Loading ...
Sorry, an error occurred while loading the content.

Fixing her Little Red Wagon

Expand Messages
  • mandreox
    Perhaps the problem was that early one evening, soon after we encountered, which is to say soon after our romance was set into motion, I happened to remark
    Message 1 of 2 , Jul 31, 2007
    • 0 Attachment
      Perhaps the problem was that early one evening, soon after we
      encountered, which is to say soon after our romance was set into
      motion, I happened to remark that she'd better watch out looking all
      that irresistible, or I'd certainly have to fix her little red wagon.
      "Are you really serious?" she asked, taking me by the hand and
      leading me beside the bedside.
      And sure enough, the very next morning, as soon as I opened my eyes --
      in fact, even before I opened my eyes -- what did I see standing over
      in one corner of her room but a little red wagon. It was the deluxe
      model with big bright red wheels and polished chrome sides plus a long
      steel handle with a sort of stirrup on top -- a Classic of its Kind!
      "Guess what?" she said. "It's broken. But fix it, and we'll go for a
      little ride." I didn't even stop to wonder how anything could be both
      brand new and broken, but without another word pulled out my bag of
      tools from underneath the eiderdown. It took me a couple of hours to
      fix her little red wagon that time, but by the time I was finished it
      was too late in the day to go for a ride; and besides, I was somewhat
      tired. So I said goodbye, jumped into my car -- a little green
      Volkswagon -- and sped across town to my own apartment. I dropped
      right off to sleep ad probably would be dozing off yet except that my
      sleep was interrupted by the telephone. "How are you?" I asked in my
      best totally exhausted voice. "I'm fine of course," she said. "You
      seem to forget that it's my little red wagon that's broken." "Oh," I
      said, "in that case I'll be right over;" and, to make some time in the
      dense crosstown traffic I leapt onto my little green racing bicycle.
      En route, I had just enough time to notice a beautiful green park
      right beside her home; and it was full of hills (I couldn't help
      noticing), just the right kind for riding up and down on in little red
      wagons. I pulled up before her door with a screech of brakes, and
      knocked with enthusiasm, still anxious to fix her little red wagon!
      This time the job was considerably more complicated, and so I decided
      to stay the next night; but the next morning, I was still so exhausted
      from fixing things that it was all I could do to climb back on the
      bicycle seat and pedal back to my apartment. I was just about to fall
      into bed back home, when I heard the telephone. "Hello," she said;
      "hello; is this the repair service?" "Yes it is," I answered, somewhat
      mechanically. "Well hurry up then," she said, "It's that time again
      -- and this time it's worse than ever!" So this time in order to save
      time in the traffic I hopped onto my little green pogo stick, and went
      bouncing off in her direction. But about half-way to her house the
      traffic grew even thicker than before, so to save some more time this
      time, I got off my pogo stick and took off on foot. Once more I
      passed the park, and finally arrived at her door, panting for air and
      crawling on all fours. "Water, water!" I cried, falling over the
      threshold. She gave me a glass; then bent down again and handed me a
      hammer and screwdriver. "I'll do it, I'll do it," I shrieked, "And
      afterwards we'll be able to go for a delightful little ride." But this
      time the repair work was so serious that it took up the entire night
      and part of the next morning. And around noon, just as I was about to
      begin the long trip across the room to the bed on my hands and knees,
      I heard her voice in back of me: "Where are you going so soon?" she
      said. "It's broken already -- and this time it is in even worse shape
      than ever before!" As I lay there, collapsed flat on the rug, buried
      beneath my handyman's tools, I heard her beginning to sob, gasp, and
      pound on the floor with her fists and head. "It's broken, it's
      broken," she began to cry out as if she never intended to stop, "You
      still haven't fixed it, why don't you ever fix it, why is it always
      broken?

      --Michael Benedikt (1935-2007) Unmuzzled OX 1973
    • MATTHEW ROSE
      That s a great little story. But you have to wonder about women and their broken wagens – who s repeatedly breaking this thing? Has to be Madame. COLLAGE
      Message 2 of 2 , Jul 31, 2007
      • 0 Attachment
        That's a great little story. But you have to wonder about women and their broken wagens – who's
        repeatedly breaking this thing? Has to be Madame.

        COLLAGE BY MATTHEW ROSE: http://homepage.mac.com/mistahcoughdrop/ LALANDE DIGITAL ART PRESS: http://lalandedigitalpress.blogspot.com/



        ____________________________________________________________________________________
        Be a better Globetrotter. Get better travel answers from someone who knows. Yahoo! Answers - Check it out.
        http://answers.yahoo.com/dir/?link=list&sid=396545469
      Your message has been successfully submitted and would be delivered to recipients shortly.