It is early evening and Poindexter wants to go to Fibro R Us before the store closes. Norah seems a bit indifferent to the idea, yet is in the bathroom 'fixing her face' for an appearance in public. He stands at the window and peers out as his own brownstone across the street. He can clearly see his telescope poking through a gap in his drapes. 'No more spying,' he thinks. 'Just some minor tweaking, and Noah Fairchild will be mine forever...."
"What about the twins...Destiny and Dakotah?" he hears Norah say. "We can't just LEAVE them here alone!"
He turns around and she is standing behind him. He takes her cold, clammy hand. "Norah Fairchild...there are no twins in your bedroom. Cabbage...bowling ball. The twins belong to your sister, Mysty."
She looks confused, as though she had never heard this before. "Oh," she sighs. "I AM still my own grandmother though...right?"
"But yes! And please...bask in this incredible accomplishment...not many people are their own grandmother! Now, straighten your Snuggie, put on your cashmere sock cap and let's go find you a new chair."
She adjusts the sleeves on her Snuggie, picks up her sock cap off the floor and pulls it down over her ears. 'Okay...let's do it," she says.
Organ music, a quick commercial for Enzyte and when we return they are standing at the curb, trying to hail a taxi cab...in the rain.
Four cabs roar by before one stops. Soaking wet and shivering, Poindexter opens the door. Norah hunches over and tries to slide in but she is overcome with a cramp in her thigh. "Owie, Owie...OWIE!" she screams.
The taxi cab driver (who looks like Fabio, as in sopa operas even bit part players are incredibly handsome) peers through the glass shield that separates him from his customers and yells...'Fibromites...no fibromites allowed...get out!..Can't you read?" (he points to a large cardboard sign on the plexi galss that clearly states "No Fibromites...EVER."
Poindexter shoves Norah into the back seat, then jumps in himself. "We are not fibromites...please take us to..." (Organ music please) "Fibro R Us...we are looking for a chair for this woman's grandmother. (not a lie as Norah IS indeed her OWN grandmother).
The Fabio clone sneers. "Sorry, but I know a fibromite when I see one. Just look at you! It's 80 degrees out and you are both dressed like you are in the northern tip of Siberia. This...(he points to Norah) has a cramp in her leg already and she just got in the car! I'm not going to listen to that whining for a half hour. Furthermore...YOU fibromites...you fall asleep on route and I can never wake you up...you leave personal items in the crack of the seat...you forget your wallets...you want to make about ten 'pee stops'...you always want me to crank up the heater...you forget where your going...The list goes on and on. Just get out...I'm in this for the $5.00 per foot I charge...not the migraine."
Poindexter leans forward and speaks through the hole in the glass. "This lovely lady is Norah Fairchild...The Lanicane Woman. Surely you can make an exception."
Fabio's jaw drops. "For that pierceful itching everywhere except the eyes?" he whispers.
"Exactly." Poindexter replies.
Fabio looks Poindexter straight in the eye. "Okay. But...no stops...especially at Shifty Eddie's on 84th street. What IS it with all you fibromites and your deep fried Milky Way Bars? The last time I went there I had to double park and someone stole my wheel covers and headlights...also...show me your wallet, right now."
Poindexter obliges with little difficulty.
"And furthermore...don't expect me to sit in the parking lot and wait for you to hump, gimp and hitch your way through the store." Fabio continues. "You'll have to get another cab." (he tilts his head back and laughs hysterically, as no fellow cab driver he knows will cater to a fibromite).
The cab takes off at a mere 80 miles an hour.
Poindexter looks over at Norah. She is sleeping. A small dribble of drool is sliding down her chin. He softly wipes it away with the sleeve of his NY Giants Snuggie. Oh...she is soooo beautiful. He leans his head back against the seat. The 'swish swish' of the windshield wipers are hypnotizing. He fights to keep his eyes open. He focuses on the sound of the meter clicking away at $5.00 per foot. Poindexter likes tactile sounds...like high heels on a marble floor. Like the clip clop of horses hooves against a hard pavement. Tap dancers...the metal cleats slapping the crap out of a slab of tile flooring. Just listen to the meter...he tells himself. But alas...he falls asleep. After all...he IS a fibromite.
Organ music..fade to black and a commercial for 'old lady, chin whisker remover'.
fibro, menieres disease, RLS, anxiety disorder, disc compression, scoliosis, spinal stenosis TMJ Meds: Lexapro and valium