The Early Bird Special
by Bob Waterstripe
© 2022 All Rights Reserved
Bemidji, Minnesota
Monday, June 14, 2027 9:30 a.m.
Beth Lindstrom parks the electric minivan
in the driveway of Mrs. Thorsen’s neat brick
house and says, “OK, Rosie, here’s your new
home.”
Rosie says, “I’m so excited.” Rosie sounds
just like a mature female human from
Minnesota. Rosie looks like a human, too. Rosie
is the latest model of android caretaker
companion from Prairie Robotics,
headquartered in Eden Prairie, a Minneapolis
suburb.
Mrs. Thorsen specified Rosie as her name,
in honor of the great historians and prophets
William Hanna and Joseph Barbera, after the
Jetson family’s robot maid.
Rosie’s gray-streaked brown human hair is
pulled back into a bun. She’s wearing dark blue
pants, a long-sleeved white blouse, and sensible
shoes. Her ample bosom slopes to blend with
her tummy. She looks like a sturdy no-nonsense
grandma with a heart of gold. You’d never
suspect she can run two miles in knee-deep
snow carrying 400 pounds. Her blue eyes, eerily
moist and lifelike Swiss OculePoirot 2740’s
with dynamic pupils, her most costly
components, scan the flower beds and the brick
walkway up to the front door as she steps out of
the van.
Barbara Thorsen is waiting in the living
room as her portly sixtyish son Arnold opens
the door and lets Beth and Rosie in. Beth says,
“Nice to see you again, Mrs. Thorsen, Mr.
Thorsen. Please meet Rosie.”
Rosie says, “I’m so happy to meet you, Mrs.
Thorsen, Mr. Thorsen.” Her warm smile brings
little crinkles around her eyes.
Barbara says, “Hello, Rosie. I’m so glad
you’re here. Please, call me Barbara. Welcome
home! This is my son, Arnold.”
Arnold says, “Hello, Ms. Lindstrom. And,
uh, nice to meet you, Rosie,” being a good
sport. He had read the brochures and watched
the videos, but Rosie in the pseudo flesh is so
natural it’s kind of creepy. He’s glad she doesn’t
offer to shake hands. He says he needs to get on
down to the office, and to call him if they need
him. He’s glad his mother seems to like Rosie.
“What a lovely home you have, Barbara,”
says Rosie. Scanning the photos on the mantel,
she asks, “Are these your beautiful
grandchildren?”
“Yes, that’s right. Of course, they’re all
grown up now. Those three over on the right are
my great-grands.”
And they’re off! Beth sits back, relieved.
The first few minutes are usually awkward, and
she worked hard on the programming to break
the ice and make the client comfortable. Rosie
has come through like a champ.
They sit in the living room for an hour
learning Barbara’s life story. Barbara doesn’t
ask, but if she did, Rosie’s life story is, “I was
powered up at 4 p.m. yesterday and spent last
night self-testing my functions.” Beth suggests
that Barbara show Rosie around the house, and
then Rosie could make some lunch.
Rosie says, “That sounds good to me. What
do you think, Barbara?”
Barbara agrees and starts to get up with a
grimace. Rosie says, “Allow me, Barbara,” and
holds out her hands. Barbara takes them and
Rosie gently helps her to her feet. “Just take my
arm, Barbara.”
Beth sees that Barbara doesn’t even notice
that Rosie’s skin temperature is the same as a
human’s, and that her hands and arms feel
human, or rather they don’t feel non-human.
Within a minute Barbara is holding Rosie’s arm
and walking around like it’s the most natural
thing in the world.
They tour the three bedrooms, with the
small one next to Barbara’s assigned to Rosie. It
has a single bed, which Rosie doesn’t need, and
a convenient power outlet, which she does.
Rosie says it’s perfect, and she’ll be very
comfortable here. They tour the two bathrooms.
At the second one, Barbara says she needs
to stop in there for a minute. Beth tenses
because the first time is always uncomfortable.
Rosie says, “Let me give you a hand,” and
closes the door behind them. Whew! Barbara is
chattering away as they come back out a
moment later.
They tour the dining room and the laundry
room, ending the tour in the kitchen.
