I strolled into Radio Room after a 12 mile urban waddle and settled into my usual stool. "Howzit, Jack?" "Good, Bar-Am, but I could use a little alone time, if you get my drift..." I couldn't miss the semi-hurt look on her kisser as she hopped down the bar with a pint of the good stuff. "Well, OK, I know where I'm..." I gave s shrug towards the good Professor's tap-cam. She gave me a wink and said, "You know, Agnes left one of her caps here and I need to hang it up where she can see it." Agnes is Aniela D'Ignacio--that's Angel of Fire in eye-talian, or eh-talian, as Dolly-girl would say--and she's one of the listen-to-what-she-says people around Radio Room. She's always got a nickel's worth of free advice (© Principal Strickland, Back to the Future, 1985) and it's good to listen to her. She's got her index digit on the pulse of Portlandia (© Raymond Kaskey, artist of the second-largest copper repoussé statue in the United States.) Bar-Am flipped the cap over a handle that was never pulled and gave me a nod. So that's where that cam is. "You know, Bar-Am..." She gave me the high sign so I shut my trap. She reached behind the bottle of Bulleit Bourbon Frontier Whiskey (©2009 Bulleit Distilling Company, Lawrenceburg, KY) and unplugged a hidden microphone. "OK, Jack. Good to go." "Roger, Bar-Am."© Someone else as I copied it off Wikipedia
"I don't really need alone time, I just don't want to be talking to Professor Javier Boleyn today, of all days." "That 'cause of The Rapture, Jack 'cause I don't think it's gonna happen." "Naw, it's because today, after 293 days of the 2-Step Duh! Diet (© Boleyn Enterprises), I jumped on the scale and saw that I have lost 2 entire pails of LARD! Yep, 50 pounds of the stuff. Two-point-seven-three ounces per day for 293 days. I just want a day to not make a big deal of it and to not have him telling me 'It's not over Jackie-boy. You are still classified as 'overweight, just 0.6 BMI below OBESE'. You need to keep at it, Jackie-boy...' I just don't need that today. I don't need to be reminded that I still am a Sus scrofa domesticus over stocked with sub-cutaneous fat." "Jack, you got such a way with words. You mean you're still a fat hog!" I gave her a scowl. "More like 'still a LARD!-ass', Bar-Am."© Someone else as I copied it off Wikipedia
"On it, Jack. You won't get it from me. Even though I am in league with Professor Boleyn, and of course, I have never had a weight problem myself as I most closely resemble a soda straw--a flex-straw, at that--I can appreciate that you just might want to sit here and have a beer..." "Or two..." "Or two--I could do that--and take a little pride in winning the War on LARD!© Armour Star, no doubt
"Bar-Am, if it were only that easy. I've been fighting this battle for 45 years. The Battle of '67, the Skirmish of '79, the Conflict of '00, and now the War on LARD!--the mother of all Wars on LARD!" "What happened between '79 and '01 there Jack? Seems you skipped a beat." "Ah yes. You know, the usual, kids, tenure, divorce, hot, young girl friends. It all kept me fit. But, after I fell head-over-tea-cups for Fiora and accepted that she cottoned to me too, then it was down that slippery slope that is coated with the stuff--a different sorta Armour-all. Two-point-seven-three ounces per day goes on a lot easier and more pleasurably than it comes off." "I can imagine..." I knew she couldn't.
I hoisted the second beer just about the time my blower sparked. "That will be the Professor. Yallow. D'Mestiere Investigations." "Jackie-boy, is that you? The satellite cluster seems to be malfunctioning. Where are you?" "Radio Room, Professor. Having a second beer." "Is Bar-Am there?" "She gave her head a shake and I covered. "Nope. Substitute. She took the day off in case The Rapture was real." "Jack." His voice went to that deep place. "Jack, I've been trying to contact you all day to extend my congratulations. I was with another client this morning, but I reviewed the ScalE-mail (© Boleyn Enterprises) and see that you have reached a milestone. I offer my hearty, 'Well-done', but..." "Scratch, scritch...I think I'm losing you there, Professor.." "remember..." "...can't hear you...click. Lost him I guess. Damn Verizon." I flicked the blower to off. Bar-Am smiled and said, "This one's for you, Jack!"Seriously, I do thank my talismans, Bill Clinton and Bill Nighy, my personal trainer, James Wimbish of Bo Weivel Lawn Maintenance, Bar-Am, Aniela D'Ignacio, and all the fun people at Radio Room who give me a place to walk to, Professor Javier Boleyn who, in real life, told me to eat less and move more, and Fiora D'Mestiere, the girl of my dreams.
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