yo mama
I watch as you almost trip down the stairs, when I tell you your fly is undone. You cautiously turn around and attempt to look threatening, squinting your hazel eyes pointedly at me.
‘Teddy, this is NO time for jokes’ you say, still eyeing me suspiciously.
‘Les, easy, I just didn’t want you to get caught by the security cameras with your pants down’ I reply, adding ‘Unless you want a repeat of ‘93?’
you chuckle as you put our briefcase between your knees and slowly zip up your fly. No no, I could see you didn’t want it to happen again. One time was enough.
Replacing our briefcase from between your knees to your left hand, you fix your collar up, tighten your tie and look back reproachfully at me.
‘What?’
you never seem to have the ability to lose your illusion of perfection. You gotta have everything perfect before we pull anything. Right now, before we enter that door, a million things are rushing through your head
did we bring everything…hows my hair… did we wear the right tone of grey today…did I remember to put my rollex on… does Tteddy look better than me... will there be a lady in the room, he’ll get distracted… I wonder if…
the balloon of tension is punctured by your abrupt accusation.
‘you didn’t iron your shirt. Do you think that the owner of…’
“Lesley relax man, how many times have we done this?’
‘ twice’
I blink and look at you.
‘it was more of a rhetorical question.’
‘ok ok ok, you look good’ you say to me, though more of as a reassurance to yourself.
We stop in front of a corridor, with a large wooden door at the end. There are gold italic letters, reading Conference Room and we see the silhouette of the four executives we’re meeting behind the opaque glass wall. I didn’t realise but it took us almost a month to prepare for this and it is either going to be brilliant or ridiculously unsuccessful. And that would suck. It would suck a lot. Unless, of course it was as bad as our first time, which both sucked and blew at the same time. Physics for ya.
‘there’s the door.’ (You will never lose your Captain Obvious trait). ‘right…’ the words slowly leave your mouth.
‘ no its left..’ my joke sprang from my mouth and came hurtling down and flopped, dead at the bottom of reality. (I will never lose my Captain Uncalled for trait). I get a look of pained exasperation from you and I attempt to save myself by talking about business. Always a good save.
‘yeah the door’s left and yes I know what to do. We gon’ do this like it was as easy as peeing on your neighbours rug’ I grin, knowing you can’t resist loosening up at that line. You remember why im your best friend. You remember why we do this, and most of all, you remember your neighbour and his rug.
‘Teddy, you are a fucken moron.’
You always did love complimenting me.
‘lets go boy, all for one and one for the money.’
Still chuckling, you start walking in the direction of the door. I follow with a smile on my face. I got a good feeling about this. Real good. Almost as good looking as the female who opens the door to let us in.
_________________
we exit, forty minutes later, fifty grand richer and sixty times happier than when we entered the American Express building. you and me strut down Liverpool st, barely able to sustain ourselves. The thrill of having pulled one of our major games, which left us with twenty five grand each is almost as good as realising you have an extra hour to sleep when you wake up. Or, even better, its like finding money on the footpath. Except instead of a lousy two dollars, or if you’re lucky a FIVE, its Twenty five thousand. I start to grin again and look at you. you seem to be in a little trance, whistling a tune which oddly sounds like Hit Me Baby One More Time. a little out of character for you but I assume its because you’ve gone into a lapse from reality, inundated with too much thought about the money we just made. I keep watching, slightly amused, as you almost start to hop to the tune as we head to the Three Wise Monkeys for a celebratory drink. Haha you start looking like a dick skipping along the road. I laugh out loud and sometimes sanity takes vacation time on me so I start doing it too. We continue looking like loonies all along the busy Sydney streets, full of business men and women all out on their lunchbreak, eyeing us with exsufflicate stares. We finally arrive at our derstination with all the joy in the world, and im ready to discuss our next big plan. We order. I take a Sex on the Beach and you stick to you usual Martini.
‘ we gotta take it easy for a little bit now. Or we’ll trip over our own tails. Too much success is never a good thing.’ You continue your lecture, gently stabbing my good mood away.
‘we kinda have to lay low for a while. Those American express bastards will realise sooner or later. Expecially that girl.. what was her name?’
how could you forget, I think.
