BLIND DATE

I have been working on a few stories of late called Loose Ends. the idea is the reader finishes the tale . quite often the reader is not happy with the end of the story so this is there chance to give it the happy ever after they are looking for

Blind Date

Why on earth did I agree to this blind date?  I am 39 years old and you would think I would know better.

Stood on a street corner waiting for who knows what!!!

 My friend arranged this. She said his name was ED and all she would say about him was he was a dear.

‘Hmmmm’ was my response to that. Still I turned up. Let’s hope ED or whatever his name is turns up.

Oh shit – it’s bloody raining. I hear a cough behind me and turn around to see what looks like a younger version of  Danny DeVito  standing in the shadow of the lamp post  with his hair (what little there was ) beginning to matt with the rain.

 ‘Hi, my names ED - you must be Tina. You certainly look like a Tina.’  

‘Oh’ I said not knowing how to reply to the sarcastic blow. He looked like he was use to distain and instant dislike.

The silence was broken with him announcing ‘listen your friend Stacy paid me $50 to turn up. I’ve done my bit so far.  If you want to go for a drink or something to eat I ain’t got nothing to lose.’

 I looked at the time and then ED and shrugged my shoulders and said ‘Aahh! What the fuck!’

 He took me to a local bar called the ‘Intake’ - I needed to take a sharp intake of breath before I stepped inside.

 Boy, it was dark and smelly.  ED could see the look of horror on my face. Suck it up princess - the first round’s on me.’

‘Mine’s a white wine, if they know what wine is in here.’  He chuckled at that.  Jeez, there was some hope to rescue the night yet.

 I choose to sit at the bar before he made a choice - it seemed the safest place to be at that point in time. The wine arrived in a half pint class with added stains and beer mat.  (Lord! We wouldn’t want to damage the bar top).  A gulp of wine and I was ready to talk to this Mr ED.

 ‘So Eddy’ I began.

‘Whoa!  It’s ED. Not Eddy, Edward or Ted. It’s just plain ED.’ His accent was broken Brooklyn with a dash of West Coast slur.

‘Okay ED - why?’

ED started to explain. ‘Your friend Stacy wanted to play a prank on you as revenge for the douche you introduced her to.’

“The cow!  Ha-ha! He was my ex and I did warn her twice about his habits. Well here’s to douche bags. Cheers.’ I raised my glass and downed what was left in one. ED chuckled to himself and drank whatever was in his glass.

Round two was mine. ‘Another wine for me and whatever this guy is having Mr Bar Keep.’ The mood was getting easier to tolerate. ED was busy blah blah blahing about his stuff etcetera, when then the juke box went silent and an ear-piercing screech of feedback from the stage speakers filled the room, as a human started tapping the microphone to see if it worked (guess what fella -  it does). The announcement of open mic karaoke or comedy came of the speakers.

‘What new hell?’ I thought to myself. I looked over at ED. He was smiling to himself as he adjusted the remaining hair he had left and tucked his shirt in (finally). With that, he jumps down off his stool and walked over to the stage and picked up a songbook (oh shit noooooo)!

 Just when I thought it was okay to relax in this Hell Hole. As he waddled back to the bar, I stared at him in disbelief and I got a single finger in reply from him. He jumped up onto his perch and started to thumb through the pages. Then the first volunteer got up to the microphone and started to belt out ‘Nutbush City Limits.’ (God - I wish I was in Nutbush instead of here right now). The singer (and I use that term lightly) didn’t realise when you attempt to sing a song it is best to try to be nearly in tune. The least bit of effort would have been welcome. Time for another wine.

‘ED, you can sing can’t you?’ I asked politely as two glasses of wine would allow me.

‘Yeah - sort of - but not as good as our present performer’ he laughed as my face screwed up in horror. A few more moments of torture and Madam Butterfly was finished - all done.  I took my fingers out of my ears and saw her face scowl. I think she got the message.

The compere motioned for ED to come to the stage with his choice of musical enlightenment. Now was my chance.  I could stay and brave the evening or just flee into the night.   

By Ray Bokor