The Thing From Bloggy Swamp

"Music is real--the rest is scenery." Fats Waller

Con Chapman

Con Chapman
Location
Boston, Massachusetts, US of A
Birthday
September 28
Bio
. . . is the author of over fifty books--some with paper!--available on amazon.com and elsewhere.

FEBRUARY 12, 2013 8:58PM

I Can't Breathe

Rate: 7 Flag

From: nadine1949@hotmail.com

To: pfeifferfamily@aol.com

Re: Ronnie and me

Mom I have been calling and calling you but no one picks up. Are you down at the Cape and if so why didn’t you tell me? I wish you would get an answering machine.

Ronnie has moved out of the apartment and is living with his brother I guess. I gave notice at work and am going to move back in with you and Dad. I have had it with men and here are the “gorey details.”

The first few weeks living with him were just heaven. He would meet me every night after I got off work and we’d go out for Polynesian or Italian food in his car. I don’t mean we ate in his car, he would drive us to a restaurant on Route 1 for take-out and we’d bring it home. Then he’d take me to night school and pick me up when it was over. He always seemed to have plenty of money and wanted to be with me. That was nice.

He wasn’t interested in shopping with me on weekends for things for the apartment which didn’t matter it was furnished anyway. He said he needed to relax and go to the dog races and that was fine with me. I am not interested in dogs.

So first month he was late with his half of the rent so I covered the whole thing, he said he had his money tied up in an investment that he had to liquid date. I said that was okay, “Mister,” kind of wagging my finger at him so he’d get the message but in a nice way. I figured I really owed him something for all the driving he does for me and all the take-out food he bought, he always had cash.

So that was okay. But then he pulled the same thing on me the next month. I asked him what the problem was and he said that he had to put some more money into the business he owned with his brother, so that seemed okay. But then I started to ask him what kind of business it was. I thought it would help us understand each other better if I knew what he was doing with his time. “Oh,” he says, “we’re going to start breeding dogs.” Fine, I think, that gives him the dog business and the investment business like he originally told me, that should give him plenty to keep him busy. I even asked him “You aren’t spreading yourself too thin at both ends, are you?” Oh no, don’t worry about me, he says. “Ha” I should have said.

So then next month I figure he’s good for the rent but the end of the month comes and nothing. So I start dropping little hints like saying “Ronnie I’m gonna put my rent check in the envelope, you want to put yours in?” Naw, he says, remind me about it though. So I remind him about it and he says he’s gonna make a deposit as soon as he cashes in one of his investments. And it was about that time I found a $50 ticket stub on the car floor and I said “Uh, Ronnie, maybe you shouldn’t be spending so much money betting if business isn’t going so hot.” And he gets real red and mad and starts giving me this lecture about how he needs the dogs so he can “let off steam” because he’s under so much pressure with his investments and his business. Okay, I say to myself—back off, give him some room. But I said to him “You’d better start paying your share or I’m outta here.”

So then we’re about a week late with the rent and I find this note which says “verb atem”:


Dear Nadine—

I’m sorry but I don’t think things are going to work out. I should of known better as I’ve always been a “loner.” I don’t know why that is. I just gotta be free and I gotta be me, like the song says. Really, you are too good for me anyway—you deserve the best! And I just can’t settle down right now, okay? So I hope there’s no “hard feelings.” Be good to yourself, beautiful.

Sorry,

Ronnie

I’m a loner, he says. What he should of said is “I’m a loser” you know why? I found out this whole time he’s never been in business at all. He goes to the dog track every day and makes his “investments.” Ha!

I called his brother after he left and said is Ronnie there, no he says. I say I’m interested in buying a dog, he says Ronnie hasn’t got a dog. I say I thought Ronnie was a greyhound breeder. He says you must of misunderstood. Ronnie bets on greyhounds, he doesn’t breed them. I say “Thanks for nothing” and hang up.

Mom what am I gonna do? I mean, I would call a lawyer I guess but what does that get me? Every man I meet is some kind of jerk and this one was the “frosting” on the cake. What did I do to deserve this guy? I just don’t know. Anyhow, I’m taking the Friday night bus back to Worcester so I’ll see you and dad then.

Can you make me an appointment with the doctor for when I get there? Because right now, I can’t breathe.

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Comments

Type your comment below:
Hm I have seen this story in my life... late sister bred dogs could no longer afford house.
A former love loved the casino more than me..
But I still kept breathing.. yup I was breathing fire like a dragon.
Lifetime movie it could be..
Loved it.
HUGGGGGGG
Tell Lifetime to send me a pm--I'm ready to sell!
Familiar story. That gambling is a hard vice to kick for some people. I have seen it ruin two fellows I know. They loved it soooooo much. Crazy. Good story. Thanks.
Sadly, I don't think the Pfeiffers are the only ones to get this email.
Oh no--did I hit "reply all"?
a liquid dater ... early clue.
I thought it would help us understand each other better if I knew what he was doing with his time..

famous last words to the utter deterioration of a relationship
that has gone to the dogs.

he needs his freedom.
so set him 'free' in the theological sense!
get some rowdy boys to take him to the woods.

a man with such love and decency "be good to yrself';
ought to be freed from these constraints
of an ugly society. as the song says,
"let me die in my footsteps"
I broke my vows again.
Odd day Indeed Moma.
We foot stomp in dung.

Beer squat and we step.
We haul stink to courts.
It fun to court she gioat.
`
On Topic . . .
I on VAMC Public Blog.
I Blocked from O.S. Blog.
Serious. No access @ VA.
The Block no Love Blogs?
'Other Salon' No Be so Bad.

No tread beer prints Here?
Orthopedic? No breath Too.
Doc no Love Beer breath Here.
Oops!
typo.
Not giaot
But, goat
`
I only meant to write:
`
I read this @ Other Salon.
Government No Love Con?
I can't comprehend Blogs.
yeah well Arthur write one, wouldya? (tease)
other place>?? nice pajama party.
here? same old hard times. hard stuff.
disagreements breaking out in a moment's notice.
Like:
"Government No Love Con?
I can't comprehend Blogs"
both arguable points.
Art--I don't think you'll be allowed back on OS until the new pope is elected. He's calling the shots.
I PRAY Pope Help Too.
Pope no poop on Sheets.
Pope Poop on Pink Pot.

Pope no send Valentine.
Con C. I shop for Cheese.
I ate what I done Bought.
`
Now Pope Pray For Possums,
sheep, and Free Lost Lawyers.
If we write Book Pants Down.
`
St Vincent de Millay wrote that.
I think. I read in Lawyer Book.
VCon C. You wrote Poem Book.
`
Thanks
`
I barter goat Cheese and Blue.
You write as if Lune/Loon Bird.
I send to Eric Holder. He write?
If he write Book? Oops. No write.
Then, You walk with britches off.