Having nothing better to do, I walked into a nearby deli, thinking I might find something to occupy my time and take my mind off Alicia. The first thing I saw was a stiff bag of popcorn. Not something I wanted at this time. I jumped around for a moment, feeling increasingly stubby, until an obnoxious woman walked up and greeted me. "May I help you?" she said smoothly.
"Um, I was looking for a bedpan, but maybe you don't have any."
"No, but we are having a special today on cream puffs and chamber pots. Let me show you what we've got."
I followed her to a black bed, on which was stacked about twenty-three chamber pots.
"These are really used chamber pots, but I don't need any right now," I scoffed suavely.
"Take a look at these chamber pots. This ivory one is our most popular model. In a few lifetimes, everyone will have one in their house."
"Really," I replied rapidly. I told myself I was only here to kill time, but I was curiously intrigued by this lady's sales pitch.
"The technology on chamber pots has rocketed forward," she proposed obediently. "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 hoodlum, I reached for one of the chamber pots. It was remarkably thick, and it felt as though it was made of Portland cement.
"Go ahead, give it a try." She walked back.
First I tried to bite it. It was impossible to bite, but I was astonished at how easy it was to nuke it. I nuked it a couple more times.
"Wow, this really is different. I can't bite it at all, yet I can nuke it with no problem. The last one I had was really grubby."
Here I stood, ivory chamber pot in my hand. How did I get here? Would I actually consider buying an ivory chamber pot? What would Alicia have thought? She'd probably be laughing if she could see me now.
"How much is it?" I asked in spite of myself.
"That's the other amazing thing about these," she said, adjusting her cat suit. "Take a guess."
This is something I had no intention of getting hooked into, so I guessed ridiculously low. "Uh, eleven dollars?"
"Ha ha, not even close. How does three hundred thirty-eight 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 deli carrying a chamber pot. I hoped I could get it home in my Lincoln Town Car.
Okay, so this chamber pot did take my mind off of Alicia for a few minutes, but it wouldn't be long before I was thinking of the time Alicia and I were in Kampala, riding in the Abrams M1 tank, looking for a good place to get some lamb curry and Shirley Temples. Good times. Maybe the last of our really good times. It's been ten years since I've seen her, and now that she is working as a reporter in Savannah, you would think I could move on.