TAXI GIRL
Chapter Seventeen
The following Saturday, Dan pulled the orange Steelcase office chair up to the gateleg table in the living room of his and Tania’s apartment. He loaded a sheet of paper into the Remington upright and turned the platen knob. Tania faced him in her upholstered chair; she rolled a pencil between her thumb and index finger.
“We could do A Space Saga as a play,” she said. “You could be Dr. Sfinks, and I could play the nice person from space.”
“Most shows run two hours,” said Dan. “A Space Saga is three minutes and twenty-nine seconds long; what are we gonna do for the other hundred and sixteen minutes and thirty-one seconds?”
Tania leaned her head against the back of her chair and looked at the ceiling.
“Improvise . . . and then wait for the booing to stop.” She straightened up, lit a Virginia Slim and offered one to Dan.
“Cigars, cigarettes, superpowers?” she asked.
“I’ll take a smoke and some imagination,” responded Dan.
Tania thought, I wonder if they still have cigarette girls?
An hour and sixteen minutes of silence later, Tania got up from her chair, walked into the couple’s bedroom, looked out a west-facing window and picked at the cuticle of her right thumb with the fingernail of her adjacent index finger.
Dan headed into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator and took out a carton of vanilla yogurt. He unsealed a baggie of raisins and nuts and sprinkled a few on top of the yogurt. He added more as he spooned his way to the bottom of the carton.
In the bedroom, Tania ran her right thumbnail under the nail of her left hand’s middle finger. She looked out the window and called to Dan.
“Wanna get a grilled cheese at Sonny’s?”
“Sure,” he answered.
Tania watched a cabbie park his taxi on Sedgwick and get out of the cab.
“How about this?” she asked from the bedroom. “You drive a cab and . . .”
Dan picked up the thread. “I park my cab outside of Sonny’s, and you’re the waitress behind the counter.”
“I’m behind the counter, and you order a grilled cheese,” called back Tania.
“Now what?”
“I start singing.”
“Singing what?” asked Dan.
“What rhymes with cheese? Bees, trees, please, trapeze.” Tania thought for a minute. “I sing the flying trapeze song but change the words. I call out to the cook.
O, O, make me the sandwich that always does please.
Not the baloney; give me gooey grilled cheese.”
Dan shouted back, “Then there’s the sound of gunfire and sirens. A guy in a gorilla suit runs into Sonny’s, looks for a place to hide and squeezes behind a stool at the end of the counter.”
“Can’t everyone see him?” asked Tania from the bedroom.
“Yeah, that’s what makes it funny,” answered Dan.
“Mmm . . . okay. Then the waitress reaches under the counter and pulls out a cigarette-girl tray.” Tania walked into the living room carrying an imaginary tray. “Cigars, cigarettes, superpowers? Cigars, cigarettes, superpowers?”
“The guy in the gorilla suit raises his hand and says, I’ll take a smoke and some powers,” said Dan.
“Regular or extra strength? asks the waitress,” said Tania.
“Both, says the guy in the gorilla suit.”
“He hands the waitress a fistful of dollars.”
“She gives the guy a cigarette and sprinkles confetti on him; he gets up from behind the stool, holds the cigarette between the index and middle finger of one hand, beats his chest with the other and roars. Then he takes off the gorilla mask and puts the cigarette in his mouth,” said Dan.
“The waitress lights it; he takes a puff and roars some more.”
Tania and Dan sat down in their chairs. Dan typed; Tania lit a Virginia Slim and offered him one.
“No thanks.” Dan swallowed and stroked his throat with his thumb and index finger. “The cigarettes are making my throat hurt.”
“That’s how you know they’re working,” said Tania.“What’s the cabbie’s name?”
Silence.
“Joe?” asked Dan. “No, that should be the cook’s name.”
“John?” asked Tania.
“Okay, John. What’s the waitress’s name?”
“Madge. What about the guy in the gorilla suit?”
“You mean Tony?”
“Yeah, Tony,” said Tania. “Madge stuffs the fistful of dollars in her bra and puts the cigarette tray under the counter.”
Silence.
“A service bell rings, and Joe calls out, grilled cheese on deck!” said Tania.
“Madge goes to the kitchen, and . . . Tony takes a seat at the counter,” said Dan.
“Madge sets down a plate in front of John and sings,” said Tania.
“O the cheese, it is gooey; the bread’s slightly burnt.
It’s yummy; that’s all I can say—”
“Then Tony says, hey, I’ll take one of those, and Madge sings,” said Dan.
“Joe, O make me another that always does please,” sang Tania.
“Damn,” interrupted Dan. “I’m dying for a grilled cheese; let’s go.”
The pair left their apartment on Dan’s bike and headed to North Avenue. He did the peddling, and Tania rode on a leopard-print-covered foam rectangle bungee-strapped onto a metal back seat.
When they got to Sonny’s, Dan chained the bike to a streetlight pole with a paper NO PARKING—TOW ZONE sign tied to it.
“Does that mean us?” asked Tania.
“I don’t think so,” said Dan.
“Well, we better move the bike; we don’t wanna come out and have it be gone.” She sneezed twice and reached into a pocket of her shorts. She pulled out a tissue and a matchbook from the Blue Parrot Cafe.