Rosie gently lowers Barbara into a chair at
the kitchen table. Beth sits down, too, and Rosie
says, “What would you like for lunch,
Barbara?”
“I usually like some soup and a sandwich,
maybe tuna salad?” Barbara says a bit
doubtfully. “The grocery delivery came
yesterday.”
Rosie says, “That sounds good, Barbara. If
you’ll allow me a minute, I can get familiar
with the kitchen.” Barbara agrees, and Rosie
scans the contents of the cabinets, drawers, and
the small pantry closet. Just as programmed, she
does this as slowly and calmly as a human,
though she could have done it in three seconds.
“OK, Barbara, we have tomato and chicken
noodle soup. Which would you like?” Barbara
chooses tomato. Rosie pulls a can of Campbell’s
from the pantry and a saucepan from the cabinet
below the counter to the right of the sink. “Do
you like it mixed with water or milk?”
“Well, I like it with two-thirds of a can of
milk, Rosie,” says Barbara. “How do you know
about that?”
“Oh, Barbara, it’s just a little thing. It’s my
job to learn to make things just the way you like
them. And don’t you be shy! I want to learn
every little thing and you’ll never hurt my
feelings. Now, for example, how do you like
your tuna salad? Do you like a smidge of relish,
some green onion, and a little chopped celery?
Do you like it kind of soupy or a little bit dry?”
“Rosie, you’re reading my mind!” Barbara
laughs. “All of that, and not too soupy and not
too dry.”
“Lettuce and tomato? Toasted?”
“Yes and yes.”
Rosie gets to work while Beth and Barbara
chat. Barbara whispers, “She’s a wonder!”
Rosie hears this, and she smiles as her patented
pleasure center makes her cheeks turn a bit
pink.
Ten minutes later, Rosie serves lunch along
with glasses of fresh-squeezed lemonade and a
plate of saltines. “Here we are. Bon appetit!”
Barbara takes a bite of her sandwich, closes
her eye and chews slowly. For a moment she
looks like she might cry. Beth freezes, but
Barbara sighs and smiles. “This just perfect,
Rosie! Just perfect! It’s the best tuna sandwich I
ever ate.” Beth exhales as quietly as she can.
“I’m so glad you like it, Barbara,” Rosie
smiles. “You know, I was thinking, those store-
bought tomatoes don’t look so great. Maybe we
should plant a few heirlooms in the back yard.”
When they finish eating, Rosie says, “Why
don’t we review your schedule while I clean
up?”
After a while, Beth suggests that they take a
spin in Barbara’s car so she can get comfortable
with Rosie’s driving. Beth parks the minivan in
the street and Rosie backs the ten-year-old
Buick out of the garage. She walks Barbara
outside, locks the front door, and escorts her to
the car. Beth gets in the back seat. “Buckle up!”
says Rosie. “Don’t worry, Barbara, I’ve never
gotten a ticket.”
She backs the car into the street, and they
tour the town, with Barbara pointing out Dr.
Duthler’s office, the Senior Center, the beauty
parlor, her pharmacy, her church, and the bingo
hall. She’s tempted to stop by a couple of her
friends’ houses to show off Rosie, but decides
they’ll make a bigger splash at the Senior
Center tomorrow.
Instead, they stop at Arnold’s insurance
office. Rosie walks Barbara in, with Beth
behind. Barbara says hello to Betty at the front
desk and introduces Rosie and Beth. Betty can’t
help staring. Arnold seems a bit nervous when
he comes out of his office. Barbara hugs him,
kisses his cheek, and says, “Thank you, Arnold.
I never imagined. . .” then she straightens up, all
business. “Now, Arnold, you need to add Rosie
to the car insurance. She’s a very good driver,
and she’s never had a single ticket.”
Back at home, Barbara says, “Beth has a
long drive ahead, so let’s get her on her way.
We’re going to get along just fine, aren’t we,
Rosie?”
“Yes, Barbara, we sure are.” Beth takes a
bathroom break, and when she comes out,
Barbara and Barbara are watching a soap opera.
