Mike = "Kept Man"? Ew!

Here's the next bit that Mike hadta say

April,

Little sis. The best thing about quitting my job was how many things I found out about the true nature of my wife as a result. You were there for part of it. I had come home from Portrait Magazine and announced to my wife I had quit my job, and you popped in from around this enormous wall and hallway which were located just behind the stairs to the second floor bedrooms. I have lived at Sharon Park Drive for most of my life, and the tendency for the house to rearrange its interiour has never ceased to amaze me. For example, when I left for work this morning, in place of that enormous wall and hallway was the door to the back porch.

You were there with my children, apparently baby-sitting behind that wall, even though Deanna was home. Back in my old apartment, when there was a baby-sitter waiting there after work, it usually meant Deanna and I were going to go out. That was not the case this time. As I was thinking about this, you said, “Mike finally did what?” Deanna replied, “He left his job at Portrait Magazine! I’ve been begging him to quit and he did!” As you saw, little sis, Deanna gave her begging (whining, caterwauling, nagging, etc.) the total credit for me quitting my Portrait job. I had a sudden thought, which filled my mind with dread: If Deanna thinks “begging” works, then she may continue that practice for the rest of my life. I had this sudden flash of me, in a train conductor’s uniform, playing with model trains.

I was about to launch into a protest, when my son leaped over my shoulder and I caught him just in time. My son was headed for my wallet, but he was not going to get it. This distracted me from my mission long enough so that you were able to fire off your question, “What will you do now?” My mind raced back to the model trains, but I convinced my mouth to answer, “Freelance…And I have an outline done for a second book.” I was thinking of calling it Son of the Soddy or The Soddy vs. Godzilla. Which one do you like?

As you departed, what you didn’t see (probably because you went all black) was Deanna grab me by the shirt collar and say, “I’m going to be the breadwinner. For a while! And...if you’re working at home, we won’t have to look for an apartment in the city!” Then the shame of it all fell on me. I couldn’t think of any couples in Milborough where the wife was the breadwinner, which could stand as a good example for me to follow in my life. Steve Nichols cheated on Anne Nichols. Thérèse Caine cheated on Anthony Caine. The only solution which popped into my head was that I could become a “kept man”. I am sure you know the ones, little sis. I would be a white boy from the suburbs that marries a rich city lady. My job would be to pleasure her and be eye candy. She in returns takes care of all my financial needs. I could not imagine this was what Deanna really wanted. I said, “You’re really OK with this? …I’ll be a ‘kept man’!”

But Deanna answered with an enthusiastic “Yes…and with less tension in your life.—I’ll be able to keep you for longer.” Well, little sis, it’s hard to deny a woman who answers your question with a pun, even if she implied that the tension in my life was going to kill me. Deanna put her arms on my shoulders. I put my hands on her shoulder blades, as she started to slide to the floor. I think it might have led to something else, if Edgar hadn’t been on the floor giving us the evil eye. Gone are the days when a little romantic punning led to some hanky-panky on the floor. I think it’s been almost 5-6 years now since those days. I hope Deanna doesn’t expect me to wear a Speedo as a part of this “kept man” business.

Love,
Michael Patterson

Aw, man, I've gotta give sum extra treats 2 Eddie! And I M sooooo replacing my bed when I get the chance. Ew!

Abt yr next book, I think mayB it's time 2 move on fr. the whole "Soddy" theme.

It makes me kinda sad that Dee believed U quit Portrait cuz U asked her, since that seemz 2 have lil or nothing 2 do w/it. Poor Dee! Tho I guess yr rite, this cd put U on the road 2 a "Dad" choo-choo kinda future.

Morrie, I'm sorry 2 hear abt yr trubs w/the shady moving company!

Apes

Belated Title

Hey, so Mike left another comment last nite:

April,

Little sis. Something that is good for you to remember is there is nothing more romantic than a pun. Even a bad pun, which doesn’t make any sense, in a romantic setting, will take on romantic overtones which resonate in the heart of the most frigid woman.

For instance, last night I was lying on your bed, looking at the ceiling and marveling at how nice your bed was and that you had purchased a queen-sized bed for your bedroom, which is far too much bed for a teenaged girl. I didn’t remember having such luxuries when I lived in Sharon Park Drive, but there I was, holding Deanna’s hand as she did her imitation of Stretch Armstrong. Deanna looked over at me and said, “You did it. After all those late nights of writing and rewriting—you’re the author of a book!”

I thought briefly about correcting Deanna, and pointing out I was an author before, but what I soon will be is a “published” author; but I thought better of it. Deanna slid the hand I was holding under the covers and moved it to a more advantageous position and that gave me the big hint I better say romantic things to her. She touched me on the shoulder with her free hand and said words I have not heard from Deanna in quite some time, “Congratulations, Michael.” As if I had just won a prize. Considering where her other hand was, I believe I thought that was exactly what I was about to win.

I thought, “Well, Michael. Don’t screw up.” And I said, “Well…thanks for being so supportive, Deanna. You helped with every page!” I thought that was an easy truth, since Deanna was the one who went to the Office Depot to get that really nice paper I printed my manuscript on.

Deanna didn’t quite get that. She said, “—by leaving you alone while you worked?” She was really giving me that look which said, “You’re going to like what happens next.” I thought, “Don’t screw up. But then I thought about what she just said. If I agree to what she said then it would be like my saying her ‘leaving me alone’ is right. I didn’t want any of that ‘leaving’ stuff.”