‘elektra’ I answer. The name strikes a fire as I say it, igniting the air with energy. You raise an eyebrow.
‘teddy, no’
‘what?’
‘you know what.’
I knew.
‘hahaha. Yeah im gonna tap the girl we pulled a grift on.’ I look at you, then with indignation add ‘ whatta you think I am? I don’t even kiss and tell’
‘no, that’s right, cause you fuck and brag.’
You got me there.
‘at least I get some then’
ooo, I went there. Your one touchy subject. Its not like you’re not good looking (im not being queer here - just honest, guys do that more than they admit) but you’re not exactly a HIT when it comes to the ladies. You’re angry now, and you resort to a very mature, sophisticated, not to mention witty way of settling this and making yourself feel better;
‘fuck you’
‘fuck you’
‘fuck you’
‘ok Lesley, fuck you harder.’
…
Silence is golden.
____________________
What I love between you and I is the fact that the air never seems to stay hostile between us. Its like leaving a dead monkey and a vulture in the same room. You know that sooner or later they’ll come together. That’s me and you summed up in a simile. Except perhaps I shouldv’e thought of a less gruesome example. No time for that now though, as I save you from a couple of bruises as we step outside the bar and you trip and almost stack it. another one of your highly acclaimed abilities is to be the man who provides a Kodak moment at least once every week. Last week, your tie got caught in an elevator door. Don’t ask me how you managed that, and how you managed to take it off in time before choking, but at least you got rid of the tie. It was a shit tie.
‘thanks ted.’
Wow, you actually sound genuine.
‘it’s raning’ you add, looking around. Thanks captain.
‘yeah, rain should know better than to fall where Lesley Miller is going to walk. He might slip.’
‘yeah same way as Theodore Bear should know better than to be such a fucken smart arse. My hand might slip.’
I stop walking and you catch up to me in a couple of paces. You made a half decent call. I could say something patronising but instead I choose to change the subject.
‘hey man, d’you have any cash on you? I only have a coupke of dollars and I need to pay for petrol on the way back.’
‘i’ll check.’ You reach into the inside of your black, pinstriped Armani suit, withdrawing a modest black leather wallet. Peering inside, you sneeze twice, close your wallet and look back up at me shaking your head.
‘ I only got a twenny.’
‘cool. I only need that much anyway, that’l be enough.’
‘nah sorry I need it.’ you tell me slightly frowning. I wonder what for, you always have cash on you and you always let me borrow it.
‘why?’ my question injects even more unease into you.
‘cause.. I need it.’
sometimes, I swear, I can’t tell the difference between a brick wall and you. an idea crosses my mind. It mustv’e shown on my face, because you inquired (ever so nicely) what the fuck was that smile for.
‘we’re pulling the twenties.’
My answer doesn’t amuse you.
‘fuck no, not today. Thank you kindly.’
Your delicate response was not unanticipated for.
The twenties are the easiest and oldest trick in the book, but for some unexplained reason, you always get nervous. Like a school girl in front of a boy she likes. Except you’re not cute.
‘yes today. There’s a 7/11 up the road. I need the cash Les.’
‘havent you had enough confidence for one day?’
‘theres nothing that happens enough in life. confidence is one. I could always go more of that. Cash is another. When you combine the two.. you get…well…’
I stop and think about it. what do you get?
‘you get us.’ You finished my sentence.
‘you get us.’ I repeated, satisfied with the answer. ‘this is the last time for another couple of months, ok?’
you rolled your eyes, licked your upper lip (your signature show of frustration) and as you sighed you walked past me, towards the convenience store.
The rain started to fall harder and I ran to catch up, reaching you at a red light. I looked at a puddle and decidedly was convinced that puddle is a queer word when my pocket vibrated.
My fingers found the smooth plastic surface of my LG phone in my back pocket and my eyes found a message from an unknown number. I decided I’d deal with it later. The message had two words.
Call me.
_____________________
We walked into the 7/11 like we owned the joint and as you walked towards the slurpee section I went straight to the register, brushing off the rain drops of my grey suit.
‘good afternoon sir.’ A boy of about 18 was behind the till.
Easy.
