Yesterday I was in traffic behind a guy in some kind of Baretta/Starski and Hutch-type car(forgive me, my automotive ignorance is showing)-something in pristine condition for how old it was. Great red paint. Wider-than-normal tires I'm sure he believed capable of smoking any one of us at the suburban stop light. So proud was he of the extra pings the engine made on acceleration. And then I noticed it: a doll hanging from his rear view mirror. Not a blow up doll or supermodel-joke, but one of those four-inch porcelain Victorian dolls with the frilly dresses. Red. To match, of that I am certain.
Now, this could have been his wife's car, but it really screamed male-overcompensation-or-mid-life-crisis. Why the doll? I have no idea, but I'm sure an entire story could be built around it.
Also, yesterday, I stole a couple of hours at the coffee shop to write. Thinking I was thrumming on the right cosmic chord because they were pimping the latest Elvis offering to celebrate his 75th (I thought I was in writing heaven), when I spy-indeed-a pimp. Or, the Sunday morning version. Electric purple three-piece suit with tails, foxy glasses, animal fur-trimmed hat. This dude was dressed for the Lord, his just-shined shoes tapping out Baby, I Wanna Play House. After that, I knew I was in writing heaven. Life was handing me inspiration wrapped in a handsome bow of fashion courage. LOVED it. The next latte is on me, Sir, and you can teach me how to have the courage to go out in public in my ski-gondola-patterned jammie bottoms.
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There is another writer with another white cat around these parts (Hi, Rick!). Meet Rocco, the newest feline rescue at Casa Vortex:
Yes, he's laughing with you. I think.The hunka, hunka burnin' question today: Why the doll?
9 comments:
It was a gift from his girlfriend, you know, the one that got away. She want to college and left him behind. Or on the way to going to college, she was in a tragic car accident and died. Or she left to join the peace corp and gave away all her earthly possession --- and the doll meant the most, so she gave it to her beau. Ooh, I love this game.
The kitty is precious, L.A. I miss having a furry feline roaming around the house.
Because he knew that when he got to driving well over a hundred miles an hour that after the thrill of the extreme speed that porcelain dress was the only one not coming off.
A little doll is so disarmed by thrills of being with a good boy in a fast car.
Picture of those jammies please?
So am I the only one who thought this post was supposed to start with a joke? (A doll, a pimp, and a white cat walk into a bar...)
Welcome to Rocco. Obviously, the white kitty has mystical powers to be sending you such lovely brain candy in your writing. And maybe I should be writing romantic suspense because I see the doll as a trophy from that dude's first kill, a.k.a. evidence. By chance did you get his license plate number?
No you're not Pamela! I thought the same thing. Love the title of this post :)
The doll is no doubt possessed by some demonic force and it has begun to control the guy. He has the car because he needs to run people down.
Hi, I'm talking Porceloin doll and I'm going to KILL you!
(ref to Twilight Zone in case you didn't get it)
Great cat picture........and telephone box at the top of your blog !
I've got to pay better attention to the people around me...
Love the picture of Rocco!
The doll is a gift from his daughter. She's young and simply connects the color red as a gift; doesn't note that the doll and car are both classics; items treasured in bygone eras. Quite simply, a 'think of me, Daddy' gift. Oh and she would have adored the laughing kitty! Her next gift to him might well be a small stuffed one for his rear windshield shelf. Meanwhile as he contemplates her future, he hopes the pimp will stay, in a galaxy, far far away. How's that? LOL.
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