windar
Teller of Tales
Barb looked up from her phone, which she had been scanning for news, texts from friends, videos of cats playing the piano, anything to relieve the sheer boredom of the past four days of their quarantine, mandatory despite their apparent lack of symptoms, due to their recent travel to China and Italy to promote their latest book, “Lady Cop in Prison”.
Stan was staring listlessly at the TV. Even he was too dazed to laugh at the “jokes” and the antics of Jerry, Elaine, George and Kramer. “How many times do you think you’ve seen this ‘Seinfeld’ episode, Goldman?” she asked, adopting the tone of an exasperated mother with a troublesome toddler.
Stan looked over at Barb as she drained her glass of chardonnay. It was the episode, interestingly enough in view of their recent travel, where Jerry, Elaine and George are waiting for a table at their favorite Chinese restaurant before catching a movie and seeing party after party seated ahead of them.
“I dunno, Moore,” he said. “Low triple digits, if I had to guess. We could switch to ‘Law and Order-SVU, if you’d prefer. That Mariska Hargitay is one hot number.” He ducked as Barb tossed a sofa cushion half-heartedly in her general direction.
“So why do you keep watching these same old shows? You’re not even laughing at it.”
“I guess I’m bored stuck here at home. And we have ten more days ahead, and then who knows, they could extend it because no one knows anything about this damn coronavirus. I walked a beat in Corona back when I first joined the NYPD, and let me tell you it was no picnic back then.”
“Well, there are things we could do, Stan,” Barb said lifting her shirt and flashing him a quick view of her delectable boobs.
“Geez, Moore, we just fucked last night. I’m not 23 anymore. And neither are you.”
Barb stuck her tongue out as she rose from the sofa. “You’re a ton of fun, Goldman. Well, I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. That’s the last of the chard. I’m going to call the Budget Booze Boutique and order a case to be delivered.”
“Sure, Barb,” Stan said. “Would you have them throw in a couple of bottles of Dunsmuir?” That wasn’t his favorite Scotch, but with the market crashing because of this damn virus and their accounts rapidly depleting, he figured it might be a good idea to economize. He hoped Moore wasn’t going to order the expensive wine-the one with the kangaroo on it was perfectly fine-but he thought it best not to mention that. Maybe all these people around the world who were stuck at home like them would be looking for a hot erotic read about lesbian prison hijinx under the rule of sadistic Matrons and Wardens.
Barb nodded and headed towards the kitchen. Despite himself, Stan watched the episode to the end-the crew never did get seated. He wondered where Barb had gone. How long did it take to order some booze on the phone? “Barb!” he called. He was met with silence.
He got up and went into the kitchen, which was deserted. ‘Maybe she went upstairs to take a bath?’ he wondered. But the bedroom with its adjoining bathroom with the large soaking tub was empty as well. He peered out the large half-moon window that looked upon the long driveway that curved down the forested hill to the county highway that led to the small town where they did their shopping for essentials like food and liquor, or had before the quarantine hit. He saw the Toyota-Barb’s Toyota- pull off the highway and make its way up the grade.
“What the fuck is she doing?” he muttered as he headed downstairs to meet her at the kitchen door. He opened it to find her standing there holding a box with the logo of some over-priced Scandinavian vodka. “Moore, what the fuck are you doing?” he demanded. It’s always good to practice your lines.
“Lou said that his nephew didn’t show up today and so he couldn’t make deliveries. So, I went down to pick it up.”
“You know you’re not allowed to do that, Moore,” he said sternly.
“Oh, come on, Goldman,” she replied. “He had the order all prepared. I just ran in and grabbed it. I even opened the door with my elbow, like a good citizen trying not to spread germs. I didn’t touch the counter and no one came within six feet of me.”
Stan shook his head. “Still, it was wrong, Barb. We’re celebrities here. People look to us as role models.” Stan didn’t know whether that was true, but he supposed it was possible. “What if someone saw you and tells the press or the State Troopers. Do you really want to go back to prison?”
Barb laughed. “No one is going to send me to prison for breaking quarantine, Stan. Maybe the County Health Department will send me a nasty letter.” She unloaded four bottles of wine into the refrigerator.
He saw the gold lettering on the label-no kangaroo-and grabbed one of the bottles. “Chateau de Something or Other,” he read. “How much was this?
“Under $150 for all four, Stan,” she replied, cheerily.
“Geez, Moore, do you realize how much our accounts have dropped in the past two weeks? We have to economize.”
“Sure, Stan, but we’re stuck here, not going out. We’re saving a fortune.” She began crumpling the box for the recycling.
“Where’s my Scotch?” he demanded.
Barb looked at him, her mouth open. “Shit! I forgot to order that! Look, let me call them and I’ll go back and pick it up.”
Stan shook his head. “No, young lady, I’m not letting you break quarantine a second time in fifteen minutes. You are going one place and one place only, downstairs! And right now!”
A mix of fear and defiance crossed Barb’s face. “Come on. Don’t be ridiculous, Stan. I was careful. I didn’t infect anyone even if I am infected, which I doubt.”
“Look, Barb, after all that you’ve been through, anyone but you would have learned to respect the law even when it isn’t what they’d choose. I despair that it will do any good, but I feel it’s my duty to keep trying to get some discipline into your thick head by the only route that has any chance of working, your tight little ass. Now, downstairs, and on the double!”
