“The way I see it is if we don’t start in the middle, if we have to include everything, well, it’s just going to take a long, long time – that’s all.”
“So how do I even know who I’m talking to right now? Are you tall, short, fat? Are you dull and lethargic sitting in an over-sized lounge chair or are you leaning against a chain link fence with sweat dripping off your face? I don’t even know if you’re a man or woman.”
“If I have something to say how does all that matter?”
“I’d like to know if you’re really cute or not?”
“This is a total waste of time. I’m not a bit cute. There, we’ve fleshed it all in. Do you feel much better?”
“Not better, I was hoping for cute but that’s not my whole life. So you’re an old fat guy smoking a cigar, a big ole cloud of smoke hanging over your head? I’d listen to a guy like that.”
“No, and that was quite a leap.”
“How about a name? Names tell a lot about a person.
“Around here names are given to babies before they are born or soon after; how is that going to tell you anything?”
“The name is Randolph, my friends call me Randy, you can call me Randy,” said Randy.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it Randy? Didn’t take much time. So, Randolph, you’re probably an older guy, in you sixties, you let people call you Randy so you’re a fairly nice guy although you do make sure to point out that your true name is Randolph…”
“You asked for my name, it’s Randolph so that’s what I told you!” Randy interrupted.
“Sorry, I was just making conversation.”
“I’m only fifty-five, people get named Randolph all the time. I know of babies named Randolph!” Randy continued.
“Again, sorry, Randy, names are just names; given to us when we are very young. So, you’re fifty-five and maybe just a little bit angry. What you wearing?”
“Wearing?” Randy overlooked the little bit angry and looked down at his tennis shoed feet; at his worn blue jeans, slight holes starting in both knees, an un-tucked perfectly white tee shirt, he pulled on the bill of his blue baseball cap. “I’m wearing black slacks, shinny black Wingtip shoes and a bulky, off white, wool sweater,” Randy said, remembering something a friend of his had worn to a party.
“Doesn’t do any good to lie, I can read the narration Randy.”
“Forgot,” Randy’s white face blushed red for a second, he felt the heat rise and ebb in his cheeks. For a moment he thought of leaving and squirmed a bit in his wooden chair.
“The Wingtips were a nice touch, everyone seems to wear tennis shoes now a days.”
“I had some in high school. They were quite the thing back then,” Randy was thinking about his first high school dance and a little bleached blonde girl with blue eyes and blue eye liner who had stolen his heart for several weeks. He wanted to share the story but he knew nothing about the person he conversed with. He paused and thought about how this had all begun. For all he knew he could be talking to that blue eyed girl right now. “So, tell me a little about yourself,” Randy said.