As she sat down, Rosie devoted 0.4 seconds to
learn about The Edge of Tomorrow, a popular
one-hour daytime drama that has run five days a
week for 36 years.
Rosie says, “That Doctor Carl is such a
cad!”
“You don’t know the half of it,” says
Barbara. “Why, he cheated on his third wife
with a woman who turned out to be his
illegitimate daughter!”
On her way back north to the Twin Cities,
Beth is glowing with relief, pride, and
satisfaction.
Her programming work involves fine
motions and enabling the units to learn new
skills such as embroidery, fly-fishing, cooking,
playing the banjo or CPR. Getting the Heimlich
maneuver just right was a real challenge for a
while; no sense saving someone from choking if
you crush their ribcage.
Rosie is the first delivered unit with the new
Prairie Robotics enhanced high-definition facial
muscle matrix, and those smile lines and
crinkles were Beth’s special touch.
The android caretaker industry really took
off in late 2021. Since it was impossible ever to
make enough of these fancy robots before their
essential patents ran out, industry leaders agreed
on the best way to get the show on the road.
They licensed their technologies and
standardized many components and interfaces,
like how Industry Standard Architecture
enabled the personal computer boom in the
1980s and ‘90s.
This encouraged hundreds of manufacturers
to produce standardized connectors, actuators,
circuit boards, joints, skeleton frames, muscle
assemblies, and on and on. Soon, just like in the
PC industry, a small business could buy
interchangeable components and software to
turn out robots for a wide range of applications.
Meanwhile the industry grew so fast that a
proprietary component such as Prairie’s facial
muscle matrix can be produced by a contract
manufacturer and sell millions of pieces,
earning a fortune for its inventors, even if
Prairie itself only delivers a few hundred robots
per year.
This situation spread well-paying new jobs
like wildfire to every town and city in the
country. Now it takes only modest capital to
assemble a base robot and trick it out with the
latest features. Many local entrepreneurs launch
their operations with a credit card. Using
standardized components, connectors and
function modules, a robot sold today can be
upgraded easily to keep up with the latest
advancements.
Besides engineering and manufacturing,
each unit requires on-site delivery, client
instruction, fine-tuning for unique tasks,
service, upgrades, and other forms of valuable
and irreplaceable human involvement at the
local level.
While many robots today are sleek basic
machines, efforts to humanize them continue.
The early human-like models seem crude and
cartoonish compared with the best of today.
Prairie Robotics is one of a few who opted to
mold their own body suits to make their robots
look and act more like ordinary people than like
Barbie and Ken.
Rosie is a model F48, Prairie’s best seller.
Beth thinks of her as the Mrs. Doubtfire model.
Next best is the M48, a male of average height
with greying temples and eyebrows, a slightly
receding hairline, a hint of chest hair and a
tummy bordering on a belly. All are available
with various skin tones and racial
characteristics.
Rosie and her male counterpart feature very
realistic mouth, lip and tongue motions while
speaking, and the new Thompson intra-oral
audio transducer further normalizes speech by
resonating with the mouth, throat, and nose just
like in an actual human, equally well with basso
profundo tones or silky soprano ranges,
software adjustable. Excellent, but not quite
perfect, teeth add to the illusion of life.
Beth loves the challenges of her
programming work, but especially enjoys
delivering units to clients, though once a week
is enough for her. Sometimes she brings a
customer service rep with her for training. After
today her boss will either arrange service for
Rosie and Barbara through a local outfit in
Bemidji, or hire a couple people for sales,
assembly, and service in the area, which has the
usual growing percentage of old folks, the
prime market for the 48’s.
The 48’s also excel at pet care, including
feeding, grooming, walking and so on. Prairie
spent a lot of time trying to develop those
functions three years ago before they were able
to buy a great app for twelve bucks a unit. Beth
was relieved, as developing the poop-scooping
function was getting messy.
The personal care robot industry is a prime
example of technology serving people. As the
population ages, routine home care by humans
has become prohibitively expensive and human
care providers are in short supply. The
economic contribution of the industry is far
greater than just the value of the products and
the millions of jobs it has spawned.
Millions of working-age adults are kept out
of the workforce by caring for elderly parents.
