April 2008


Alone now in the desert, I had two choices, so I reverted to an ancient sherpa decision-making tool for help.  Heads, I carry on through the desert living by my sherpa wits, sleeping under abandoned armadillo shells, eating sand beetles and drinking my own pee; or tails, I grit my teeth and make camp in Vegas.

Four out of seven flips later, I found myself checking into the Four Queens Hotel, and who should I run into at the elevators, but Empty Shell with a stunningly well-dressed young man.  The inscrutable Richard, I presumed.

 My presumption was correct. They’d just gotten married!

 “Isn’t it super?” gushed Shell, “I’m sooooo happy and so is Daddy and Vegas is totally so pimp and shiny and loud and fun!!!”

 I congratulated them and warned them affectionately (though admittedly not without a soupçon of gut-souring envy) not to gamble away all their fabulously excessive combined wealth.

 “Oh no,” said Shell, “We’re not gambling!  We only came to Vegas because Richard liked the idea of getting married in a super kitchy place. Vegas is going to be so much fun. I did buckets of research before. We’re only staying four days so we’re really going to take advantage of ourselves while we’re here.”

“Do you have a plan, or are you just going to play it by ear?” I asked.

 “As soon as we get our barrings we’re going to do heaps of site seeing on one side of the road, and then heaps of site seeing on the other side of the road,” replied Shell enthusiastically, “but absolutely no gambling unless we happen to stumble upon a casino.”

And off they stumbled, happily ever after.

Ta-ta S&R!

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I won’t bore you with the details of my truly inspired detective work which led me to the deserts of Northern California.

 It was there that I spotted the luscious Shagatha, clad only in slinky battle fatigues, her trusty personal assistant at her side, dragging an arsenal of weapons of mass destruction in a handsome ostrich leather golf bag.

I blinked and rubbed my eyes. I pinched myself. Was I being tormented by yet another of my nocturnal transmissions? Was this another nightmare? Was it a mirage?

 Unfortunately no.  With my own sharp sherpa eyes I witnessed this spectacle in the deserts of Northern California.

 “SHAGATHA!” I hollered. She turned, her face set with harsh determination; her eyes mere slits, her mouth set in a grim line.

 “Don’t try to stop me!” she yelled back and marched on.

 I trotted behind, trying desperately to keep up, and managed a few words with PA before they both disappeared in a cloud of sand.

Oprah goin' down And so it was that I learned that Shagatha is devoting the rest of her life to waging war on Oprah’s Big Mouth  Ass  Head Give.

  “Shagatha says this abomination against humanity must be brought to its knees,” whispered PA importantly, “Shagatha says Oprah goin’ down.”

 Farewell sweet Shaggie and godspeed. If anyone can bring Oprah down, I do believe it’s you.

I take it you guys aren’t the guessing types. Fine, I’ll just tell you what I found in the alley.

I found Chaisey back there. She was naked and screaming. She wasn’t alone either – Round Booth was with her.

Mama always told me that chivalry was next to curiosity, so I dropped the body and jumped Round Booth.

“You bastard!” I yelled, “Leave her alone, you uncouth booth!”

“You idiot!” yelled Chaisey, “Get off of him, you fried guide!”

“You don’t want my help?” I asked helplessly.

“I’m in labour!” she yelled, grimacing.

OMG.

I’m going to make a long story short and just say that Chaisey gave birth to a giant stool. Mother, Father and Stool are all doing fine.

I smoked a cigar and hit the road because my work wasn’t done: I still had to find Fox, Third Elf, Shagatha, The Autonomous Eye, and Empty Shell. I had miles to go before I could sleep.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Let’s face it – I’m a sherpa, not a detective. But Mama always said curiosity was next to courtesy and I was very curious about what fate had befallen my new friends. I might not be a detective, but I was prepared to turn over every last stone in my quest for the truth.

 It occurred to me that Round Booth’s disappearance was connected somehow to the disappearance of  the BSIs, so I decided to start my search with him.

 “Excuse me ma’am,” I said to a passer-by who was passing by, “have you seen a round red booth around here anywhere?”

 She scowled at me and kept walking.

 I don’t know how Canadians got the reputation for being so polite.

 “Excuse me Sir,” I said to a man, “Have you seen a round red booth around here anywhere?”

 “What did he look like?” asked the man.

 “He was round,” I replied, “and red.”

 “How tall?” asked the man.

 “About 4 and a half feet,” I replied.

