The kitchen as a bar

Chapter 32

       Alone now, Celia and Harold as Harold again, with the remains of dinner yet on the table between them, spoke seriously and drank the local type beer of Harold’s youth.

       A Midwest breeze that came in the window overwhelmed Harold near to tears.

       “You know, to my surprise and deelight dontcha know, on a night like this, with a breeze like that, each crop is distinct, identifiable to me. I’m surprised to find I didn’t lose that. Celia my Celia, this moment is as content as I have been in 30 years. You have my gratitude and my loyalty.” Clink.

       “Nice to be on the receiving end for once,” Celia said, draining her glass politely, half suppressing a hearty burp. “Pardon. Now tell me Harold my Harold, you’re here, you’re Gwendolyn, you’re footloose and fancy free. Do you have a plan, or you gonna just relive your first 15 years in drag?” Celia got a smirk out of Harold as they both reloaded.

       “I might ask you, do you have a plan? How will you make this grand resistance work? One mistake from you, and your mother will put a fence around the town and charge admission.”

       “Bitch would do just that don’tcha know. Everybody in the crew knows where we at. Loosely, very loosely, we just plan to make it impossible for any usable footage to be produced. Delay equals budget attrition. That’s what Miles the genius says. Additionally, extended periods away from bad coffee emporiums, gyms, pollution, too small apartments and large gobs of tubercular spit in the subways will cause many or most of the TV crews to basically fall apart. 

       ”Slow’em down enough and the Network will just pull the muthafuckin’ plug, dig?”

       “Hmmm......pretty good plan not plan I’d say. Speaking for myself and Gwendolyn, I think my time best spent here should be running interference between everything happening on your end and Morrow. I shall distract Morrow. Douglas, he said I may call him Douglas,” Harold smiled Puckishly.

       “Get the fuck out. Douglas???”

       “Yes Dear,” now in Gwendolyn’s voice, “Douglas.” 

Now Harold again, “I didn’t pack a whole lot, and this affair will take weeks at least. Is there somewhere nearby I can get essentials? Clothes and make up and whatnot, you know?”

       Celia drained her beer and seemed in her gaze to be examining the wonder of everything. “Make a list. Whatever you need. No problem.” 

       And everything wondered back.