Dan secured the bicycle to a signless pole. Tania blew her nose, and Dan joined her at the entrance to Sonny’s.
“How’s this? While John’s eating his grilled cheese, a pirate with a blue parrot and a peg leg ties a NO PARKING—TOW ZONE sign to a light pole on the sidewalk next to his cab,” said Tania.
The couple entered the diner and were greeted by a blast of fluorescent light. They sat down on two green-vinyl stools.
“John finishes his sandwich, pays the check and gives Madge a tip,” said Dan.
“Yeah, he puts a quarter on the counter and says, don’t take any wooden nickels, sweetheart,” said Tania.
“Madge says, yeah, and never kick a fresh turd on a hot day.”
A counterman set two water-filled, cloudy-looking, scratched plastic drinking glasses in front of them.
“What’ll it be, folks?” he asked.
“Two gooey grilled cheeses,” they answered.
The counterman called out, “Ordering, double Jack Benny, hold the grunt!”
“How are we gonna pay for this?” asked Dan.
“Did you forget your wallet?”
“No, how are we gonna pay for the show?”
“Deliver phone books, become foot messengers, do singing telegrams, model for art classes, plant flowers and babysit cats. Oh yeah, maybe Dan Murphy or Esther or my parents’ll help us out.”
“I can’t ask my parents.”
“I know,” said Tania. “Okay, where were we? Oh yeah. Never kick a fresh turd on a hot day. John goes outside and says . . .”
“Hey, where’s my cab?” responded Dan.
“John freezes in his tracks,” added Tania. “Madge and Tony come out, stand on either side of him and sing ‘Where O Where Has My Little Dog Gone?’ but change the lyrics to . . .
Where O where has his little cab gone?
O where O where can it be?
With its brakes that screech
And shabby old seats
O where O where can it be?
Then Tony and Madge go back inside.”
Silence.
“A newspaper vendor comes onstage and says, Extra! Extra! Read all about it! Cab found missing!” said Dan.
“John comes back to life, buys a paper and rifles through it,” said Tania.
“Hey, there’s nothing in here about a missing cab, says John.”
Tania answered as the vendor. “That’s because it’s extra.”
“Well, where is it? asks John.”
“The vendor points to his hat,” said Tania. “I keep it under here.”
“John lunges at the vendor; the vendor jerks back his head,” said Dan. “Not so fast, says the vendor. It’ll cost you a dollar.”
The counterman set down two plates in front of Dan and Tania.
“Double Jack Benny, hold the grunt,” he said.
The couple took bites of their grilled-cheese sandwiches; Tania turned to Dan and sang.
“O the cheese, it is gooey; the bread’s slightly burnt.
It’s yummy; that’s all I can say.”
The pair finished their sandwiches, then dipped their fries in ketchup.
“John gives the vendor a dollar; the vendor pulls out the extra edition from under his hat, hands it to John and John reads it out loud,” said Tania. “Cab missing, and no one knows where it is.”
“John crumples up the sheet and throws it on the ground,” added Dan. “Then he sits down on the curb and covers his face with his hands.”
Silence.
“The vendor exits, and the pirate with the blue parrot and the peg leg comes into Sonny’s, sits down at the counter next to Tony and holds the parrot up to Tony’s ear.”
“Does the parrot have a name?”
“Yes . . . it’s . . . Seymour . . . Seymour Buttz,” said Tania. “Tony listens to what Seymour Buttz has to say. Then the pirate and the parrot leave.”
“Tony gets up, walks outside and taps John on the shoulder. He says, hey, kid, a little bird told me you lost your cab,” said Dan.
“Then Tony says, I can get it back, but it’ll cost you five hundred bucks,” said Tania.
“John says, I don’t have five hundred bucks,” said Dan.
“Madge comes outside with a ukulele and hands it to Tony,” said Tania. “She says, listen up, Johnny; this is for your own good—hit it, Tony. Madge dances the Charleston, and Tony sings.
Though April showers may come your way,
They bring the flowers that bloom in May.
So if it’s raining, have no regrets—
Tony pauses. Madge shouts out, no regrets, kid. DID YOU HEAR THAT? NO REGRETS. Tony continues.
Because it isn’t raining rain, you know, it’s raining violets.
And where you see clouds upon the hills—
Tony pauses. Madge shouts out, don’t panic, kid, DON’T PANIC! Tony continues.
You soon will see crowds of daffodils.
Madge stops dancing; she and Tony harmonize,
So keep on looking for a bluebird
And listening for its song
Whenever April showers come along.”
“Tony and Madge go back into Sonny’s,” said Dan.
“Then John sings,” said Tania.
“So keep on looking for a bluebird
And listening for its song . . .
He cups his ear with his hand like he’s listening for the blue bird’s song.”
Silence.
“Then the pirate comes up to John and pushes a whipped cream pie into his face,” said Dan.
“Is Seymour Buttz with him?” asked Tania.
“Yeah. Seymour Buttz says . . . ?”
Silence.
“MWAHAHAHA,” squawked Tania. “MWAHAHAHA.”
The couple left Sonny’s; Dan got on the front seat of the bike, and Tania hopped on the back. He turned to her.
“I feel like I’ve got a hot dog stuck in my throat.”