 “Any distinguishing marks? Scars, rips, tears, repairs, tattoos?”

 “I don’t know,” I admitted, “I didn’t know him that well.”

 “How much did he weigh?” asked the man, “Did he walk with a limp? What languages did he speak? How old was he? Who were his friends?”

 “What are you, a fucking detective??” I asked.

 I took off down Bank Street with the intrusive little man hot on my heels, peppering me with a relentless barrage of questions.

 “What’s his birthdate? Has he ever been married? Where does he bank? Has he ever had cosmetic surgery?”

 Finally I couldn’t take it anymore. I turned around and shot him once between the eyes.

 Several passers-by gasped and stared at me in horror.

 “What are you looking at?” I demanded, “You’d have done the same thing!”

 Then I dragged his body into the alleyway behind Sugar Mountain.

 You’ll never guess what I found back there. Go ahead, try to guess.

 

 

 

Where: The Usual Spot
When: Saturday at noon sharp
Who: Sherpa Joe

 

Sherpa Joe here. This is a difficult post for me to write but it’s a story that needs to be told.

Over the months I’ve grown kinda fond of that motley crew that call themselves the Bank Street Irregulars. Oh yeah, I know, we had a falling out over the whole boot camp thing for the Elgin Street Expedition, but it was only because I gave a good goddamm about them and wanted them to be the very best they could be.

But I should have seen they weren’t ready. I pushed them too hard. I regret that.

After that whole fiasco, I drank myself into a Jack Daniels stupor for awhile. It took about a week for me to hit rock bottom. I guess you could say I didn’t have far to fall.

I lost everything:  my job, my room, my cat, some dame, my self respect. There’s nothing more pathetic than a sherpa who’s lost his bearings. That was me.

But you can’t dwell on your mistakes forever. Eventually you just have to pick up the pieces and move on, which is what I did.  I was a man on a mission. I sobered up that Sunday and finished the twelfth step on Tuesday afternoon.

Ever since then, I’ve been working on slowly rebuilding my life and regaining the trust of the BSIs, in the hopes that they might someday give me a second chance, and let me take them to the Tally-Ho Tavern and maybe eventually we could all climb Nanny Goat Hill together. Everybody needs a dream to cling to, and that’s mine.

We’re still a long way from that, but we’re making progress and that’s good enough for me.

That’s why I was happy to see a note in my inbox a few days ago inviting me to their next Emergency Meeting, today at noon in the round booth at the Usual Spot.

I showed up at 12:00 on the dot because Mama always said punctuality was next to cleanliness. I headed straight for the round booth and then drew back sharply in my tracks. Where there used to be a round red booth, now there was just a gaping hole. I stood there gaping at the gaping hole. The gaping hole gaped back at me.

A waitress floated by, like a butterfly on a gentle breeze.

“Excuse me ma’am,” I said, tipping my hat because Mama always said courtesy was next to punctuality, “but where is the round booth?”

“Oh, that,” she said, “It just vanished overnight. But don’t worry. I can seat you at another table. How about something outside on the patio?”

 I settled for that, knowing I could keep an eye on the door and catch the others as they arrived. I was a little worried about Chaisey – I don’t know what she sees in him, but she’s got it bad for that round booth. She wasn’t going to be happy to learn he’d flown the coop. I was glad I was there for her, though, if only to lend a shoulder to cry on when she came face to face with that gaping hole.

I ordered a beer and checked my watch. 12:10. Still no sign of the BSIs.

By 2:00 pm I was half in the bag and I knew they weren’t coming. I had a bad taste in my mouth, and an even badder feeling in my gut.

Something wasn’t adding up, and the more I thought about it, the more the whole thing stunk of foul play to me.

I paid my bill, tipped my hat back on my head, rubbed the stubble on my square jaw, and stepped out onto Bank Street.

My investigation began there.

[to be continued]

Chaisey said we better start kitty-blogging if we want anybody to read our blog.

The Fox and the Cat

Aesop’s Fables

 

A Fox was boasting to a Cat of its clever devices for escaping its enemies. “I have a whole bag of tricks,” he said, “which contains a hundred ways of escaping my enemies.”

“I have only one,” said the Cat; “but I can generally manage with that.”

Just at that moment they heard the cry of a pack of hounds coming towards them, and the Cat immediately scampered up a tree and hid herself in the boughs. “This is my plan,” said the Cat. “What are you going to do?”

