A couple of years ago, sitting at Starbucks outside patio, I became "aware" of a feathered Mafioso I eventually named EDGAR.
So weird and varied have been our adventures, I began writing about them.
This is only the latest installment in what I like to call: THE EDGAR CHRONICLES
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EDGAR COLLUDES with the ROOSKIES
I sit carefully selecting which words to use--there are pitfalls to my tale.
2 Chinese ladies are problematic for a writer who is an Olde White Male.
What if I accidentally stereotype? I dare not!
With your kind permission, I will change the sex and country of origin of my 2 characters to avoid going off the rails.
Instead, this story is transformed into 2 *Russian* guys!
Ha! I can’t possibly go wrong...can I?
________
The Setting: Starbucks (of course.)
I’m seated close to the window with a full view of my bicycle, the sidewalk and alfresco tables and chairs. It's a patio.
Munitio 9mm earbuds are stuck inside my ears like bolts in Frankenstein’s neck.
My latest “mixtape” fires up and waves of serenity soothe my interior.
Now--this much you need to know before I continue...
1. Edgar will arrive and I’ll catch him messing with my bike.
2. A middle-aged *Russian guy* wearing a body-hugging cheongsam is sitting at the next table in a loud cell phone conversation.
Okay? Got that?
We begin.
My black-feathered Nemesis sees that I have him under surveillance.
Lately, since it’s too hot for me outside, I’ve neglected to feed Edgar his favorite cashews
(or anything else) a few times.
What can I say?--it’s a tough world.
He’s pissed.
Naturally, this requires teaching me a lesson.
Edgar has been ruining my genuine leather bike seat with his weapon of choice: bird beak. When I catch him--he stops, nonchalantly gazing about, the very picture of innocence.
Off to my right, the loud and strange (to my ears) accent of the excited *Russian guy* penetrates my consciousness. My sleeve is tugged.
*The Russian guy* is standing next to me with *his* phone extended toward my face.
“You help me--no?”
“Um, I help you--yes.”
“My friend lost. Can’t find me. Need directions. You help--no?”
“I help--yes.”
_____
Next thing you know, I’m pressing the *Russian guy's* smartphone against my dumb ear trying to sort out the *Russian* voice on the other end. Believe me: NOT easy.
“Can you tell me exactly where you are right now?” I yelled into the phone.
(Note: studies have shown the best way to make yourself understood to a foreign-born person is to speak louder.)
“I lost.” (The voice on the phone.)
“That’s not very helpful. Are you in an automobile?”
“No. I’m driving car. I lost.”
“Right. You’re lost. Okay. Describe things around you and I can help.”
“Steering wheel. Clock. Seat covers…”
“No-no-no, OUTSIDE the car. What do you see OUTSIDE?”
“Traffic. Too much. Building. Street…”
“Hold on--read the signs on the buildings for me.”
_____
At this point, progress is made.
I quickly determine the lost *Russian fella* is only two blocks from Starbucks.
Carefully, I dictate extremely detailed directions again and again.
Finally, I hand the phone back to the *Russian guy* in the tight fitting skirt.
The expression on *his* face is alarmed.
What have I done wrong?
“Look, Crow on bicycle!” (*He* is pointing excitedly and quite upset.)
“Yes, I know. That’s Edgar and he’s a real pain in my ...well, he’s up to no good.”
“Crow bad luck before business meeting! Go--chase him away! Chase him now!”
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The *Russian guy* is ordering me around like I’m being paid for such services.
Rather than argue, (or get myself in deeper doo-doo with the feathered Nemesis) I buy a snack and deliver outside.
Edgar looks very pleased with the quick results of his malicious mischief.
As he gobbles his muffin, I examine the cracked rip in my seat. Infuriating!
Presently, I returned inside just as the "lost" companion arrives safe and sound.
I know what you're thinking.
The 2 *Russian guys* will probably want to thank me for making their lives easier--right?
Think again!
“You crazy feed Crow! One Crow bad luck. Only Crow with baby Good Luck.”
I ignore this ingratitude.
“You’re welcome. I see you got here okay following my instructions.”
“No. I see cop and ask him--he tell me right way. You direction stink. I stay lost forever.”
____
At this juncture, all I can do is give up.
I ignore the 2 of them and get back to my mixtape.
Ten minutes later, both *Russian guys* are now asking where is a good place to go for lunch.
I decided to let Siri make the suggestion.
I punch "Nearby Restaurants" into my iPhone map and up pops a Chinese Buffet for my 2 *Russians*.
Oh, the look of disgust!
____
“That’s racist!” the 2 *Russians* snorted indignantly.
They huffed and puffed, gathered up their things and departed.
I stood there like the loser I am scratching my head.
I watch them walking out to a car. The car has a Crow sitting on the hood--like an ornament.
It is Edgar, of course.
Now the crazy antics commence!
Imagine in your mind's eye:
2 crazed *Russians* are waving their arms about screaming at Edgar in garbled English in high-pitched voice--practically hysterical.
Our beloved Crow stays put ignoring them.
This continues.
I watched for ten minutes. Strangely satisfying, though.
Finally, they gave up and CAME BACK inside Starbucks and sat down next to me once more.
I groaned. My intuition is whispering to me. Sure enough…
“You make Crow go away! That YOU CROW. You responsible!”
Can you believe this?
I didn’t argue. I’m not that stupid.
I got ANOTHER snack and sat outside next to my bicycle.
His Majesty flies over and I feed him.
The 2 indignant *Russian guys* quickly scurried to the car and drove off practically peeling rubber.
I stared into those scheming yellow eyes of his as Edgar munched his second muffin.
I growled indignantly at him:
"THIS YOU FAULT. YOU BAD LUCK!"
I used a racist *Russian* accent.
So, sue me!
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