Friday, April 07, 2006

Where do I start the search for Dr. V? I spent some time recovering from that first real trip and
went back and forth for a month, exploring the Gallery, but only dared peek briefly inside the
Ballroom. The temptation to go back in there and die, in the arms of the many waiting mistresses
of times gone by, was too much for me to even try on again. It's for the best, I figure. But,
something tells me I might have to go in there again. However, I don't think I'm ready for that
just yet.

I did find that the paintings are portals into other worlds. Caution is my middle name now. No
more dying for me, thank you. These time facilities have a trace of someone's hand in them, like
it's been collected and put together. I am even starting to doubt that I had even done real time
travel. This was more like Pinocchio's Pleasure Island than anything else--an exhibit of time's
greatest hits--and I'm not talking about the magazine. The question that I have is, who put all of
this together and why?

My search for Dr. V led me back to the day that I first met him. But, I need to go back a little
further than that even. I need to tell you about a girl that I was falling over my boots for. She is
the real reason I'm in this mess in the first place.

Sarah was the daughter of one of my dad's insurance clients. In a small suburb, there isn't much
you don't know about your neighbor and my dad was a "good neighbor" with his job. The only
way to keep his income building was to really have his finger in the batter. This was one of those
canned meetings, where the parents got together and thought it would be a good thing to set me
up with their daughter: She, an academic type; me, a somewhat moody specter. In other words,
the weird boy needed fixing.

That first date with Sarah was rather awkward, to say the least. I made so many awful comments
about my parents around her and she called me on them. I really didn't know what to say, nor do I
ever around girls that I like. But, she was so different from me. Normally, I wouldn't even
consider her as someone that I could hang out with, but I was lured in by a fragment of her. This
fragment tickled my ambition and at that moment of strained aloofness, I couldn't resist her any
longer. My dark image was sucker punched by a longing. Then she asked me what I did for a
living and immediately froze. My only other job before then was bussing tables at a local diner
and I had quit that months ago. My reply was, “nothing”. The word "Oh" came out of her mouth
spinning like a dagger. I swore from that day on that I would never let myself get embarrassed
like that again.

Nothing motivates me better than that swimming pool of lust. I was certain to take about a week
to call her back, to which she gave me non-committal replies and vague assurances. There
seemed to be enough there, I thought, to keep hacking away at her front she put up. The more
she resisted, the more I made a willing ass twerp of myself. I had to get a job, and somewhere
that she hung out at. The ubiquitous coffee house downtown: Sarah’s hangout.

No more than 30 seconds into the interview they asked if I could sweep and clean tables. It turns
out I’d be living out my wildest fantasies of becoming a bus boy after all. The manager filled
me with motivational tripe, you know, all that 10 habits crap. I didn’t know this place would be
so Covey. It was a small price to pay, at least, to get Sarah to notice me.

The day she first showed up during one of my shifts couldn’t have turned out better for me. She
was on a double date: Her friend Kayleen Dobbs was with Shawn Beers, the second-string
quarterback at the big state university down the way. It took me awhile, though, to recognize
Sarah’s date. Hell, it couldn’t be, I thought. It was the “Kase”, Casey Randall. You know a
guy’s a real asshole when he purposely misspells his name, and oh, Lordy, what a meathead this
guy was. Back in highschool, The Kase would go around telling girls that he was “KFC”, which
either meant “Kasey’s Fond of Cunnilingus” or “Kasey’s Fabulous...” well, you can figure out
the rest. The Kase was quite the retard prince: all the other jocks and fellow meatheads kissed
his feet. So, Sarah was sitting there innocently, not knowing what this a-hole was about.

I started cleaning closer and closer, trying to get Sarah to notice something, anything, of me. My
moment had arrived, care of The Kase. Kasey told a real awful, tasteless joke about the Chinese,
as was his style. I at least knew that Sarah had an adopted sister from China, apparently this
winner had no clue. She threw her napkin at his face and he retaliated with, “Calm down, sweet

Sarah got up and stormed outside. I made like I needed to check the outside tables and caught up
to her. It was real nice to move in at that moment, I must say. The Kase couldn’t have made a
guy like me look any better. I took a chance and approached her. She didn’t really respond at
first, but what other options did she have? If she went back in she’d have to face The Kase. At
least if she talked to me she would appear to be past the situation. So, we sat down and talked.
My manager was occupied for a moment, or so I thought. I sat there talking to her, really getting
in good with her, making an impression, when my manager saw me sitting down on the job. I
was already on probation for various insubordinations, so this was it: fired right in front of the
very girl I got the job for. What happened next took me by surprise.

Sarah took my manager to task and explained that I was only trying to help her out. Well, that
dickhead manager didn’t see her point and I was still f-i-r-e-d! What this did do, however, was
give me the opportunity to give Sarah a long ride home. On that fateful ride home, she said that
she could get me another, better, job if I were interested. I was.

Sarah’s father was an attorney. One of his clients turned out to be Dr. V. This is how it all
started: She gave me the hook up and I became Dr. V’s new assistant. While Sarah stayed at
home, we were pretty close, but she transferred to an out of state college, eventually. We grew
farther apart, as those things usually do, and it seemed that it wasn’t meant to be, for then.


Blogger The Grunt said...

Sorry for the weird text block. Blogger wouldn't let me edit my saved post, so I had to do it in Word Perfect, then pasted it onto here. The words are there at least. You don't know how many times this post was ruined by blogger. That's why it took awhile to post it.

1:44 AM  
Anonymous vera said...


9:51 AM  
Blogger The Grunt said...

This is so Oliver Twist, but I'll play along:


10:20 AM  
Anonymous vera said...

please sir... can i have some more? *very bad cockney accent*

erm... oliver twist aside... i'm quite enjoying the story and am looking forward to the next installment.

11:37 AM  

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