421. Conversations at Walmart

I’m always good on a promise. Even to C.W. So when he went a week without making my wife’s head explode, I made good.

It’s one of his favorite things. We go Walmart. He shapes up like a lumberjack or something pretty close to it. We wander the aisles slowly and wait unit we hear a loud conversation, a one-way one. Not by just anybody. It has to be a certain type, a woman with a hoarse voice from a two-pack a day habit, wearing a baseball hat with a ponytail hanging out the back with a tight t-shirt emblazoned with something along the lines of “These Boobs Protected By Barretta.”

Yeah, I wasn’t going to say it, but you can. We have a lot of them around there and, yes, most necks are quite crimson.

So, what C.W. likes to do is sidle up to them as they yell into the phone, lean forward, and listen to the one side of the conversation.

No, it doesn’t work like you would think, not around here anyway. I've never seen one become angry. Occasionally they ignore him. More often, they nod, smile and welcome him into the conversation. We live in a friendly state, after all.

So yesterday was a fun trip, for him. We hadn’t been in the store for five minutes when we heard a sound like a corn-sheller going off, and words emerging from the noise. “Naw, I don’t care. Last time he let me use his pickup after we got done.”

Off we went. We got as near as we could, I pretended to look for Feta Cheese, which is a good way to waste time in Walmart. C.W. moved in alongside a tallish woman with dingy blond hair wearing a shirt with “Think Twice Before You Pat It,” in red spread across the back.” A drawing of two crossed baseball bats emphasized the point.

“Heck no,” she said into the phone. “Hit was for what we done Saturday night. He preaches on Sunday and uses his wife’s car. Only took two minutes, and I got a lot of things hauled off next day.”

She noticed C.W. then, smiled at him and nodded. She tipped the phone in his direction and motioned for him to listen.

“Hell yeah, it was a good swap,” she said. Then she and C.W. both laughed. He moved a little closer.

“Am I what?” Her eyes grew wide. She looked at C.W. and said. “Do I look like I’m ashamed of myself?”

He shook his head in a display of solemnity. “He agrees,” she said. “I got me a witness.”

She and C.W. both nodded and laughed.

“What?” She continued the conversation. “No,” she said into the phone. “Hit came regular as clockwork.” She winked at C.W. “So I reckon ever-thang was okay.” She listened for a moment. “You got that right, Hon,” she said. “I shore don’t need no new crumb-grabber slowing me down.” She looked at C.W. and he nodded. “Bet your sweet ass, though,” she said. “I ain’t using that brand no more.” He nodded in agreement.           

It went on like this for maybe ten minutes. People eased their carts by slowly, enjoying the snippets. I pulled my hat down as far as it would go and pretended to be invisible.

I love making new friends
among the Earthlings. - C.W.

We learned of her latest choice of laxatives. C.W. agreed.

We learned why she cut her old boyfriend off. C.W. agreed.

We learned that she wasn’t going let her daughter “git on them goddam pills until she was at least 14.” C.W. disagreed.

We learned of her plans to get a prescription for what she called “MM.” C.W. looked confused.

We learned that she considered “pollacks” the best lovers. C.W. took this in.

We learned that she wasn’t above one of “them two-on-ones” if she found the right two. C.W. smiled.

At long last, she said into the phone, “We gotta go, Hon.” After listening for a moment, she said, “Hell, I don’t know.” She turned to C.W. “What is your name, Hon?”

“Caspar Wolinski,” he said.

She nodded toward me, “He with you?”

C.W. nodded. I shook my head. Just at that moment, a neighbor I know walked by with one of the Walmart workers.

“Hey,” C.W.’s new friend shouted at the store worker, in her hoarse voice that I’m sure carried onto the parking lot, “Can you point me toward the condoms? And I want the kind that don’t break.”

See also:

Delta Dreaming

All Hat No Cattle

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196. Ailments

C.W. and I were taking a walk along the river in Little Rock and, for a change, I was enjoying his company. On occasion, he appears in a form very similar to the late writer William Faulkner, complete with herringbone sports jacket, hat, and pipe. At these times, he tends to be more contemplative and, … well listen to him.

“I’ve discovered something about your species,” he said, “that is quite unique in the galaxy.”

“Somehow, “I said, as a bicyclist sped by at a blinding speed, brushing my elbow and shouting an expletive. “Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.”

“I have learned,” he said, “that among the elderly, the greeting ‘How are you doing today?’ is not a question asked merely for effect with no answer expected.”

“A rhetorical question, in other words.”

“Why are you repeating me again?”

I said, “Never mind. Continue.”

