Cream-Conscious Carl
Bitterroot Personalities: Exhibit D
Note to good Christian readers: I wrote the first section of this 3-part story, about Cream Conscientious Carl, from the park by the Bitterroot River, where I ate my lunch. It's a beautiful, grassy park and you can take a walk in the woods where you have a good chance of seeing one of the local moose who likes to eat the tall, marshy grass in the area. But just before I'd finished writing about Carl, I heard a woman screaming from the picnic table around the corner and behind me. Section 2 begins with a verbatim record of her words, and it's rated R, just in case you are reading aloud to little Timmy and Abigail. If that's the case, stop after part 1.
part 1
There are two worlds. One is the world of the mundane, and the other is the impending apocalypse that the internet brings to our attention. You spend all your time in one and you'll forget the other. I shall get back to the apocalypse in due course. Today, another episode in the world of the mundane.
Today I drove the F150 down to Hamilton to do a couple errands. I should be working but I threw my back out Saturday afternoon washing pondman Fred's trucks. No good deed...
So I have to:
resolve a banking snafu
buy some stuff
From the credit union, I had wired money to my wife. But Jeanine omitted the 'm' in Shumway and that kind of error, even if you get the account number correct, will precipitate a national state of emergency in Japan. As we were getting it sorted out, I asked Jeanine, “Can I track the wire transfer to see when it arrives in my wife's account?”
The short answer is no. Banks somehow do not possess the same tracking technology that UPS* and Fedex have had for a couple decades now, at least not for peon-level customers, so you have to call up your patience-wearing-thin wife and say, “Honey, did you get the transfer? No? OK, I'll call you tomorrow, Sweetness.”
* (although today I read that UPS is recently becoming very good at losing track of ammo shipments.)
Next to the door to the loan officer's room, there was this huge double-pyramid of breakfast cereals on display. One was General Mills and the other Kelloggs. The last time I was here they were giving away ice cream bars to celebrate the 20 year anniversary of the credit union. I didn't see any sign to indicate why the towers of Captain Crunch, Cheerios and Frosted Flakes were here. I wasn’t too interested in a freebie this time- three weeks at Big Joe's and eating his delicious and healthy food has taught me to look at ingredients, and I know these cereals will be full of GMO junk. Plus someone recently told me about an ingredient in all General Mills cereals that is full of some crazy sounding thing like gelitinous glutinide that of course is supposed to cause cancer. Plus Kellogg's has gone fully woke, so I didn't wait around for a teller to give me a complimentary box of General Mills Glyphosate Puffs or Kellogg's Loops for Fruits.
My only other stops would be the Super-1 and the Goodwill store. I was hungry so I contemplated an early lunch. I thought about going to Napp’s, the grilled burger place where you get a giant hamburger, a condiment bar with as much lettuce and big tomato slices as you want and a free-refills soda from the fountain machine. 13 bucks for about 4,000 calories, if you drink enough Mountain Dew.
But then I'd have to tell son Andy I went to Napps, and he'd be ticked. So I picked up a burrito. I got it with all the stuff and it came out to 14 bucks including the tip. After breaking another 20 I felt too cheap to buy a drink out of the display fridge so I went to the People's supermarket and picked up a jug of 'spring water' for $1.79. Just one of those gallon jugs that probably is filled with tap water. It said, “From the springs of Spanaway, Washington.” I'm from Seattle, about an hour and a half from Spanaway, and I never heard of springs from there. It's just a suburb of greater Tacoma- strip mall city flanked by Indian casinos.
With only a jug of water to buy, the lady behind me let me go in front of her, which put me two places behind a tall black guy, let's call him Carl, between 55 and 62, with a 49ers baseball cap and a very odd body. He was thin, but with a big paunch. Skinny-fat is what my brother would call it, as he called me in my spindly junior high years. But wait, that paunch had two bulges, like an old woman with very low breasts. Then I noticed his nipples protruding from the two bulges. It was his chest, soft and round and so low it looked like a big, protruding gut, if not for the nipples.
Carl said, “I cain't get Oreos down at the Walgreens.”
Cashier lady- Oh, I'm pretty sure they have 'em.
Carl-I don't mean Double Stuff Oreos. I mean regular Oreos.
Cashier lady- I'm pretty sure their Oreos are cheaper than ours.
Carl- But I don't want those Oreos. Too much cream fillin' in Double Stuff Oreos! Who needs all that fillin'?
Lady between me and Carl- I kind of like the extra filling. (cashier lady nodded)
Carl- That's way too much fillin’. I don't want Double Stuff and they don't got regular Oreos. That's why I come down here.
Cashier- And you pay more.
Carl- I'll pay more if I have to. I cain't understand why Walgreen's only has Double Stuff.
Then Carl took his bag and went for the exit.
Cashier- I don't know why he comes here just for Oreos. They're cheaper at the Walgreen's.
