Sometimes I like to write short stories

Most of this story is fiction. I didn’t do NaNoWriMo and I’ve only posted to this blog a couple of times this month. I’m just too busy to write much. So when the inspiration struck I decided to roll with it. Quickly. I’ve got a lot of other work to get done.

…

After a long ride on a cold MAX and a freezing walk across the park I finally step into Macy’s. I’ve never been to Lloyd Center before so I have no clue where I’m going. Lucky for me Macy’s provides a map. The map says there are two women’s bathrooms in the store but only one men’s. And it is on the fourth floor. And it is conveniently wedged into the corner by the children’s clothes and the women’s unmentionables.

I’m not sure, but I think Macy’s is trying to tell men something.

I step out of Macy’s and into the mall and I see the large ice rink in the center. Very cool. Children mostly, skating and giggling. There are comfy chairs set out for people to watch. I feel drawn to the rink, to sit for a while and rest.

Suddenly two teenage girls in aprons step into my path. Apparently I crossed the strike-zone for their kiosk.

“Sir, can I ask you a question?”, says Contestant #1.

Ugh.

Both are perfect teenage girls: youthful, lovely, and gleaming. Energetic but lacking a full womanhood in either body or composure. In short, utterly useless to a grown man, let alone a married one like me.

There’s only one thing teenage girls are good for: messing with their heads.

All of this consideration takes a small fraction of a second.

Quickly, I wave my hand in front of Contestant #1. “Yes, yes. I am on that TV show. It’s a small part and not a big deal, really. And no, I’m not comfortable giving autographs.”

My face right now is the reason men play poker.

“Oh no, sir, I wanted to tell you about this lotion. I want you to try… Wait, what?” Contestant #1 looks over at Contestant #2. Both look back at me, slightly more interested. I stop walking.

“I’m sorry, I thought you recognized me from TV. It doesn’t happen very often but it is kind of weird when it does. I didn’t mean to be rude. What did you want to ask me?”

The little boy in me is giggling and running back and forth in front of their kiosk; my adult facade is politely waiting for them to tell me about their line of fine products.

Contestant #1 is having none of this. She shakes her head. “Nononono. Forget that. What show are you on?”

I definitely feel a nibble.

Sheepishly, looking from side to side, I shrug and softly say “CSI”.

Pause.

I didn’t know teenage eyes could get that big.

I throw in a little anticipatory grin to set the hook.

“Oh. My. God. That’s amazing. I love that show!”

Time to reel it in.

“Wait, which one?”

Fuck.

I don’t watch CSI. Any of them. What’s the one with that guy? From the other cop show? Where he was a cop?

“Miami”, I say. “Well, Miami and Vegas”, I decide out loud. I kind of bounce my head from side to side.

Vegas is one of the CSIs, right? I can’t remember. At this point I don’t care.

“See, I have a recurring role on Miami, but I played the same role for a bit part in Vegas.”

Nothing like mundane details to sell a lie.

“Which the producers then left on the cutting room floor. Naturally.” I roll my eyes. It’s hard to be an unappreciated actor.

Contestant #1 is trying so hard to contain her smile right now. “So you get to work with.. Umm…”, she looks over at Contestant #2.

“That famous red-headed dude?”, I offer with a little mock-condescension. I can’t remember his name either.

“David Caruso!” pops out of Contestant #2. She’s bouncing on her feet.

“What’s he like?”

I see this question coming from a mile away.

“Well, I’ve only had one scene with him, but I’ve been on the set a lot when he’s there and…”

I lower my voice. I lean in a little. The girls lean in too.

“… he’s kind of a douche.”

The girls frown a little, but the disappointment quickly fades. Contestant #1 nods knowingly. Contestant #2 is texting someone.

“So who do you play? I don’t remember you.”

By this point I’ve had my fun and I should walk away. But I’m a gambler. I double down.

“I play Doctor Drake Ramoray. The coroner’s assistant. It’s a small role.”

There’s always a coroner’s assistant somewhere. Like Sam on Quincy. CSI is a lot of dead people, right? There’s a coroner’s assistant there somewhere,  trust me. And I’m betting these two are just a smidge too young to have seen Friends…

More disappointment on their faces.

“So what’s your name? I mean, your real name.”

“Gerry Dorsey. You can Google me. I have to run now girls.”