A Craig's List Tale

Jessie, my hairdresser, and her husband decided to sell their old 36" T.V.   It had been sitting in a corner of their bedroom, unplugged and useless after it had been replaced by a new 60" flat screen on the wall.

"Why don't we list the old one on Craig's List?" Jessie said to Buck.

"You'd better mention in the ad that it weighs a ton and it's bulky.  Whoever picks it up will need a truck."

"OK.  I'll ask $50 and see what happens."

Within 48 hours, Jessie had a response.  Howie said he was willing to pay the full amount and would come over to get it the next day after work.

"You'd better bring someone with you," Jessie said.  "The thing weighs a ton and you won't be able to lift it yourself.  Be sure to have a truck."

On the day of the transfer, Howie showed up alone.  With a pickup...that spilled tables, chairs, mirrors, and shelving over the sides.  Two ropes ran around the sides of the stuff to hold it in place.

"Where are you going with that?" Jessie said to Howie.

"Over to my consignment shop."

"Well, there's no room for the T.V. and besides, who's going to lift it with you?"

Just then Buck came outside.  "How about him?" Howie said.

Buck's truck was parked in their driveway, so there was no denying adequate transportation was available.  "Let's just get it out of here and be done with it," Buck whispered to Jessie.  "I'll pull my truck up to the front door."

The three of them went inside, where Jessie, Buck, and the two girls had positioned the T.V. for take-off.  Howie got under one end and Buck under the other.  "You'll have to rotate sideways to get through the door," Buck warned.

Howie rotated two steps and caught the loose sole of his shoe on the small rug in the center of the hall. The T.V. listed to the side and Howie listed with it, toppling onto the hardwood as the T.V. hit the rug with a soft thud.  A piece of the brown plastic frame broke off and sat next to him.

"Holy crap!  What happened?"

"I'm OK."

"Well, you're going to have to take it as it," Buck said.  "We told you to bring someone with you!"

"I'll still take it."  Howie got up while Buck examined the hardwood.  Both of them wedged their fingers under the console again and began to maneuver sideways.

"Two steps down," Buck warned, leading the way.  Howie made it down the first step but after the second step something blocked his way.  It was one of the white columns that adorned the front porch.  Howie had walked right into it, still holding his end.

"Damn!  What happened?"  Buck yelled, putting the T.V. down again to examine the damage.  Howie put his end down, too.  "That's going to cost you!"

"Yeah, how much?"

Buck examined the chunk out of the column.  It would probably take a trip to Home Depot and thirty minutes to repair.  "One hundred bucks!"

"Alright, alright.  Let's go."

Together they pushed one end of the T.V. up a ramp Buck had attached to the flatbed of the pickup.  He wrapped blankets around the T.V. and tied ropes to cleats inside the truck.

"Where we going, anyway?"

"Over the railroad to the other side of town," said Howie, plopping three fifty dollar bills in Buck's hand.

"Call me in thirty minutes if you don't hear from me," Buck said to Jessie, sliding his cell phone into his pocket and giving her a quick kiss.

The two trucks backed out of the driveway with Howie in the lead.

Twenty minutes later, Jessie got a call.  "Honey, you're not going to believe this, but I'm on 17th Street on the west side and my truck broke down."

"Oh my God!  Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine.  Howie's shop is somewhere around here, but everything's boarded up and I'm going to need a tow.  I called AAA."

"Where's Howie?"

"He's right here, guarding his property.  Some friends of his are coming to get the T.V.  Call me every ten minutes."

Buck made it home safely two hours later with a new carburetor in the truck.  "Don't ever mention 'Craig's List' to me again!" he told Jessie.

A Bedroom Scene

     Frank is ninety-five.
     Rita is eighty-eight.

     Frank and Rita and their spouses were best friends.  They all immigrated from various regions of Italy and ended up within five miles of each other in Florida.  Every Sunday after mass they went to breakfast together. They alternated Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter holidays at each other's homes, and visited each other's relatives.
     Frank still drove.  After his wife, Maria, and Rita's husband, Tony, passed away, Frank stopped by every day to visit.  He changed light bulbs, tightened screws, and took Rita for groceries or appointments. Every Saturday he delivered her to the hairdresser and picked her up afterward for a matinee and early dinner.  On Sunday after mass and breakfast, they visited Perpetual Gardens Mortuary, where Maria lay on a slab directly above Tony.
     Five years after Maria had passed and nine months after Tony had passed, Frank put his house on the market and moved into the guest room at Rita's.

     Frank (his first night in the guest room):  Rita, I can't find my glasses.
     Rita (in her bedroom):  Look on the kitchen table.
     Frank:  Where?  I can't hear.  I took my hearing aides out.
     Rita (louder):  In the kitchen.  Put your ears in.
     Fran (with loud squeal from his hearing aides):  OK.  Where the hell is the light switch?
     Rita:  Next to the phone.
     Frank (fumbling):   There they are!  When should I shower?
     Rita:  When you want.
     Frank:  There's no shower in my bathroom.  Now or in the morning?
     Rita:  In the morning.
     Frank:  Do you eat, then shower, or shower first?
     Rita:  Do what you want.  I have coffee, juice, Italian bread toasted.
     Frank:  I always have oatmeal with bananas.
     Rita:  Too bad.
     Frank:  What?
     Rita:  Never mind.
     Frank:  What can I put my dentures in?
     Rita:  A glass from the kitchen.
     Frank:  I'll get it.  I forgot my Polident.  You got any left from Tony?
     Rita:  It's in my bathroom under the sink.
     Frank:  OK.  What time you get up?
     Rita:  Seven o'clock.
     Frank:  Seven o'clock?  Why so early?
     Rita:  I say the rosary.  Sleep, if you want.
     Frank:  Yeah, I don't say the rosary.
     Rita:  Do what you want.
     Frank:  Can I come in for the Polident?
     Rita:  There's no-thing exciting here.
     Frank (going through Rita's bedroom to her bathroom):  I heard on TV Dentu-
               cream poisons people.  You might find me dead on the floor.
     Rita:  You no wear them enough to get poison.    If I find you dead, I scream for
              Dolores (next door).
     Frank:  Call 9-1-1 after you scream.
     Rita:  You check the stove?
     Frank:  Why should I?
     Rita:  I check at night to make sure no gas.
     Frank:  We had cold sandwiches tonight.
     Rita:  Oh, yeah.  You check the front door?
     Frank:  I locked it myself.
     Rita:  Then go to bed.
     Frank:  I'm trying.  Night, Rita.
     Rita:  Good night, Tony.  I mean Franco.