Following a general Moore’s Law path, every
year robots get better and less expensive. With
purchase or lease financing, even a higher-end
model like Rosie only costs about the same as a
same as a Honda e-Civic today. Now stuck-at-
home adults are free to work for the cost of a
couple of days’ pay per month, causing a surge
in economic growth and the General Prosperity
Index.
The little minivan takes over the driving and
Beth can relax on her way home. She calls
Chuck at 5:30 to report her ETA and they decide
he will have Chinese delivered 20 minutes after
her arrival. He can tell she’s happy and she tells
him about Barbara and Rosie. Chuck says,
“Honey, you just can’t beat a job that’s fun and
challenging and really helps people.”
She asks about his day, and he tells her
about his progress in teaching a robot to shuffle
and deal playing cards. He works at home with
Charlie, a robot assembly of head, torso, arms
and hands. When Charlie works the way he
envisions, Chuck will cash out big and they can
have a castle on a hill and his-and-hers electric
flying cars. “I got past that one problem today.
Just wait till you see Charlie deal Texas Hold
‘em now!”
“I knew you’d fix it, you’re my genius. And
you might want to deal some Minnesota Hold-
Me tonight, too. According to my app, this is an
excellent time to launch our other project.”
Meaning a baby.
Tuesday, June 15, 2027 9:40 a.m.
Barbara Thorsen can’t wait to walk into the
Senior Center with Rosie. “Now don’t be
nervous, dear,” she tells Rosie. “Arnold always
takes me and walks me in. But I have a feeling
you’ll catch the eye of all the fellas. Of course,
none of them is under 80, but they like to think
they talk a good game. Anyway, don’t be
surprised if Ed Gunther offers you a push in the
bush. He can’t help being rude, he’s been that
way his whole life.”
Rosie’s blush response performs perfectly.
“Oh, Barbara,” she giggles, “I think that would
be pretty funny, but I’ll try not to laugh at him.”
“Now steer clear of Ole Tolaffsen, he’s
mine!” says Barbara. “He was telling me the
other day about some kind of pill, but just my
luck he’d probably get two strokes in and then
stroke out right on top of me,” says Barbara,
and titters like a shy young thing.
“Don’t worry, Barbara, I’d save you,” says
Rosie, laughing along.
Rosie pulls up at the entrance and helps
Barbara to the bench at the entrance to the
Senior Center. A plaque says that this is the
Arne Olaffsen Memorial Bench. “He was 96
when he passed,” Barbara explains, “and he was
always telling the gals to sit on his face. So it’s
kind of ironic when you think about it.”
Rosie says, “Back in a minute” and goes to
park the Buick.
Barbara strolls into the big room on Rosie’s
arm, just as cool and nonchalant as she can be.
A hush passes from the front of the room to the
back in seconds. Everyone knows that Barbara
is getting a robot, though many of them
probably forgot. Now all eyes are on Rosie and
Barbara, who says, “Folks, this is Rosie, my
new bestie and roommate!”
One of the nearby women whispers to her
neighbor, “My God, she looks more human than
my daughter-in-law!” Since the woman is
practically deaf, the whisper is pretty loud, and
some laughter ensues.
In the back of the room where some guys
are playing Cribbage, one scrawny old coot
with glasses that magnify his eyes booms out,
“Hey, toots! What’s cookin’? How’s about a
little sugar?”
The crowd freezes. Rosie says in her
friendliest voice, “Oh, you must be Mr.
Gunther.”
“Guilty,” Ed Gunther snaps back. “And I’d
like to be guiltier!” His cronies chortle.
Rosie looks wistful and says, “Well, I’ve
heard about you, Mr. Gunther. I don’t think I
could handle a ladies’ man like you, but thanks
anyway.” Good natured laughter all around; this
is Minnesota, after all. Rosie winks at Barbara,
who squeezes her arm.
People resume their activities, pretending
they’re not staring at Rosie. Barbara says,
“Ladies, this is Rosie. Rosie, these are my
friends” and proceeds to name them in order
around the nearest few tables where they are
apparently getting ready to play Bridge. “Irene,
Martha, Louise, Eleanor, Marie. . .” and so on.
