Free Honeymooners A Cautionary Tale by Chuck Kinder

a
refrigerator’s opened in the middle of the night. When Lindsay
dialed Alice Ann’s number the next time, only moments later, it was
too late, for Alice Ann was already out the door.
     
    Alice Ann was on her way to
meet somebody for a drink and a long talk. Jim, namely. Alice Ann
had called Jim to see if he had any idea where in the fuck her
so-called husband, old rotten, Running Dog Ralph might be. Jim had
told her he didn’t have a clue. Jim had told Alice Ann he didn’t
even know the whereabouts of his own wife that night when flaws in
time kept them, all the sundry players, locked relentlessly in
parallel planes.
     
    Lindsay let the phone ring
off the wall. There was a comfort in the ringing, the ringing and
ringing only Lindsay could hear. Chicken bones in an ashtray looked
blue.

 
     
    You Are Not Your
Characters

    1
    To celebrate their
seventeenth wedding anniversary Alice Ann had made reservations for
her and Ralph at a restaurant in one of those little, chic shopping
malls full of import shoppes, expensive boutiques, and Dalton
bookstores, so popular on the peninsula south of San Francisco, and
she had invited Jim and Judy to join them. At some point, during a
weak, sentimental moment, Jim had crossed his heart and hoped to
die while promising Judy not to beat her new boyfriend to a pulp,
and as they were more or less on speaking terms then, they agreed
to go.
     
    The restaurant Alice Ann had
selected for the joyous occasion featured Greek cuisine, and it was
obviously a place she was familiar with, the way she raved around
about the food. Ralph hated it, of course, oily, smelly,
foreigner’s fare. The joyous, celebratory evening was off to a
flying start by the time Ralph inquired about who Alice Ann had
been in this wretched establishment with before. For it sure hadn’t
been him. Not in this lifetime, anyway. Some of Alice Ann’s new
hipper-than-thou chums probably was what Ralph speculated out loud.
He was already about half drunk. So was Jim, and they all had
smoked a couple of killer
    doobies in the parking lot.
Rather, Ralph, Alice Ann, and Jim had, for, as usual, Judy was the
designated driver.
     
    That cute remark is in
reference to my est group, Alice Ann had smilingly informed Jim and
Judy, slowly twisting the ends of her long blond hair around in her
fingers as she talked. Alice Ann really was a good-looking woman,
and Jim had always thought her hands were especially lovely, with
long, slender, expressive fingers that always flashed with
rings.
    That’s the crowd you pay an
arm and a leg to, to tell you you’re a turd, Ralph had
said.
    Cute, dearest, Alice Ann
said.
     
    First it was those
meditation classes, Ralph said. —Then that yoga farm where she went
on that suspicious retreat. Wonder what in the world you grow on a
yoga farm?
     
    Isn’t our anniversary boy
amazing? Alice Ann said. —To criticize me for trying to broaden my
horizons. Ralph takes pleasure in making light of me trying to
expand my consciousness.
    Do you plant little yoga
seeds? Ralph said. —What’s a yoga taste like, anyway? To the best
of my knowledge, I, for one, have never personally eaten a yoga. Is
it anything like a carrot? Okay, okay, I’ll admit I’m not much of
a, you know, connoisseur, but there are things in this world I
wouldn’t put in my mouth if you paid me. Why does it have to be so
dark in here, anyway? Ralph said, and held his hand up before his
face. —You can hardly see your hand in here.
     
    Ambience, hon, Alice Ann
said.
     
    It is pretty dark in here,
Judy piped up. She’d been sitting there with a faraway, dreamy look
in her lovely brown eyes, probably missing, Jim had reflected,
Melvin’s member. Judy really was a good-looking woman, too, Jim had
to admit, his litde blow-job queen, while Jim, on the other hand,
looked like a heavy, hirsute, lowlife rider of Harleys.
     
    You can say that again,
Ralph said. Ralph picked up a small candle-lantern from the center
of the table and