‘hey, how you going?’ I asked, in that not caring tone that almost everyone uses, and the one you may use when talking to your mother in law. Not that I have one.
‘im good. You?
I think about it.
‘young man’ (yes I know it sounds condescending, when I’m only 22 myself) ‘today, I couldn’t be happier. Unless of course, you told me how much this piece of gum was.’
I drop a packet of Extra peppermint gum in front of him.
‘a dollar’
they always are.
‘a dollar?’ I inquire with a raised eye brow while looking through my wallet. I make a show of going through my coin department and not finding anything. Finally I pull out your twnty from my wallet and say ‘jeez. I swear I had a dollar in here before. Hey les! Dyou have a dollar I can borrow?’
I ask casually, as if not knowing the answer.
‘nah sorry, got no cash on me.’ Your standard reply is a bit flat today, but that’s ok, this kid won’t even know what hit him.
‘don’t worry bout it, I guess I’ll just break my twenty.’
I sulkily hand over the twenny to the boy behind the register, pocket the gum and wait for my change. You walk over as I’m getting my change.’
‘nineteen dollars change’ he announces the number as if in a racecourse.
‘thanks’ I tell him lethargically and we start walking out the shop.
You stop.
‘hang on, I found one.’ You proclaim, drawing a dollar coin from your pocket halfway out the door. There is a young girl buying a Cosmopolitan back at the register. I take the dollar and briskly walk back, restraining that smile which wants to explode all over my face.
‘hey mate, sorry to interrupt you, but I found my dollar. Can I have my twenty back?’
he didn’t even think twice. Flashing an apologetic smile towards the girl, he takes my dollar. Opens the register. Takes out a red note which was my twenty and hands it back to me. Barely looking. His eyes are on her and he continues his previous sale. I turn my back and let the smile creep over my face. You are standing outside, back to the wall. one leg up against it. in between your fingers is a slim menthol cigarette.
‘I thought you quit’ I half inquire half state.
‘I thought you were over ripping off convinence stores by the age of 15’
‘old habits die hard buddy’ I try to justify.
‘youre telling me’ you reply, with a hint of accusation.
So does the habit to make easy money.
KAY to the TEE
‘Teddy, this is NO time for jokes’ you say, still eyeing me suspiciously.
‘Les, easy, I just didn’t want you to get caught by the security cameras with your pants down’ I reply, adding ‘Unless you want a repeat of ‘93?’
you chuckle as you put our briefcase between your knees and slowly zip up your fly. No no, I could see you didn’t want it to happen again. One time was enough.
Replacing our briefcase from between your knees to your left hand, you fix your collar up, tighten your tie and look back reproachfully at me.
‘What?’
you never seem to have the ability to lose your illusion of perfection. You gotta have everything perfect before we pull anything. Right now, before we enter that door, a million things are rushing through your head
did we bring everything…hows my hair… did we wear the right tone of grey today…did I remember to put my rollex on… does Tteddy look better than me... will there be a lady in the room, he’ll get distracted… I wonder if…
the balloon of tension is punctured by your abrupt accusation.
‘you didn’t iron your shirt. Do you think that the owner of…’
“Lesley relax man, how many times have we done this?’
‘ twice’
I blink and look at you.
‘it was more of a rhetorical question.’
‘ok ok ok, you look good’ you say to me, though more of as a reassurance to yourself.
We stop in front of a corridor, with a large wooden door at the end. There are gold italic letters, reading Conference Room and we see the silhouette of the four executives we’re meeting behind the opaque glass wall. I didn’t realise but it took us almost a month to prepare for this and it is either going to be brilliant or ridiculously unsuccessful. And that would suck. It would suck a lot. Unless, of course it was as bad as our first time, which both sucked and blew at the same time. Physics for ya.
‘there’s the door.’ (You will never lose your Captain Obvious trait). ‘right…’ the words slowly leave your mouth.
‘ no its left..’ my joke sprang from my mouth and came hurtling down and flopped, dead at the bottom of reality. (I will never lose my Captain Uncalled for trait). I get a look of pained exasperation from you and I attempt to save myself by talking about business. Always a good save.