Rosie stores this information, matching each
name to an image and says, “Hello, ladies.”
There’s some kind of ruckus starting in the
back. Ed Gunther’s foghorn sounds, “A robot?
The hell are you talking about, a robot? She
looks pretty hot to me!” before his friends shush
him.
A couple of nurses disguised as hostesses
circulate. There’s a defibrillator on the wall,
over by the tables of cookies and coffee. The
ladies at Barbara’s table are ready to get down
to Bridge, with Barbara and Martha playing
Eleanor and Marie.
Rosie says, “Do you ladies need anything
before you get started?” She fetches coffee and
cookies for Barbara’s foursome. “I’ll find
someplace to sit. Barbara, if you need me, just
say ‘Hey, Rosie.’ You don’t need to say it loud,
and I’ll be there immediately.”
“Thanks, Rosie.” And the ladies say how
nice it is to meet Rosie, and Rosie says it back,
and she goes off to a hard chair in the corner
away from the snacks.
Two hours later, Barbara says the magic
words, Rosie helps her up and they say their
goodbyes.
Barbara sits on the bench again. Rosie
brings the car and helps her in. Barbara says,
“That was fun. I hope you weren’t bored.”
Rosie assures her that she cannot be bored, and
that Barbara should never worry about Rosie or
her feelings.
“I’d have liked to stay longer,” says
Barbara, “but the lunch menu really sucks. How
about old Ed, huh?” She laughs. “You handled
him just right.”
“Thank you, Barbara,” and with a perfectly
straight face, “You can’t blame a guy for trying.
By the way, which one’s Ole Tolaffsen?”
Barbara says, “He was the guy right next to
Ed. I was ignoring him because I’m playing
hard to get. Next time maybe I’ll give him a
wink, now that I have you to save me in, uh, an
extreme situation,” she says with a sly grin.
They laugh all the way home.
Monday, June 28, 2027 6:00 p.m.
Ole Tolaffsen sits across from Barbara
Thorsen at her candle-lit dining room table. The
curtains are drawn because it’s still daylight out.
Rosie wears a plain black dress and a white
apron with frills around the border, her own
idea to enhance the ambiance. Barbara wears a
loose-fitting dress and a lacy bra with the new
presto-release button in front, so popular with
frantic teenagers and, she imagines, handy for
arthritic old codgers.
They picked up Ole at 4:45. When he
opened the car door, Barbara said, “Ole, did you
remember your little pills?” and Ole said he
took all his pills at lunch time. “Not those pills,
Ole. The special pills you were telling me
about.” Ole cracked a wicked grin and shook a
small pill bottle at her.
By 5:30 Rosie was serving a classic
Minnesota hotdish on the good china.
Two weeks ago, Barbara swore Rosie to
Top Secrecy and enlisted her in a Top Secret
Plan. Rosie spent almost three seconds reading
12,000 romance novels and checking a few porn
videos to get the idea, and agreed
enthusiastically, making the Plan a Conspiracy.
They developed and refined a script during their
lovely afternoon walks, longer each day, made
possible by Rosie. Now Act Two is winding
down, intended to bring about Act Three.
After dinner, Rosie clears the table, leaving
a glass of water for Ole. Rosie removes herself
to the far end of the kitchen, but she can hear a
whisper at that distance, and you can’t really
whisper to Ole.
Barbara says, “OK, Ole, we aren’t getting
any younger just sitting here. Take your little
pill and let’s go get comfortable and watch a
movie on my new bedroom TV.” And there’s
Ole’s wicked grin again.
Just over two hours later, Barbara says
quietly, “Hey, Rosie.” In seconds Rosie silently
opens the door. She already knows it’s not a
medical emergency. Ole is snoring like a bus.
“Rosie, can you please get this big lug off of
me?”
Rosie gently extracts Ole, lays him on his
back on the other side of the bed, and covers
him. Barbara says, “Thanks, Rosie. He fell
asleep in the saddle.” She sighs. “But I have to
say it was a nice long ride.” She titters, and
Rosie moves in for a high-five.
Barbara suddenly goes all serious. She takes
Rosie’s hand in hers and looks right into her
amazingly lifelike eyes, she just can’t get over
that, and says, “Rosie.”
