The Blue Lady
I’m from a farm. I had my own horse and grew up around 200 head of black Angus cattle. However I moved to the city when my father died and have not looked back. Well maybe a little but I love city life. I am a die hard people watcher since I spent my childhood watching cows. I love being able to buy smokes right behind my apartment. I live behind a gas station, chinese food place, McDonald’s, Jamaica place, sub and pizza place, and a CVS. I didn’t have that many options in my entire county. Sadly, like me, the city is cleaning up and the bullet proof glass is gone from my gas station. When the zombie apocalypse happens I will need a new place to go.
I have thought I was on the outside looking in until I finished my City Slicker list. I figured you must find a half dead or dead body, stop a raping, get mugged, help carry an overdosed person, have a complete stranger try to sell you drugs harder then weed, go to all the museums in your city, buy hot merchandise out of luggage on the sidewalk, see a ballet, do the walk of shame (strut of pride in my book) and carve your name into a fresh paved side walk to be a City Slicker. Today I finish that list.
Today I left my apartment for my daily walk. I find a thirty minute walk is not only reasonable exercise, but it is good for clearing writers block or resolving mental conundrums. So I left my building, turned left and started walking. My city is a very nice southern city. Trees in the sidewalk. Monuments to our failed civil war. Lots of old buildings and a very diverse architecture A beautiful city in the spring.
Anyway, I was enjoying this beautiful day trying to cure my writers block when I came across a construction crew replacing the corner of a side walk. The trees in all the side walks creates the continuous effort of fighting the roots for level sidewalks. Our sidewalks are more like rolling hills, and I have no idea how the handicapped move around. To top it off, my fair city had it’s first earthquake about a year ago. It’s amazing that not one of these pre-civil war, mold infested, no central air having, shit heaps fell in. I thought a plane crashed on my head from the roar of the quake and not one building came down, but that is another story once I figure out how to write it.
So there’s me walking along next to the construction crew replacing the corner sidewalk. I realized that my City Slicker list could be finished if I waited till five and carve my name into the sidewalk. I thought of all the other things I had checked off the City Slicker list and this Cowboy Sailor started to laugh. That’s when I remembered the night of Blue Lady…
So one night, lets say year two of city life, and there is a murderous knock at my door. I’m talking zombies right behind me, let me in knocking. I open the door to see the guy who lives above me. We hadn’t properly been introduced, since he just moved in, but I had seen him around. He is a squirly little guy, with blond hair that always seems to be messed up. Did I mention he put any of my addictions to shame? Long after this story, when we became friends, I properly named him FUBAR. FUCKED UP BEYOND ALL RECOGNITION He was a good shit and I am happy to report he is alive and clean last time I heard.
So FUBAR is standing in my doorway and says these words exactly “I hear your cool and I need your help!” Nothing good or legal have ever started with those words. He then runs his ass back upstairs without saying a word. I follow him to his apartment and find the door open. It was dark inside and I heard the sound of water running in the bathroom. I slowly crept to the bathroom with all kinds of images in my mind. He killed some poor college girl. Some hooker overdosed in his house and he is cutting up the body. Perhaps the after math of scar face will be in this bathroom although I would have heard a chainsaw from the apartment above me. Maybe I will get lucky and he just wants me to hide a shit load of guns, money and drugs. I round the corner, enter the bathroom, and find the blue lady in the tub.
First to make you fully understand I mean blue like sky vodka bottles blue. She looked like a fucking Popsicle and a naked one at that. I say nothing and look at him demanding an explanation with my eyes. He quickly responds with he left her alone for a second and she tried to sneak some heroin from him and overdosed FUBAR’S cure for this was to place her in a cold bath. For the record I’m pretty sure it’s the worst thing to do. After refusing the urge to cut his balls off so he could never contaminate the gene pool, I tended to the blue lady.
First I would like to say I’m not a doctor, and luckily I’m scared of needles. So this was very new to me. Did I mention I’m from a farm? I told FUBAR that we need to get her to a hospital. Of course he says hell no we will get busted. I respond with I’m to drunk to drive. I tell him he has a choice, either he takes her to the hospital or I’m calling an ambulance. Tragic how the fate of this blue woman was in our incompetent hands for a moment. She better thank Christ I’m a gentleman. FUBAR knew that the crime was so bad in our city, if I called an ambulance the cops would come. Not to mention he can drive her there faster then an Ambulance getting a police escort to our street, picking her up and driving back to the hospital. I had left him only one logical choice. Drive her it’s only five blocks away to the small hospital. Ambulances come from across town at the big mother hospital. He agreed, but he needed help getting her to the car. Now I’m a short guy 5’6 and so was my companion, but it was refreshing to see he wasn’t afraid to bang a chick taller then him. She was a good six feet. One holloween I banged a six four chick who was wearing six inch heals. I wondered if I should put a step ladder up her legs. But she loved all three hours of it. Short guys rule!
So there I was, carrying a half dead blue woman, in a blanket, down the stairs with my heroin addict companion I wondered how my life came to this, and why criminals always trust me. The funny thing is the both of us can barely lift her and only an act of God,Allah,Yahweh and Buddha prevented us from dropping her down the stairs. Short guys are not made to carry people down flights of stairs drunk. We get her to FUBARS car, throw her in and he is off. I returned to the oasis, my apartment, and wondered if I made the right choice in letting him drive her. Is he just going to throw her in the river? The next day FUBAR told me that she will be fine after she gets out of jail in a year. God only knows how he got away, and we became fast friends. Funny enough he dated the girl for a while. She was very thankful.
Now if you will excuse me I have a side walk to carve my name into and a list to finish. Embrace where you live people. The good, the bad, the ugly, the illegal and the blue. When in Rome right? But remain a Gentleman in Rome, even if the blue lady did have a great rack. Evil only prevails when good men do nothing.
And the list to be a cowboy if you ask. Beak a horse, use a pick up truck as a pool, hang over a hundred yards of fence, fall off a horse drunk, have a camp fire higher taller then the barn or house which ever is taller, get kicked and bite by horse, clean stall, fall in shit, sleep outside, and pass out till sunrise in pasture.
And the sailor list… Sink a boat, break a boat in half, nearly drown, win a state champion race, have sex on boat, get head while under sail and at helm, get boomed, get hypothermia, rope burned hands till they bleed, survive hurricane, capsize and right boat during race and still win, and lose an anchor.
Now I’m a city slickin, cowboy, sailor hell yeah.
P.S. A song that went through my head more times then I can count during my ludicrous years. SEND LAWYERS GUNS AND MONEY!