Barb glared at him, but Stan made sure his face showed nothing but anger and determination. And to tell the truth, he was angry, angry at this virus and the money he’d lost and at Barb’s nonchalant attitude and, most of all, at the fact that she had remembered her chardonnay but forgotten his whisky. That was something up with which he could not put.
Stan was staring listlessly at the TV. Even he was too dazed to laugh at the “jokes” and the antics of Jerry, Elaine, George and Kramer. “How many times do you think you’ve seen this ‘Seinfeld’ episode, Goldman?” she asked, adopting the tone of an exasperated mother with a troublesome toddler.
Stan looked over at Barb as she drained her glass of chardonnay. It was the episode, interestingly enough in view of their recent travel, where Jerry, Elaine and George are waiting for a table at their favorite Chinese restaurant before catching a movie and seeing party after party seated ahead of them.
“I dunno, Moore,” he said. “Low triple digits, if I had to guess. We could switch to ‘Law and Order-SVU, if you’d prefer. That Mariska Hargitay is one hot number.” He ducked as Barb tossed a sofa cushion half-heartedly in her general direction.
“So why do you keep watching these same old shows? You’re not even laughing at it.”
“I guess I’m bored stuck here at home. And we have ten more days ahead, and then who knows, they could extend it because no one knows anything about this damn coronavirus. I walked a beat in Corona back when I first joined the NYPD, and let me tell you it was no picnic back then.”
“Well, there are things we could do, Stan,” Barb said lifting her shirt and flashing him a quick view of her delectable boobs.
“Geez, Moore, we just fucked last night. I’m not 23 anymore. And neither are you.”
Barb stuck her tongue out as she rose from the sofa. “You’re a ton of fun, Goldman. Well, I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. That’s the last of the chard. I’m going to call the Budget Booze Boutique and order a case to be delivered.”
“Sure, Barb,” Stan said. “Would you have them throw in a couple of bottles of Dunsmuir?” That wasn’t his favorite Scotch, but with the market crashing because of this damn virus and their accounts rapidly depleting, he figured it might be a good idea to economize. He hoped Moore wasn’t going to order the expensive wine-the one with the kangaroo on it was perfectly fine-but he thought it best not to mention that. Maybe all these people around the world who were stuck at home like them would be looking for a hot erotic read about lesbian prison hijinx under the rule of sadistic Matrons and Wardens.
Barb nodded and headed towards the kitchen. Despite himself, Stan watched the episode to the end-the crew never did get seated. He wondered where Barb had gone. How long did it take to order some booze on the phone? “Barb!” he called. He was met with silence.
He got up and went into the kitchen, which was deserted. ‘Maybe she went upstairs to take a bath?’ he wondered. But the bedroom with its adjoining bathroom with the large soaking tub was empty as well. He peered out the large half-moon window that looked upon the long driveway that curved down the forested hill to the county highway that led to the small town where they did their shopping for essentials like food and liquor, or had before the quarantine hit. He saw the Toyota-Barb’s Toyota- pull off the highway and make its way up the grade.
“What the fuck is she doing?” he muttered as he headed downstairs to meet her at the kitchen door. He opened it to find her standing there holding a box with the logo of some over-priced Scandinavian vodka. “Moore, what the fuck are you doing?” he demanded. It’s always good to practice your lines.
“Lou said that his nephew didn’t show up today and so he couldn’t make deliveries. So, I went down to pick it up.”
“You know you’re not allowed to do that, Moore,” he said sternly.
“Oh, come on, Goldman,” she replied. “He had the order all prepared. I just ran in and grabbed it. I even opened the door with my elbow, like a good citizen trying not to spread germs. I didn’t touch the counter and no one came within six feet of me.”
Stan shook his head. “Still, it was wrong, Barb. We’re celebrities here. People look to us as role models.” Stan didn’t know whether that was true, but he supposed it was possible. “What if someone saw you and tells the press or the State Troopers. Do you really want to go back to prison?”
Barb laughed. “No one is going to send me to prison for breaking quarantine, Stan. Maybe the County Health Department will send me a nasty letter.” She unloaded four bottles of wine into the refrigerator.
He saw the gold lettering on the label-no kangaroo-and grabbed one of the bottles. “Chateau de Something or Other,” he read. “How much was this?
“Under $150 for all four, Stan,” she replied, cheerily.
“Geez, Moore, do you realize how much our accounts have dropped in the past two weeks? We have to economize.”
“Sure, Stan, but we’re stuck here, not going out. We’re saving a fortune.” She began crumpling the box for the recycling.
“Where’s my Scotch?” he demanded.
Barb looked at him, her mouth open. “Shit! I forgot to order that! Look, let me call them and I’ll go back and pick it up.”
Stan shook his head. “No, young lady, I’m not letting you break quarantine a second time in fifteen minutes. You are going one place and one place only, downstairs! And right now!”
A mix of fear and defiance crossed Barb’s face. “Come on. Don’t be ridiculous, Stan. I was careful. I didn’t infect anyone even if I am infected, which I doubt.”
“Look, Barb, after all that you’ve been through, anyone but you would have learned to respect the law even when it isn’t what they’d choose. I despair that it will do any good, but I feel it’s my duty to keep trying to get some discipline into your thick head by the only route that has any chance of working, your tight little ass. Now, downstairs, and on the double!”
Barb glared at him, but Stan made sure his face showed nothing but anger and determination. And to tell the truth, he was angry, angry at this virus and the money he’d lost and at Barb’s nonchalant attitude and, most of all, at the fact that she had remembered her chardonnay but forgotten his whisky. That was something up with which he could not put.
chardonnay not!