‘yeah the door’s left and yes I know what to do. We gon’ do this like it was as easy as peeing on your neighbours rug’ I grin, knowing you can’t resist loosening up at that line. You remember why im your best friend. You remember why we do this, and most of all, you remember your neighbour and his rug.
‘Teddy, you are a fucken moron.’
You always did love complimenting me.
‘lets go boy, all for one and one for the money.’
Still chuckling, you start walking in the direction of the door. I follow with a smile on my face. I got a good feeling about this. Real good. Almost as good looking as the female who opens the door to let us in.
_________________
we exit, forty minutes later, fifty grand richer and sixty times happier than when we entered the American Express building. you and me strut down Liverpool st, barely able to sustain ourselves. The thrill of having pulled one of our major games, which left us with twenty five grand each is almost as good as realising you have an extra hour to sleep when you wake up. Or, even better, its like finding money on the footpath. Except instead of a lousy two dollars, or if you’re lucky a FIVE, its Twenty five thousand. I start to grin again and look at you. you seem to be in a little trance, whistling a tune which oddly sounds like Hit Me Baby One More Time. a little out of character for you but I assume its because you’ve gone into a lapse from reality, inundated with too much thought about the money we just made. I keep watching, slightly amused, as you almost start to hop to the tune as we head to the Three Wise Monkeys for a celebratory drink. Haha you start looking like a dick skipping along the road. I laugh out loud and sometimes sanity takes vacation time on me so I start doing it too. We continue looking like loonies all along the busy Sydney streets, full of business men and women all out on their lunchbreak, eyeing us with exsufflicate stares. We finally arrive at our derstination with all the joy in the world, and im ready to discuss our next big plan. We order. I take a Sex on the Beach and you stick to you usual Martini.
‘ we gotta take it easy for a little bit now. Or we’ll trip over our own tails. Too much success is never a good thing.’ You continue your lecture, gently stabbing my good mood away.
‘we kinda have to lay low for a while. Those American express bastards will realise sooner or later. Expecially that girl.. what was her name?’
how could you forget, I think.
‘elektra’ I answer. The name strikes a fire as I say it, igniting the air with energy. You raise an eyebrow.
‘teddy, no’
‘what?’
‘you know what.’
I knew.
‘hahaha. Yeah im gonna tap the girl we pulled a grift on.’ I look at you, then with indignation add ‘ whatta you think I am? I don’t even kiss and tell’
‘no, that’s right, cause you fuck and brag.’
You got me there.
‘at least I get some then’
ooo, I went there. Your one touchy subject. Its not like you’re not good looking (im not being queer here - just honest, guys do that more than they admit) but you’re not exactly a HIT when it comes to the ladies. You’re angry now, and you resort to a very mature, sophisticated, not to mention witty way of settling this and making yourself feel better;
‘fuck you’
‘fuck you’
‘fuck you’
‘ok Lesley, fuck you harder.’
…
Silence is golden.
____________________
What I love between you and I is the fact that the air never seems to stay hostile between us. Its like leaving a dead monkey and a vulture in the same room. You know that sooner or later they’ll come together. That’s me and you summed up in a simile. Except perhaps I shouldv’e thought of a less gruesome example. No time for that now though, as I save you from a couple of bruises as we step outside the bar and you trip and almost stack it. another one of your highly acclaimed abilities is to be the man who provides a Kodak moment at least once every week. Last week, your tie got caught in an elevator door. Don’t ask me how you managed that, and how you managed to take it off in time before choking, but at least you got rid of the tie. It was a shit tie.
‘thanks ted.’
Wow, you actually sound genuine.
‘it’s raning’ you add, looking around. Thanks captain.
‘yeah, rain should know better than to fall where Lesley Miller is going to walk. He might slip.’
‘yeah same way as Theodore Bear should know better than to be such a fucken smart arse. My hand might slip.’
I stop walking and you catch up to me in a couple of paces. You made a half decent call. I could say something patronising but instead I choose to change the subject.
‘hey man, d’you have any cash on you? I only have a coupke of dollars and I need to pay for petrol on the way back.’
‘i’ll check.’ You reach into the inside of your black, pinstriped Armani suit, withdrawing a modest black leather wallet. Peering inside, you sneeze twice, close your wallet and look back up at me shaking your head.
