Sellevision - Augusten Burroughs [16]
So be it. If his penis was responsible for getting him fired in the first place, it was only fair that it should help him secure a new and better job. Besides, E-Z Shop was located in Florida. And he had to admit, Florida wasn’t such a bad place to live. There was South Beach, after all. And he almost had the abs for it. Plus, he wouldn’t have to deal with those frigid northern winters anymore. And maybe he’d finally meet somebody, settle down. A nice, sun-bleached Florida guy who was really sweet and wholesome. And didn’t read The National Enquirer. Sure, the E-Z Shop wasn’t as classy as Sellevision, but then again, it beat the hell out of radio.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, in preparation for landing, please make sure that your tray table is stowed and that your seat back is in its upright position.” The flight attendant looked directly at Max when he said this.
He tightened the belt around his lap and peered out the window. The plane seemed to hover just above the tops of palm trees as it came in for the landing.
As he exited the aircraft, Max noticed that the forty-something pilot did a double take when he saw him. The pilot stared for a moment and then glanced at Max’s crotch before smiling and whispering something into the copilot’s ear. Max assumed he was being paranoid, but after stepping onto the exit ramp, he turned around. The pilot, copilot, and flight attendant were all looking at him, smirking. The obviously gay male flight attendant was at least covering his grin with his fingers.
To: PG_Smythe@Sellevision.com
Fr: Zoe@ProviderNet.com
Subject: Gee, thanks.
Peggy Jean,
I know you’re a busy woman with a demanding career and three young children who no doubt receives more than her fair share of “fan mail” but I have to tell you that I was a little hurt that you couldn’t find the time to send me even a brief personal note, especially considering I took the time out of my own busy life to inform you of your hairy earlobe problem, not to mention expressing my concern over your health in terms of smoking.
Zoe :|
After reading the letter, Peggy Jean once again sent her standard reply in return, making no apology and adding not a single personal comment. She then phoned her husband at his office and asked if he wouldn’t mind picking up a can of cream of celery soup on his way home. She thought she’d try out a new recipe for canned salmon casserole she’d clipped from the back of Soap Opera Digest. Peggy Jean then opened the box of homeopathic medicine she’d purchased, pushed one of the pills through the foil backing, and placed it under her tongue, letting it dissolve.
four
“Ta da!” Trish sang, extending her finger so that Leigh and Peggy Jean could admire the gigantic diamond engagement ring.
“Oh, Trish, congratulations—he finally asked, you are just . . .” Peggy Jean stopped midsentence, rendered speechless as her eyes fell on the rock.
Leigh simply gasped. Then, taking Trish’s hand in her own and bringing it closer to her face, she said, “Trish, this stone is enormous, it must be like seven carats. How . . . ? I mean . . . ?”
“Seven point five,” Trish said gleefully, “but who’s counting!” She squealed and stamped both little feet.
Peggy Jean discreetly turned her own diamond engagement ring around so that the small stone faced the inside of her hand.
“I had no idea your fiancé was so, well, loaded,” Leigh said. “This ring must have cost him a fortune.”
Trish tilted her hand slightly from side to side, dazzled by how the ring just soaked up all the light in the room. “Huh?” she said, looking up. “Who?”
“Your fiancé,” Leigh said again. “This must have broken the bank.”
“Oh, him!” Trish laughed. “This didn’t cost him a penny.”
And it was true.
When Trish’s Price Waterhouse boyfriend had presented her with the original engagement ring, it had been in front of Trish’s father, Walter Mission III. Trish and her boyfriend had flown to Dallas to celebrate his sixtieth birthday, an event