“Yes, Barbara?”
“What’s the word?”
All serious, Rosie looks into Barbara’s eyes,
simultaneously noting Barbara’s temperature,
pulse rate, and blood pressure, all in the green.
A new feature allows her to calculate Barbara’s
blood oxygen level by examination of the tiny
blood vessels in Barbara’s eye, 98%, green.
Rosie says, “Mum, Barbara. The word is
mum, and mum’s the word.”
After a minute, Barbara hugs Rosie, who
returns the hug with the same degree of pressure
and enthusiasm, adjusted to be within safe
limits for Barbara’s meat and bones. Barbara
closes the door and goes off to sleep in the guest
room.
Tuesday, June 29, 2027 7:00 a.m.
They drop Ole Tolaffsen at his house early, so
he can be ready when his daughter comes to
take him to the Senior Center. This cat’s staying
in the bag, Barbara tells herself for the
thousandth time. But in her heart, she knows the
cat will be all over the Senior Center by 9 a.m.
She practices inscrutable smiles in the visor
mirror, planning how to deal with it.
“Oh, would you be jealous, dear?”
something like that, kind of snarky. Or better,
casual, like you would say, “Do you know what
time it is?”
She turns when Rosie says, “Barbara, can
we talk seriously for a minute?”
Barbara says, “Sure, what is it, dear?”
“I just want to remind you, to make you
know for sure, that your secrets are safe with
me. Whenever you tell me something is secret,
that goes to a place in my mind that no one, not
even a programmer, can access. Do you
understand what I mean?”
“I think so,” says Barbara.
“I think we are becoming very close friends,
Barbara. I truly enjoy being with you. But you
know, sometimes I can be a better friend than a
human. I cannot gossip. When you tell me
something is secret, I literally cannot reveal it
unless keeping it is a direct and imminent
danger to you or another person.
“What do you mean?”
“For example, you get kidnapped by a band
of pirates. I could only handle seven or eight
pirates, so let’s say it’s a big band of pirates. Or
you get snatched into the air by a drone
controlled by a supervillain. In any case, you
end up with a pistol to your head, or imminent
immersion in a pot of boiling oil, something
dreadful. And you’re going to die if they don’t
learn your secret. Then I could and would
readily admit that, yes, my good friend Barbara
enjoyed a perfectly delicious evening with a Mr.
Tolafssen.
“On the other hand, if you tell me your
plans to jump off a bridge or to murder
someone, then you’re busted.”
Barbara laughs a little.
“Barbara, the reason I exist is to give you
freedom, independence and safety, which add
up to peace of mind for you and Arnold and
your family and everyone who loves you. Do
you see what I mean?”
Barbara nods, “I never thought of it that
way, but yes, I see what you mean.”
“Arnold and your family can have peace of
mind just because I’m here. But that’s not
important to me. I care about you, and for you
to have peace of mind you only need to trust
me. My job is to help you in every way I can
and any way you want. I have a patented
pleasure center that makes me happy whenever
I help you in the least little way. And it makes
me even happier when we’re true friends.
“Nobody needs to know your business
unless you decide to tell them about it. So I will
tell you now, before you feel the least bit
uncomfortable with me knowing your secrets,
there is a code on page 3 of the manual that
came with me that will make me forget
everything that’s in the secrets department of
my brain. Just speak the code and poof, I don’t
remember anything about what’s his name. But
you can have a lot more fun with a trusted
partner in crime, right?”
Barbara says, “I’ll say. Thank you for
explaining. And you know, I really do trust you.
I’ll admit that at first, I was a little, uh,
uncomfortable about a, a, uh...”
“A new appliance? A robot?”
“Well, yes. Does that offend you?”
“Of course not, Barbara. It’s normal to be
apprehensive about any change. I bet you were
skeptical when you got your first dishwasher.
Having a robot companion is certainly a huge
change. And I am your own personal robot. I
learn and think like a person, sort of. Well, a lot
faster, actually. Knowing you makes me unique
in all the world.”
