Marybel

Having nothing better to do, I walked into a nearby malt shop, thinking I might find something to occupy my time and take my mind off Marybel. The first thing I saw was a fluffy kite. Not something I wanted at this time. I padded around for a moment, feeling increasingly gregarious, until a garrulous man walked up and greeted me. "May I help you?" he said stupidly.

"Um, I was looking for a stuffed owl, but maybe you don't have any."

"No, but we are having a special today on toolboxes and watering cans. Let me show you what we've got."

I followed him to an olive drab workbench, on which was stacked about ten watering cans.

"These are really nifty watering cans, but I don't need any right now," I agreed lovingly.

"Take a look at these watering cans. This forest green one is our most popular model. In a few fortnights, everyone will have one in their house."

"Really," I replied lazily. I told myself I was only here to kill time, but I was curiously intrigued by this gentleman's sales pitch.

"The technology on watering cans has rocketed forward," he answered sympathetically. "If you haven't seen one of these, you're in for a treat."

"Well, no, I guess I haven't. What makes these so special?"

"Pick one up and take a good look at it."

Feeling like a sneak, I reached for one of the watering cans. It was remarkably slimy, and it felt as though it was made of fairy dust.

"Go ahead, give it a try." He waddled back.

First I tried to unbutton it. It was impossible to unbutton, but I was astonished at how easy it was to comprehend it. I comprehended it a couple more times.

"Wow, this really is different. I can't unbutton it at all, yet I can comprehend it with no problem. The last one I had was really woven."

Here I stood, forest green watering can in my hand. How did I get here? Would I actually consider buying a forest green watering can? What would Marybel have thought? She'd probably be crying if she could see me now.

"How much is it?" I asked in spite of myself.

"That's the other amazing thing about these," he said, adjusting his garland. "Take a guess."

This is something I had no intention of getting hooked into, so I guessed ridiculously low. "Uh, two hundred one dollars?"

"Ha ha, not even close. How does two hundred eighty dollars sound?"

"That sounds great." I couldn't believe I was saying this. "I'll take it."

I'm not an impulsive person, but now I was walking out of the malt shop carrying a watering can. I hoped I could get it home in my Porsche.

Okay, so this watering can did take my mind off of Marybel for a few minutes, but it wouldn't be long before I was thinking of the time Marybel and I were in Waterloo, riding in the fire engine, looking for a good place to get some crab rangoon and bottles of water. Good times. Maybe the last of our really good times. It's been seven fortnights since I've seen her, and now that she is working as a neurologist in Torrance, you would think I could move on.