‘ I only got a twenny.’
‘cool. I only need that much anyway, that’l be enough.’
‘nah sorry I need it.’ you tell me slightly frowning. I wonder what for, you always have cash on you and you always let me borrow it.
‘why?’ my question injects even more unease into you.
‘cause.. I need it.’
sometimes, I swear, I can’t tell the difference between a brick wall and you. an idea crosses my mind. It mustv’e shown on my face, because you inquired (ever so nicely) what the fuck was that smile for.
‘we’re pulling the twenties.’
My answer doesn’t amuse you.
‘fuck no, not today. Thank you kindly.’
Your delicate response was not unanticipated for.
The twenties are the easiest and oldest trick in the book, but for some unexplained reason, you always get nervous. Like a school girl in front of a boy she likes. Except you’re not cute.
‘yes today. There’s a 7/11 up the road. I need the cash Les.’
‘havent you had enough confidence for one day?’
‘theres nothing that happens enough in life. confidence is one. I could always go more of that. Cash is another. When you combine the two.. you get…well…’
I stop and think about it. what do you get?
‘you get us.’ You finished my sentence.
‘you get us.’ I repeated, satisfied with the answer. ‘this is the last time for another couple of months, ok?’
you rolled your eyes, licked your upper lip (your signature show of frustration) and as you sighed you walked past me, towards the convenience store.
The rain started to fall harder and I ran to catch up, reaching you at a red light. I looked at a puddle and decidedly was convinced that puddle is a queer word when my pocket vibrated.
My fingers found the smooth plastic surface of my LG phone in my back pocket and my eyes found a message from an unknown number. I decided I’d deal with it later. The message had two words.
Call me.
_____________________
We walked into the 7/11 like we owned the joint and as you walked towards the slurpee section I went straight to the register, brushing off the rain drops of my grey suit.
‘good afternoon sir.’ A boy of about 18 was behind the till.
Easy.
‘hey, how you going?’ I asked, in that not caring tone that almost everyone uses, and the one you may use when talking to your mother in law. Not that I have one.
‘im good. You?
I think about it.
‘young man’ (yes I know it sounds condescending, when I’m only 22 myself) ‘today, I couldn’t be happier. Unless of course, you told me how much this piece of gum was.’
I drop a packet of Extra peppermint gum in front of him.
‘a dollar’
they always are.
‘a dollar?’ I inquire with a raised eye brow while looking through my wallet. I make a show of going through my coin department and not finding anything. Finally I pull out your twnty from my wallet and say ‘jeez. I swear I had a dollar in here before. Hey les! Dyou have a dollar I can borrow?’
I ask casually, as if not knowing the answer.
‘nah sorry, got no cash on me.’ Your standard reply is a bit flat today, but that’s ok, this kid won’t even know what hit him.
‘don’t worry bout it, I guess I’ll just break my twenty.’
I sulkily hand over the twenny to the boy behind the register, pocket the gum and wait for my change. You walk over as I’m getting my change.’
‘nineteen dollars change’ he announces the number as if in a racecourse.
‘thanks’ I tell him lethargically and we start walking out the shop.
You stop.
‘hang on, I found one.’ You proclaim, drawing a dollar coin from your pocket halfway out the door. There is a young girl buying a Cosmopolitan back at the register. I take the dollar and briskly walk back, restraining that smile which wants to explode all over my face.
‘hey mate, sorry to interrupt you, but I found my dollar. Can I have my twenty back?’
he didn’t even think twice. Flashing an apologetic smile towards the girl, he takes my dollar. Opens the register. Takes out a red note which was my twenty and hands it back to me. Barely looking. His eyes are on her and he continues his previous sale. I turn my back and let the smile creep over my face. You are standing outside, back to the wall. one leg up against it. in between your fingers is a slim menthol cigarette.
‘I thought you quit’ I half inquire half state.
‘I thought you were over ripping off convinence stores by the age of 15’
‘old habits die hard buddy’ I try to justify.
‘youre telling me’ you reply, with a hint of accusation.
So does the habit to make easy money.
KAY to the TEE