In Pursuit of The Fox aka Volpone
Standing at the city bus stop, Sarge checked the schedule posted on the back wall of the plexiglass shelter for the next bus that would get him nearest his favorite bookshops. Just before Dylan set off for Pearl’s Market, Sarge boarded the Route 11 and sat down with a sigh of relief. For the next ten minutes he focused on his breathing in an effort to relax.
At Maniac Max’s he eventually found a copy of Ben Jonson’s plays without any annoying yellow high-lighter marring the text. Pen and pencil he didn’t mind. occasionally the notes scribbled in the page margins provided some amusement. But yellow highlighter markings just pissed him off by their very existence. Reminded him too much of dogs marking their territory in clean fresh snow thus spoiling the view for everyone else.
When he put the book on the check-out table where Max sat smoking his pipe and reading a book with a brown paper bag jacket to dissuade unwanted commentary by his customers, Max chuckled. “Finally travelling beyond The Bard, eh Sarge?” Max knocked on the copy of Jonson’s plays with his blue-veined knuckles I guarantee you won’t be disappointed. Like I told you before, Willy ain’t the only fish worth catching in that drama pond.”
“Yeah, well there’s a college production opening soon. Figured a read through before seeing it might be fun.” Sarge glanced at the brown paper bagged book Max had laid down but refrained from indulging his curiosity about Max’s current reading project. Max talked books only when he wanted to talk and only about books he wanted to talk about.
“Yep, I saw that in the paper. Not much press for it. But hey what do we expect right?” Max opened the thick paperback to find the price, made a notation of the item being sold in his spiral notebook and tossed the five dollar bill Sarge handed him into the little metal lock box at the edge of the old wooden table. Max openly stared at Sarge for a few moments. “Got a shave, huh? Beard was sweet thick, but hey, clean looks good on you, man. What’s the occasion?”
Sarge shook his head and pointed at Max’s book. “Rather not discuss any part of it.”
Max laughed and nodded. “Okay, okay. Two way street here, Sarge. No problem. I read you.” He saluted as Sarge walked to the door of the old warehouse reformed into a massive used bookstore. “Hey, lemme know if that crew does a job worth a ride out to the Falls—or not. Give the message machine some action, okay, Sarge?”
“Will do, Max. I’m catching it Friday night. Make sure there’s space on your tape. Later.”
Five minutes after reaching the bus stop for the first part of his return trip, Sarge forgot all about the latest encounters with his family when he began reading Volpone, the Fox.
Toe-ing Behind the Lines
Needing to rest her eyes, Lily laid her pencil between the pages of her Calculus textbook, slouched down into the spacious seat of the hard oak chair and stared glassy-eyed at the latest round of snow drifting up against the library’s basement level windows. It had been a long week of classes, tutoring fellow students who passionately hated the very idea of math, and extra sessions with others having difficulty with course papers coming due soon.
Friday was looking like a day of rest in comparison to the week so far. Her ten o’clock drama course had been cancelled in advance due to a roof catastrophe at the professor’s home resulting from the ongoing winter weather conditions. Her morning would be entirely her own. A few hours of first come, first serve tutoring during the afternoon would be welcome. After three o’clock she’d have a much-needed respite from the rest of the world. As for today, only Jake, the theatre tech major, was left on her tutoring docket for his regular 5:30 session.
While waiting for Jake’s arrival, Lily remembered the ticket he’d given her to pay for his last tutoring session. The ticket was taped to the corner of her closet mirror as a reminder that there was something fun to look forward to when this week ended. With a start, she sat up and stared out the window with sudden horror thinking, Oh hell I’ve got a date with that guy from Bob’s. Aloud she whispered to herself, “He’ll never show. No way. Guy reads sci-fi. Definitely not a drama fan.”
Sarge actually meeting up with her at the Orpheum was way too unlikely to even consider the possibility further. But she thought it would have been nice to share something like this play with someone else who also wanted to see it performed. Too tall guy with wild mountain man beard didn’t exactly seem the right type for that. Having convinced herself that she’d be on her own Friday night, she relaxed and slid down into the roomy chair again. Off came her boots and up went her purple wool stockinged feet onto the oak table-top. Her back resting on the seat of the chair she watched her toes’ mummer dance while humming a very very old song about a woman and man ice fishing during a snowstorm.
Breakfast Special, seventh helping, “Odds? What Odds? Oh the odds of probability. Yeah, those odds.” –>> https://47whitebuffalo.wordpress.com/?s=Breakfast+special+seventh+helping+Odds%3F+what+Odds%3F