red head complexion.
The past four months had been pure hell. My parent’s marriage continued to dismember itself in all night screaming matches in the study, Puggy Sue continued to debone herself in the driveway and I continued to delude myself and everyone else into believing that I was studying for the LSAT. In the meantime, I was still stringing my California college boyfriend along just for the fun of it. Clearly I would never marry him even if I managed to finally guilt him into proposing, but there was immense pleasure in reeling him in, punching him in the gut and then pushing him off the side of the yacht over and over again. Besides! I had met my stallion in a bar in Bartlesville, the answer to all my problems, the tingle to all my hineys, the silver studded lining to all my dreams. He was my steed, my ponyboy, my joyride and my buckin’ bronco billionaire! I had roped, wrangled, tamed, stuffed him with my sweet cherry meats and successfully mounted him! Now all I needed was a phone call from him. Just a little phone call. Why didn’t he call me? Did they not have phones on ranches?
There were other fish in the sea.
Short ones, British ones, gay ones, wealthy lawyer ones, potheads named Walrus, and yes… there was still James beating on the back door of my heart… wanting to know what I was doing… begging me to explain things to him… crying over the phone line… sending me gifts and flowers almost every day… But James just didn’t get it. So what if I flew out to LA and visited him every other weekend? So what – we chatted on the phone all the time? So what I loved his parents and especially their sweet mansion on the bay more n’ my luggage! The point is – if you ‘don’t get it’ – then ‘you just don’t get it!
Besides! What I really wanted to know was…
Why didn’t that cowboy call me?
What was I supposed to do?
That really wasn’t my style.
I needed him to call me, marry me, sire me and get me knocked up quick so I could get OUT of taking the damn LSAT!
If only he would call!
Why didn’t he call!?!
It had been four of the longest months of my LIFE waiting for that damn phone call!
I was tired of pretending to be moving to Chicago!
Tired of lying about my dreams of law school to the entire Country Club!
They knew as well as I did that it was all a big joke!
Everyone knew I was a joke!
“Ree?!?!? Going to Law School?!?!?!?” I heard them snicker behind my back at brunch at the club.
“Pie Near? A Lawyer?” I heard them snort into their crab quiche, lobster rolls and Denver omelette’s.
Why was everyone against me? Why couldn’t they just play along? What had I ever done to them other than be skinnier and prettier and really, really good at ballet?
Suddenly I felt my body reeling into outer-space. I was flailing, flying, twisting, turning. I couldn’t get control of my limbs. All my grief, my yearning, my agony, my anxiety, my dreams, my past and my future hit me like a ton of bricks and I couldn’t stop from heaving myself into the center of my childhood bed and throwing the biggest tantrum of my life! It was a vortex tantrum! It was a the eye of a hurricane tantrum… a cyclops tantrum… an orgasm tantrum!!! I had no idea if I would survive it or not! My legs lashed out! My arms lashed up! My teeth bit deeply into the down feathers of my pillow. “Please” I cried….”PLEASE!!!!!”
Please call me Marlboro Man!
Help me Marlboro Man!
HELP ME TO HELP YOU!
Just dial the damn phone Marlboro Man!
My body cracked and creaked under the strain of my convulsions. My bones popped, my sockets locked. I was poppin’ and lockin’ and no one was talkin’. It was a break dance of doom! Finally, my heel hit me in the back of my head and I temporarily blacked out!
And when I came to….
I was impaled on the roof of my childhood four poster bed.
I couldn’t breathe!
I couldn’t see!
My eyes had grown dim!
My heart beat faint!
My chest was splotchy!
My neck tight!
I couldn’t swallow!
“Mommy! Daddy! Puggy Sue! Consuela! Somebody! Help me!” I screamed.
But my parents couldn’t hear me over the roars of their own screaming match in the study. And Puggy Sue couldn’t hear me because I had smashed her formerly wriggling body into the pavers of my parent’s beautifully landscaped driveway. And Consuela couldn’t hear me because she ignored everything I said unless my mom was standing beside her. So my cries went unheeded. My pain went ignored. I was on fire with the supreme anguish of no one noticing me!
“My life is over!” I cried into the nothingness.
“I will never amount to ANYTHING!
I CAN’T GET A JOB!
NO ONE WANTS TO MARRY ME!
I DON’T WANNA GO TO LAW SCHOOL!!!!!
Nothing in Oklahoma is GLAMOROUS enough FOR ME!
BUT I AM NOT GLAMOROUS ENOUGH FOR CALIFORNIA!
My forehead is too big to be a model!
My voice is too squeaky to be an actress!
I’m too dumb to be a smart person!
I’m too smart to be a dumb person!
I’m perfectly average!
In every way!
EMPHASIS ON PERFECTLY!”
