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Chuck Hinman: IJMA 009: Embarrassed on an elevator

It's Just Me Again No. 009: Embarrased on an elevator
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by Chuck Hinman

I sit at a table at mealtime at Tallgrass Estates where there are two women and two of us guys. I know one of the ladies quite well. We are not an "item" but share a common interest of writing.

For some reason which she says she doesn't remember and I don't have any reason not to believe, she has a magazine subscription she doesn't remember ordering and it never seems to run out. It's a "girlie" magazine with very clear pics, particularly on the cover. She says she is embarrassed when it comes each month and without looking at it, tears her address off the cover and brings it to me at mealtime to "get rid of." She wants me to dispose of it on my floor -- anything, just so it can't be traced to her!

I haven't as much interest in girlie magazines as I might have had in earlier days - but perhaps a smidgeon of prurient interest, for the literary value! I am a burgeoning writer, you know! OK - I'm still a man, albeit an old one and I only have one eye that works, so where's the harm? I mostly try to accommodate an old friend and that's the truth, so, mind your own business! Excuse me for becoming defensive!

Last night she brought the current issue to the dinner table. I noticed a hint of cheap perfume as she leaned into me and whispered with steely eyes -- "Get rid of it for me!" I also noticed at close range she needs some help with her lipstick placement.

Like the innocent lamb I am, I smiled nervously as I laid the magazine face down on the window sill behind us.

Wouldn't you know it, as I was on my way back to my apartment on a crowded elevator with the evil magazine tucked snugly in my Baptist armpit, it got jostled on to the floor with the cover smack-dab up! I have never seen the elevator so well lighted! The light surge was almost like an electrical tsunami! I suddenly felt light-headed as I frantically fought off a feeling of wanting to faint but not knowing how.

I tried to stand on the magazine but I could still see breasts sticking out everywhere around my size 12 shoes! The more I stomped on them, the bigger they got! What to do!

I can't get down to pick it up and everyone on the danged elevator suddenly has 20/20 vision and want to try to help an old man pick up "his" magazine off the floor, old women everywhere, even in the rafters squawking - "C-H-U-U-C-K" with a smirky smile on their wrinkled faces.

I could have died and can hardly wait to tell my friend at lunch to handle her own trashy magazines from now on!

Is that funny or what? My reputation is forever tarnished!

Written by Chuck Hinman, January 7, 2005

The next earlier Chuck Hinman column: A Happy Ending Story

This story was posted on 2011-04-03 08:46:11
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