Then I remembered what Dad had said so many times: When you’re in a crisis situation, you can always rely on a pun. I didn’t like the word ‘leaving’ so that was the obvious choice to change for a pun. But what to say? My mind was racing. I thought I could say, ‘By laving me alone’ but that sounded too much like she cleaned me. I thought I could say, ‘By living me alone’ but that was too much like Deanna was a modern-day Dr. Frankenstein bringing her monster to life.’ I thought about saying, ‘By levying me alone’ but that sounded too much like she was imposing a fine on me. I thought about saying, ‘By loaving me alone’ but it was much too bready for me. So, I opted with ‘By loving me alone’, to show Deanna she was the only person to love me while I worked on my book. Aside from my mother. But of course I wasn’t so stupid to mention mom while Deanna was in the mood. You know “in the mood” when you’re single and celibate means a lot different thing from when you’re “in the mood” to write or when you’re married and your wife is “in the mood.”

The pun worked, little sis. After last night, I am strongly motivated to start working on my next novel. If I had known it would have this kind of effect on Deanna, I would have starting writing my novels earlier in my life.

Love,
Michael Patterson

Mike, the reason I bought myself a queen-sized bed was that I figged since I was spending MY OWN MONEY NEway, I mite as well get myself sumthing that cd last me thru uni 2 getting my own place. Only now that U've hinted that U an' Dee have fouled it up, I mite just hafta burn it and get another.

Jeremy, that was sum crazy stuff goin' on @ the 3 Kronen last nite. I'd heard abt Wilco the car-driving bunny, but until U actually ride in a car he's driving, U just don't know. Wow! After Zandra an' I had our discussion in the washroom (I'll let her decide if she wants NE1 2 know what we talked abt), I cdn't believe what happed next. I hadn't noticed that Liz had been there all along, quietly drinking herself silly. Then she insisted on getting onstage 2 sing "Four Strong Winds" by Neil Young. OMG, alcohol does sum funky thingz 2 her voice!

NEway, Wilco and Zandra got me back 2 Gramps an' Iris' place just in time 4 me 2 make them a surprise brekky. Now I think I need a nap.

Apes

Mike guesses what Dee wants 2 hear?

Blogger is being imposs this morning. I totally can't get myself logged in, so I'm gonna use my e-mail-to-blogger thingy. I'll hafta fix the formatting l8r. And add labels. Sorry abt the commercial 4 yahoo that's gonna B @ the bottom. NEway, Mike had sum more 2 say in a post last nite:

April,

Little sis. I believe this will be the last part of my story involving the fire, so your readers can finally rest easy after having heard all the details. I had returned home after my very emotional visit with Josef Weeder and Carleen Stein, and I found my wife Deanna staring wistfully out the window of our room, which used to be your room. I remember reading once that one of the questions women really like to hear is "What are you thinking about?" You can't go wrong with this question, because just asking it shows you are a sensitive and caring husband willing to listen to whatever your wife wants to say, no matter how silly it is. The occasion seemed to call for it, since Deanna was staring wistfully after all. Deanna responded, "How it all was before the fire." That seemed like a dangerous answer to me, because as a husband, you don't know what "it" is. If she is talking about perfume or makeup or sanitary napkins, then you are venturing into an area of conversation most men avoid at all possible costs. If she is talking about how your relationship was before the fire, then she is most likely going to lead into saying something about how "it" was better before, because women rarely ever say the relationship was worse than it is currently. I thought to myself, "I better not say anything and hope she is not talking about relationships or other really girly things."

That worked out very well, because Deanna started to elaborate on what "it" was. She told me, "I can see the clothes in the closets, where everything was in the kitchen, the kids' room, the hall carpet, the pictures on the walls…" I got a little nervous then. I looked outside the window, and I couldn't see those things. I thought it might be one of those games where you see images in the clouds, but the clouds I saw looked like a rubber duck, a laptop computer and Josef Weeder's nostril hair. Then I thought she might be speaking metaphorically, like the things she could see stood for something else which was similar to what she saw, i.e. her lost childhood, or her alienation from her parents, or her never-changing hairstyle. Then I remembered, "This is Deanna. She is not that deep. She's talking about actual things." But then I was nervous again, because she was talking about things I could barely remember. I thought to myself, "I hope she doesn't quiz me to see if I remember those things too. I could tell her all about what was up in the attic, and all about our bedroom, which is where I spent most of my time; but I was iffy on those other places." Once again, I kept silent for my own safety and it worked again.

Then Deanna said, "It's like it never happened. We'll wake up in the morning and go home." Once more I panicked, because I didn't know what "it" was. The first time "it" was something which could be before and after the fire. This time "it" was something that happened, which could be reversed and return us to our homes, like the fire, or our marriage, or something worse. I had to take action quickly to cover all the bases. My mind was racing like a top, and miraculously the solution came to me. I said, "We'll have a place of our own again, Deanna. But, for now, as long as we're together….we're home." It was a cliché, but it seemed to work. I put my arm around Deanna and held her close and for once she didn't push me away and make some joke about how I wasn't getting any. We had a nice quiet moment. I breathed a sigh of relief. I had once again survived a conversation with my wife.

Love,

Michael Patterson

Mike--the first time she sed "it," Dee was talking abt yr apt. When she sed "It's like it never happened," "it" was the fire. Duh.

Apes
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