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OtterSummer 8.30-SideKick

The Otter and I are waiting in line at the pharmacy and I mention that a piece in this morning’s Post described a rare plant that’s fixing to bloom downtown at the Botanical Garden. Even in the wild, it blooms only every decade or so, and when it blooms it smells like a rotting elephant carcass. “Wanna go down and see it?”

”I was kind of interested until you described how it smells, David,” she sneers. “No!”

”But, but, but, you could gross out all your friends when you head back home,” I entice.

”Absolutely not,” she insists. “That kind of smelly stuff makes me throw up.”

”I could take a picture of that,” I suggest, always helpful.

”I’d probably throw up on you, David,” she snaps.

”Could I take a picture of THAT?”

My sidekick was back. She’d been ill the last few days, bedridden and achy yesterday, and we’d just left the doctor’s office. She was clearly feeling better, even perky. When I ran out to the car to fetch the forgotten reusable grocery bag, I returned to find her cuddling with an obnoxious bright green stuffed toy turtle. When she spotted me pushing the cart, she got that sidekick smile and squeaked how cuuuuute it was, strongly hinting that I should buy the iridescent abomination for her. “Fergetaboutit,” I mouthed.

That seemed to prime the long-absent pump. She began channeling her inner eight year old, pointing out this and that, batting those big eyes, chirping with that pleading tone, “Please. Please, you know how much I like this.”

”Duct tape?” I questioned. “We already have duct tape.”

”But this comes in such bright colors!”

We repeated our little performance as I searched in vain for the turkey thigh department, me offering some disgusting-looking turkey hot dogs as a joke, she strongly declining. She insisting that a jar of bread and butter pickles might be the key to her soul’s salvation, me, well, relenting on that one. But I don’t relent on much; me the practical older gentleman, she the impetuous youth. We have ourselves one terrific time!

We learn that her prescription will make her sensitive to sunlight, so I remind her, as we’re wheeling the shopping cart out of the store, that she’ll have to remember to slather on the sunblock when we go down to see that carrion plant. “Ewwwwww. I hate sunblock. Besides, I already told you I don’t want to go see that stinking plant.”

”I know,” I told her, “that’s why I thought you really wanted to go.”

”No, I’m serious now, David.”

I chuckle, knowing that nothing sidekicks share could ever qualify as serious, except for seriously smart-assed.

©2013 by David A. Schmaltz - all rights reserved

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