“Rosie, I am so glad you’re here. I can go
where I want, when I want, without calling
Arnold. You keep me safe. You really can’t
imagine how terrifying it is to worry all the time
about falling down, and now I can go for walks.
I feel stronger already. And by the way, you’re a
terrific cook and an incredible friend. And an
excellent co-conspirator! I love you, Rosie.”
“And I love you, Barbara,” says Rosie, her
OculePoirots misting up, just like Barbara’s
eyes. “How about some pancakes and eggs?
We’re up early, so after breakfast we can
transplant a few more tomatoes and maybe
some peppers before we head over to the Senior
Center. That’s going to be pretty interesting
today.”
“You betcha, Rosie. Maybe we should be a
few minutes late today, you know, build up the
suspense. This time when we walk in the door,
they’ll be looking at me instead of you.” She
laughs and realizes she’s laughing a lot more
these days than she has in years. “Men are like
little children, you know. They can never keep
their mouth shut.”
“Have you decided how you’re going to
handle it?”
“You’ll see. Dignity and grace, with a
smidge of condescension, and pity for the
jealous old biddies.” They laugh so hard
Barbara gets the hiccups.
Just like a pack of hungry hyenas, Barbara
thinks as Rosie walks her to her seat. Are they
actually drooling? Before Barbara even puts her
pocketbook on the floor, Martha demands
straight out, “Is it true?”
“Is what true, dear?” says Barbara.
“You know, about you and Ole Tolaffsen,”
says Eleanor.
Of course, all the guys at Ole’s table are
staring at Barbara, and not even trying to hide
it. Most of them can’t see well enough to tell
that Barbara is cool and collected. She says,
“What is this, junior high? I don’t know what
you think you know, but you’re dripping with
jealousy, and it’s not at all becoming.
“Oh, Rosie, could you please bring me a
cup of tea and a couple of cookies? Oh, and
please make an appointment at the beauty shop
for this afternoon, I’m afraid my hair’s a mess.
Thank you, dear.”
Barbara tortures them for as long as she can,
but finally she calls Rosie to take her to the
ladies’ room. Her three tablemates follow, with
Eleanor holding Rosie’s other arm.
Once inside, they wait breathlessly while
Barbara enters a stall, closes the door, and pees
just as slowly as she can. When Barbara finally
comes out, she washes her hands with
excruciating care, and dries them thoroughly
before she turns back to the ladies.
“OK, here’s the deal,” she says. “I had Ole
Tolaffsen over to dinner. It was an early dinner,
but if I decide to have him over again, dinner
will be even earlier and the coffee will be
stronger. The little pills he’s been bragging
about work better than you can imagine. They
take about an hour to kick in.
“He was a perfect gentleman. He covered
all the bases, if you know what I mean. Then he
got to the main event.” She pauses until she can
see they are about to burst.
Now, going for shock value, she snaps,
“Yes, like a rock and yes, so many times I lost
count.” She pauses and looks at their open
mouths and popping eyes. “Well, that’s what
you wanted to know, isn’t it? Isn’t it?” They
nod, speechless. Are they really looking
greenish, or is it just the light in here?
“Well, after barely an hour, the old coot fell
asleep in the saddle and the fun was over. Only
reason I knew he wasn’t dead was he was
snoring like a tractor. Rosie rescued me, so I
didn’t have to call 911, thank goodness. Can
you imagine?”
Eleanor says, “My God, an hour?”
Out in the main room, everyone hears the
shrieks of laughter from the ladies’ room that
seem to go on for a long time. Ole flushes dark
red. He’s proud of his performance, what he
remembers, but knows he deserves this because
he couldn’t help bragging about it.
They stay in the ladies’ room a little while
longer because Eleanor laughed so hard she had
a little accident. When they emerge, the room is
suddenly quiet.
Barbara says, “Well, I guess certain people
have a big mouth.” She pauses, then she says,
“And maybe that’s not the only thing.” The
ladies laugh and laugh some more, and the
whole room erupts, everyone but Barbara, who
pretends she doesn’t notice.
Barbara catches Ole’s eye and gives him an
exaggerated wink that absolutely no one misses,
just as she intends.
Rosie decides she’ll make salmon
croquettes and red Jell-O next time.