She Who Is Meek and Mild opens the odd-looking missive, redolent of chicken fat and mulehide, then wipes her hand on her t-shirt absentmindedly, not noticing that it paints a long streak of grease across the front. Her eyes widen as she reads. She must
reach Rambi immediately and warn her!
Rushing to the phone, she prays that her embarrassingly aggressive and assertive alter ego is wearing her cell phone in her thong...
A rush of relief flows through her as she hears the click of the connection being made.
"You just got a terrible letter that you need to know about!" she gasped out. "Are you on the plane yet?"
"No I'm in the Admiral's Club. Read it to me." What has the Timorous and Tepid One gotten herself in a tizzy over this time? A garbled strangely accented message followed from one Eemelda yadayada who seemed upset about some new kind of love doughnuts. Rambi shrugged. Probably some investment gimmick for Krispy Kreme.
"I'll take care of it when I get back from Paraguay, "she says dismissively.
"Paraguay!!" She pulls the phone away from her perfect and delicate shellpink ear hurriedly. "Why Paraguay!! You don't know Spanish!"
"Of course I do. Tequila. Chili con carne. Gratias. Bien."
"So you can order dinner, oh , that's great! Can you say, Where's the American Embassy?"
She sighs patiently. "Su cochinito el mas lindo, senorita."
"You just told me my pig is very pretty."
"Oh-well-I was just thinking about that pig. He was a nice one. I have to go. There seems to be a problem with my travel outfit." She slammed the phone shut and turned to the agent who was frowning at her thong. What was his problem? It was a Chanel.
"Uh, ma'am, is that what you're wearing on the plane?"
She fixed her blindingly-blue, dark-lashed eyes on his, "Yes, it is. Is there a problem?"
His eyes wandered around the room and came to rest on the d‚colletage of her bolero. "No, ma'am!," he muttered, breathlessly.
"Good." She turned and strode out to the gate where the attendant behind the counter gave her her boarding pass without looking up. As she marched down the jetway, the agent glanced at her, did a double take and began to call out, but her partner grabbed her arm.
"Don't you know who that is?" she said, and pointed to the passenger manifest.
"Oh my God! Was that-Rambi? The one Mr. Crandall called us about?"
"Yes-give her anything she wants."
"But-but she has no last name! And no clothes!"
"So give her a blanket. And make sure they call her Ms. Rambi."
Rambi entered the first class section and found 3B where the flight attendant offered to take her jacket. As Rambi unbuttoned the tight bolero, it dawned on the attendant that there was nothing underneath. "Oh,. my, um, you know, it's going to get very chilly today in the cabin and um-maybe you might like to keep that on for a bit!" she gasped. The elderly man in 3A booed. The young executive in 3C threw his empty coffee cup at her. A few napkins and a bag of peanuts struck her in the back.
Taking her Essential Spanish Phrases for Tourists from her briefcase, and silencing with a ferocious glare the attendant's gasp of horror at the sight of the Uzi , she sat, buckled her seatbelt, and began to study.
Preferiria una habitacion sin alacranes.
Yes-that was definitely a must know. She did not want scorpions in her bed.
Ah---here was a good one!
Ojala que enormes armadillos copulen en tus intestinos!
Yes ---she would have no problem communicating with the arrogant Juan Yadayada SiSenor.... |
