Part One Here:
And if you are new here, ya might wanna start here: Shonnie.
So there I was in a foreign bed with a foreign woman who called herself “Layla”, smelling bacon and no way to escape, save for a walk-about or a taxi, which I suspected were too damn hard to find in IB (or wherever I was) at such an early hour.
“So,” I said. “Shall we head on to the breakfast nook?”
“Sure Cowboy,” she said.
“I really wish you’d stop calling me that.”
“‘Cowboy.’ Cowboy, I ain’t. ‘Sailor’ is more to the point. And it suits me now.”
“OK, ‘Sailor.’ No worries.”
“Fine. And thank you.” (I was approaching ‘pissy’ at this moment, the booze having worn off. And hung-over kicking in.)
We went to the ‘breakfast table’ and I discovered that there were two children in the house.
“Who’s kids?” I asked. (I just had to)
“Mine!” said the breakfast launcher.
“Cute, they are,” I said stupidly.
“Yeah,” said Mother.
“Please pass me a bloody Mary,” I said back, not wanting to converse.
“There ya go, Sailor-Man,” she (momma) said.
(A kindred spirit?)
“Thanks, I have a bit of a headache”
“Of course,” she said, passing me the pitcher of Bloody Mary’s.
What am I in for? I remember asking me. (Maybe out – loud)
“We are going to the San Diego Zoo.” You wanna tag along?”
“Why not?” I rhetorically answered. “Why not? The kids coming? Of course they are….”
And off we went. (After breakfast)
And good, I thought: Y’all can park me at the petting zoo…