“Gladly,’ he said, puffing his pipe. A woman pushing a baby stroller met us going the opposite direction and made exaggerated hand motions to wave away the smoke. He tipped his hat to her. She huffed along. “What I have learned,” he said, “is that when asked that question, old folks will begin to describe their physical conditions in great, and unwanted detail, and why they do that I don’t know, unless they think the whole thing is important and it would never be that at all unless you were close to them in some way and not a complete stranger.”

“You might want to work on your sentence structure,” I said.

“I have been,” he said. “Can’t you tell?”

“Go on.”

“So,” he said, “is there no physical condition that is so intimate, so personal and evolutionarily basic, that some of you will forbear sharing the details with a stranger?”

“What kind of details?”

“Well,” he said, as we stopped to admire a particularly beautiful view of the Little Rock skyline and a teenager walked past us punching a message into her phone, “the question I mentioned can certainly elicit a detailed description of some current ailment or a recent visit to a person’s physician.” He puffed. “They certainly like to share that one with you—the visit to their doctor.”

I nodded and we continued to walk.

He said, “Bowel movements. That’s another.”

"Bowel movements?”

“Bowl movements. Popular topic. I’ve had more than one old soul begin telling me about her digestive ailments, simply because I asked how she was doing.”

I couldn’t disagree with him.

He continued, “Not only frequencies, but personal characteristics, if you know what I mean.”

“I’m afraid I do,” I said.

One of the interesting things about you
is your ability to talk to strangers. - C.W.

“Then I had one,” he said, “attempt to tell me about her aged husband’s attempts to perform actions she hadn’t been interested in since the Reagan Administration.”

“Oh dear,” I said.

“You may not think it odd,” he said. “But on Falloonia, we keep such information to ourselves.”

At this point, we were interrupted by the reappearance of the woman in the baby stroller, this time with a police officer in tow. He suggested C.W. might want to extinguish his pipe. He did, and after some heated discussions, we continued our walk.

“Well,” he said, “enough about me. How have you been?”

 

“A little irregular, I’m afraid.”

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79. Discourse

It was shaping up to be a pleasant evening. C.W. dropped by in one of the few shapes that he repeats, the conjoined twins, Lucky and Lefty. The long-time reader may remember them as quite a contentious pair. Here is the ending of the description of the first time we met: “With that, they walked away. I watched and they did quite well, except that every hundred feet or so they would stop and turn in circles for a minute or so, first in one direction, and then the other.”

It is true, they couldn’t even agree on how to walk properly. Imagine then, my surprise when they appeared as a happy, contented, pair of siblings seemingly settled into perfect harmony.

“I believe you know my brother Lefty,” Lucky said.

“I do.”

“And I am sure that you remember my brother Lucky,” Lefty said.

“Indeed. But what is up?”

“We beg your pardon?” Lucky said.

“We most certainly do,” Lefty said.

“Uh, the last time we visited, you fellers couldn’t have agreed on what day of the week it was.”

“We have reformed.”

“Yes, we saw the light.”

“Saw the light?” I said.

“Yes,” Lucky said. “We have become extremely concerned about the level of discourse in your country.”

“Well isn’t that something?” I said.

“Yes, when the ‘loyal opposition’ calls the President of your country a traitor and claims he hates America, it gives us pause.” Lefty said.

“Well,” I said, “This is not the first time in our history that it has happened. Senator Joe McCarthy once called General George Marshall, who led us through World War Two, a traitor.”

“Exactly,” Lucky said.

“It’s so 1950s,” Lefty said.

“I see.”

“So we are concentrating on positive dialogue,” Lucky said.

“It takes one to know one,” Lefty said.

“The Devil’s boots never squeak,” Lucky said.

There was silence.

“It is possible that my brother has not quite reached the end of the Eightfold Path,” Lefty said.

“My brother …” Lucky began.

“That’s enough. I get the point,” I interrupted. “Let’s not return to our old habits.”

“Certainly not,” Lucky said, but I could tell his feelings were hurt, so I asked him a question directly.

”So, do you mean that you directing us to a more gentle collective consciousness?” I said. “Say for example, ‘If you have done this to the least of these my brothers …”

“Oh,” said Lucky. “That is so FDR, so 1930s.”

“We represent a more utilitarian consciousness,” Lefty said.

“I am confused,” I said.

“We want to present your species with a cosmic truth,” Lucky said.

“But one that is, at the same time, of lasting practical utility,” Lefty said.

“Such as,” I said. “Go boldly forth …”

“Oh please,” Lucky said. “That is so 1960s. We have a much more meaningful and useful utility paradigm for you.”

“I am all ears,” I said.

“You do have your notepad and pencil ready?” Lefty said.

”I do.”

“Are you ready?” Lucky said.

“Lay it on me.”

May the Farce be with you.
- Lefty and Lucky

Each took a deep breath. Then they joined hands, looked at one another, and smiled.

“Lefty loosey,” Lucky said.

”Righty tighty,” Lefty said.