“The only thing I have ever been good at is…
“MAKING STUPID SHIT UP!!!!!!!”
Why can’t that stupid cowboy just CALL ME!
How the hell hard is it for him to CALL ME!
Then I can have his babies and spend his money and lactate all over the internet!”
“Please call me Marlboro Man!
I began to gasp for breath. My extremities turned a startling shade of blue. This is the end I thought, this is how death comes to Pie Near. A sheen of sweat danced across my pale natural red head complexion. Some of my freckles seemed like eyeballs… staring me down… saying goodbye to me… weeping big freckly tears for me… I said goodbye to them too and kissed as many as I could reach and then I closed my eyes and I began to pray my first and final prayer…
Dear God? Are you there? I know I have never paid much attention to you before because why would I? But I have a big favor to ask you now and it just might save my life so I hope you are paying attention. Can you please have that rich cowboy I met four months ago in the bar call me? The one with the seriously nice ass? Is it okay if I say ‘ass’ to you God? And no – I don’t mean ‘ass’ as in a donkey ass in the bible. I mean ‘ass’ as in ‘man ass’. The one you so violently chiseled? Do you remember chiseling that one? Because You were clearly full of the wrath of Yourself when you made it and the violence of that cowboy’s backside makes my hiney tingle extra hard. But it’s not lust God… it’s more like art appreciation! And if you get ‘Mr. Violently Chiseled Ass’ to call ‘Ms Tingly Hiney Bottom’, I would totally donate all my Donna Karan turtlenecks to charity. And all my Ralph Lauren polos! And I will even give away my new $400.00 pea coat from J.Crew! I’ll give it to the first homeless man I see who is approximately my size! And I’ll stop dressing like a hooker when I go to the bars. And I’ll stop making all my old high-school friends jealous of me by always looking better than them. And next time my retarded brother asks me for a ride to the fire station, I will totally give him one. And I will stop using the word retarded when referring to my brother to shock the ever lovin’ hell out of people. And I will never smoke pot again. And I will promptly and cleanly break up with James and stop dragging him around like a half drowned kitten. And I will… I will… Do I seriously have to do more God? Isn’t that enough?
Oh my God!
Did the prayer work?
Thank you GOD!
And by the way God!
I hope you didn’t think I was actually serious about all that stuff I promised!
That was just crazy talk from the midst of deepest darkest desperation!
But I will still give away my turtlenecks!
They are so last season anyway!
Oh My God!
What if it is HIM?
What if it is my silver steed on a shimmering stallion come to save me?
Is that you?
My silver coated silvery, studded, silverado man?”
And that’s when I heard him…
on the other end of the line…
“Heh, heh, heh”
his gravelly masculine voice vibrated through the phone line.
“Hello?” I said, “Is that you Marlboro Man?”
“Heh, heh, heh.”
he repeated sending shivers up and down my spine with his dark husky laugh.
“Marlboro Man?” I asked, “Are you there? Can you hear me? Do we have a bad connection?” But his deep, quiet, denuded, sinister, yet soft voice just kept laughing…”Heh, heh, heh.” over and over again. I didn’t know what to do! Was this some kind of Oklahoma ranching tradition? Is this how cowboys talked to women? Was he mentally ill? Mentally debilitated? Either way – it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he had finally called me and I intended to make the most of it.
“Marlboro Man?” I asked, “You still there?”
“Heh, heh, heh.” he smokily responded.
He was still there.
“I’ve been in California for several years” I tried to explain into the phone line… “and maybe I don’t understand the mating rituals of men who ride cows, but I am going to ask you some questions. Okay?”
“Heh, heh, heh.”
“I will take that for a yes.” I said, “Okay… question number one – do ya think I’m sexy?”
“Heh, heh, heh.”
“That sounds like a yes to me.” I answered him, “Question number two… do ya want my body?”
“Heh, heh, heh.”
“Awesome! We seem to be on the same page! What say you and I hook up tomorrow and talk about our future!?
“Heh, heh, heh”
“Pick me up at seven.” I said, “I live on the golf course. Look for the house with the squashed dog corpse in the driveway.” I explained and then I hung up.
I love a man who takes charge! I thought.
The early morning sunshine streamed across the bedroom of my childhood like a golden bugle shouting my victory!
I glanced at the Vera Wang lying on the floor where I had thrown it after trying it on again earlier that evening. The soft folds, the shimmering fabric, the luxurious lace….
Suddenly I was exhausted! I pulled the wedding gown on top of me and breathed in deeply the fumes of matrimonial blissdom. In a few hours there would be outfits to try on, shoe purchase to make, a massage at the club to demand, Consuela our household illegal to order around, but right now I just needed to get my beauty sleep.
And dream the happy dreams of a girl never going to law school again.
To be continued…