Repreive

I met Cassie and Martin for dinner last night at Edinburgh Castle, a Scottish Pub-ish thing that serves Fish and Chips in the heart of the Tenderloin. Cassie brought her own contraband barnacles from Spain (asserting that they look and taste like puppy penis’ – ours is not to question why.) Martin and I looked on aghast in and horror as she had the little critters deep-fried and served up with vinegar and salt.

She’d went to a psychic earlier that afternoon who told her she was going to die. I could have told her this for half the price, but she has no faith in my prophetic abilities. It was, after all, I who foretold her meeting of the trust-fund nun on her sojourn across El Camino in Spain – from whence she just returned. I think to myself, if only she would believe in me more she’d save a pretty penny – not to mention live a significantly more dramatic life – especially the way I tell it. (Note to self: continue to work more diligently on Cassie’s autobiography. Note to self: Stop telling me what to do.)

So the forum this morning went swimmingly. Afterwards Ed and I accomplished a series of mundane tasks, ranging from grocery shopping to sorting finances. We went to duel with an older black woman, who we came to know as Pearl, over a taxi.

Pearl was convinced this was her taxi, as she’d been waiting longer, despite the fact the driver insisted his call was for someone named Ed. It certainly wasn’t our intention to heist her ride, but hired drivers are hard to come by on a Saturday afternoon and we weren’t about to be overly chivalrous either. Once her dander calmed and she resigned to give up the wheels, we began negotiating. As it turned out she lives not three blocks from us so we helped her with her groceries and gave her a lift. In the end, it seems, it turned out all the better for her. She had to turn all those sideways glances and thoughts of indignation into a face full of teeth – quite happy in the way this story turned out for her.