The Fox thought first of one way, then of another, and while he was debating the hounds came nearer and nearer, and at last the Fox in his confusion was caught up by the hounds and soon killed by the huntsmen.

Miss Puss, who had been looking on, said:

“Better one safe way than a hundred on which you cannot reckon.”


(So what would the cat do if it was indoors and it couldn’t find a tree? Answer me that Mr smart-ass Aesop and your stupid cat.)

The real moral is, cats only have one trick and they won’t even help out their friend the fox when he gets in trouble with some hounds.

So don’t get a cat. Not even a dog-cat. Get a fox. Foxes are very friendly and affectionate.

Foxes are smart and they have a lot of tricks even if sometimes they can’t think of one fast enough and they might get in trouble with some hounds.

And don’t let a pack of hounds and a bunch of huntsmen into your house because the cat won’t be able to find a tree. Unless you don’t like your cat very much, as I don’t, and in that case you might as well let them in. The fox will probably think of something.

I was crying when the fox got torn to bits by the huntsmen. And I can’t stand that smart-ass Miss Puss.

Did I mention that I hate this one? I hate this one! Don’t ask me to do it anymore Chaisey, ok?

So, if you don’t know, in 2005,  I graduated from Madame Viviane’s school in Switzerland, one of the things we had to do was make a resume and send it out to actual job places. Of course then I never really wanted a job, but lately I was getting kind of bored of shopping and stuff and all the people I respect, like, have jobs, so in my head I started to wonder if maybe I should get a job, you know? Does that ever happen to you?

And then the most weirdest thing ever happened!  It was like fate or something, but a couple of weeks ago I get a call from this government place where I had sent my resume just before I graduated and they said they had “processed” my application and could I come in for an interview? So, okay I went and everything and they asked me some stuff, but I didn’t know what they were talking about, but then they asked me could I speak French and I said, “sure”, so I got the job!!!  Yipeeeeee!!!! Can you believe it?

So, okay, I started working on March 17th  which was super-cool because right away I get a 4-day weekend.  And, I’m a manager of something (I forget the exact name). Isn’t that just totally awesome? Daddy was totally shocked when I told him!!  I get a pretty nice office and an “administrative assistant”, which I think is like a secretary, except she’s a boy and super-cute. (His name is Jean-Louis)  The only problem was my computer ‘cause it’s soooooo totally old. I bought my own, but then all the government stuff wouldn’t work on it, so I had to go back to the old one, but so far I haven’t had to do anything with it anyway except answer a few emails from my friends (who are totally jealous of my job, by the way).

So far I’ve filled out a super huge bunch of forms (On paper!!! With a pen!!!) about my name and address.  I mentioned they already had all that stuff from my resume, but they just looked at me funny. It’s kind of boring to do all those forms, so I got Jean-Louis to do them.

Then some guy came to see me and I know it sounds super weird, but I think he said his name was “Pee-Sack”??? Does that make any sense? Anyhow, he tried to get me to join some club called Union or something, but I tried to politely decline because I’m already pretty busy at the country club and they wouldn’t like it if I joined somewhere else.  But then the guy said I had to join and I had to pay dues, like every month!!! And he got kind of mean about it when I kept saying no thank-you. And then I started to cry a little because he was sort of smelly from cigarettes and had a long grey pony-tail and a really horrible outfit (saggy jeans and a kind of old, old t-shirt) and he was really starting to scare me.

Then he gave me more papers and told me I’d better fill them out and sign them and join his union club or I’d never have any way of knowing when I was unhappy with my job and I wouldn’t be allowed to go along every three years when all my coworkers stood around in front of the building with picnic signs smoking and yelling at kids and old ladies who walked by.

The whole thing was super HORRIBLE!!!!!  I got Jean-Louis to call Daddy right away and our lawyer came over and wrote a letter for me to send to that awful Pee-Sack man and so I don’t have to join his club.  Phew! Can you imagine?

So anyway, the rest of work is super fun. Every day we find some nice places to go for coffee in the mornings and a bunch of us girls (and Jean-Louis) are finding all sorts of super fabulous little places to go for lunch.  After, we shop for a while and then… back to work we go!!

Sometimes we have meetings and someone else’s administrative assistant writes down everything that happens and everything that everybody says and then sends it to us later and it’s so much fun because it’s like a little book and I’m in it!!!

So, I hope you all have super tons of fun at your jobs, too!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!