flight of the iguana
Midnight at the old chateau.
Behold the mighty Heelers.
He is flumped in front of his computer.
In six hours he is due on a plane to the United States of America.
No point in being a genius if you don't spread it around a little, thinks he.
But look at him.
He does not look happy.
He looks like a Heelers who must somehow magic up a page of newspaper stories before the night is out along with a page of photos or else he cannot go on his transatlantic odyssey.
He looks like a Heelers who has not the least chance of doing so.
He looks like a Heelers, in short, who is on the brink of despair.
And lo!
At his shoulder appears Petal.
Petal is the artist formerly known as my Yogic sister Marie.
Petal says: "Could you put a few of these photos in the paper this week?"
She spreads an array of photos from the recent Kilkea fashion show on the table.
"And I have a few stories about the golf club I want you to write for me," she adds. "They're typed out here," nonchalantly producing a sheaf of papers.
She pauses.
Pause finished.
Petal produces an envelope.
"I know you're going to America in the morning," she says. "I want you to have this."
The envelope contains a fat wodge of American dollars.
A fat wodge.
My favourite sort of wodge.
For a moment Heelers is too moved to talk.
It's a Christmas miracle.
Behold the mighty Heelers.
He is flumped in front of his computer.
In six hours he is due on a plane to the United States of America.
No point in being a genius if you don't spread it around a little, thinks he.
But look at him.
He does not look happy.
He looks like a Heelers who must somehow magic up a page of newspaper stories before the night is out along with a page of photos or else he cannot go on his transatlantic odyssey.
He looks like a Heelers who has not the least chance of doing so.
He looks like a Heelers, in short, who is on the brink of despair.
And lo!
At his shoulder appears Petal.
Petal is the artist formerly known as my Yogic sister Marie.
Petal says: "Could you put a few of these photos in the paper this week?"
She spreads an array of photos from the recent Kilkea fashion show on the table.
"And I have a few stories about the golf club I want you to write for me," she adds. "They're typed out here," nonchalantly producing a sheaf of papers.
She pauses.
Pause finished.
Petal produces an envelope.
"I know you're going to America in the morning," she says. "I want you to have this."
The envelope contains a fat wodge of American dollars.
A fat wodge.
My favourite sort of wodge.
For a moment Heelers is too moved to talk.
It's a Christmas miracle.
posted by heelers | 12:39 AM
4 Comments:
Wow, what a great sister! I hope you have a great time in the States, and that all goes well with your business.
Gute Reise James! Why weren't we told about this ahead of time? When can we expect normal service to be resumed?
Rumor has it that you witnessed a bigger phenomenon then a u.f.o. while you were stateside. I believe scholars, politicians and members of the media commonly refer to it as Global Warming. Sadly, it was alive and well in Massachusetts for the month of November and the first two days of December. I can't remember the last time there was no snow in Boston until after the month November! Despite the weird weather, I hope you enjoyed your stay in Beantown. And as my late Uncle Ken used to say, "Hasta La Vista."
All the best,
Sir Anonymous
Gen, the living was easy!
Schnee, just remember you asked for it!
Sir A, I'm home two hours and missing it already!
James
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