Lady between- But he doesn't like Double Stuff.
Cashier- It's all the same to me.
It was the small-town chit chat where anyone could join, and the cashier gave me one of those, People!-go -figure looks, so I felt I had to chime in.
Me- Some people are pretty particular about the filling in their Oreos.
Cashier- I guess so.
Lady- I don't know. I like Double Stuff.
I have to sympathize with Carl, however. Sometimes it just isn't right when they tinker with the standard recipe. I remember looking for regular Fritos once and all they had was Scoops, but I didn't want Scoops, I wanted regular Fritos, and they didn't have them. Funny thing is, now I only like Scoops cause regular isn't big enough to hold salsa or blue cheese dressing* without dripping and sometimes I can only find regular and no Scoops. Go figure.
*You laugh but just get yourself a bag of Scoops, a bottle of Marie's Blue Cheese, and a tall Hamm's and try scoffing after that taste explosion.
part 2
“I WANT TO BLOW MY FUCKING BRAINS OUT. THE WAY SHE TALKS ABOUT YOU. I GOTTA GO. JUST CALL THE BANK AND FIGURE OUT IF YOU HAVE THIS FUCKING MONEY OR NOT. I GOTTA GO. I DON'T KNOW, JERRY. WHAT? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY? IT WAS FUCKING A COURT CASE THAT GOT BROUGHT UP. JERRY, YOU HAVE NO FAITH IN ANYTHING I SAY AND YOU ACT LIKE I'M FUCKING LYING OR SOMETHING. YOU NEED TO PUT YOUR FUCKING BITCH STUPID FUCKING BITCH-ASS WIFE IN (UNINTELLIGIBLE- “MENTAL CARE”?) AND THAT'S THAT. I'M SERIOUS, JERRY. IF I HAD A GUN RIGHT NOW I'D PROBLY BLOW MY FUCKING BRAINS OUT. SO YOU FIGURE IT OUT BECAUSE I DON'T HAVE A WAY TO GET IT DONE RIGHT NOW. NO, YOU FIGURE IT OUT. I GOTTA FUCKING GO. FUCK YOU.”
after a 5 second silence...
“FUCK. WHY CAN'T THOSE TWO FUCKERS JUST FUCKING KILL THEMSELVES AND STOP MAKING ME FEEL LIKE I'M THE FUCKING PROBLEM. I'M FUCKING SICK OF THIS. I SHOULD BLOW MY BRAINS OUT.”
I didn't turn around to see who was making this foul-mouthed racket. Luckily, there were few people out on that hot day. Certainly her screaming was loud enough to be heard in the row of houses across the street, let alone within the park. I finished up my little account of Carl at the supermarket and put away my computer and listened. Now there was no screaming, only quiet sobbing and a mostly unintelligible account of the wrongs that Jerry and his “bitch-ass wife” had inflicted on the woman, spoken as a soliloquy, not a phone call.
I walked around the chain-link fence that separated the park from a private home and saw her for the first time. Kayla wasn't unique in her looks, a little trashy but not full Wallmart: cheap-looking tank top but blue jeans not pink spandex, blonde hair in a pony tail but a nice, slight strawberry blonde not dishwater blonde, a little overweight, not disgustingly fat.
-Are you OK there?
(now calm and resigned) - Yeah, I'm alright.
-Sounds like you got a huge problem.
-Oh man. You don't know the half of it.
Which was true. I didn't know the quarter or eighth of it, except that in her opinion, she'd been done wrong.
With a kind of ironic but funny frown, I said, “Well, I couldn't help hearing a little about it.”
She sniffled and laughed, a little like a little boy or girl you just coerced out of a crying jag, with some humor, “Yeah, I guess I was a little loud.”
I chuckled along.
She said, “But if you knew what was going on, you wouldn't be surprised how upset I am.”
me- I'll bet it's pretty awful.
That got her to roll her eyes and take a thoughtful puff on her cigarette. “Oh, it's awful all right. And I have no idea how to fix it. But it shouldn't even be my problem.”
She seemed to be calming down nicely, and I was glad that now her every word didn't need an f-bomb as a modifier.
I said, “Can I just say this. You don't look like the type to blow your brains out.”
She laughed. “No, I'm not going to do that.”
Me- I've felt pretty bad before, and though I've never contemplated suicide, I can sort of see how people get to that point.
Kayla- Me too.
Me- But for me, I mean, even if I was so depressed I was suicidal, honestly, I wouldn't have the guts.
Kayla (again with a teary laugh)- Heh. Me neither. Actually I'd never do that. It's a sin against God.
Me- Maybe the biggest one.
Kayla- Yeah, I think it could be.
Me- But you scared me a bit with all that screaming!
Kayla- Heh. Sometimes you have to make some noise if you want anyone to listen.
Me- Well, you got my attention.
Kayla- I know. I really don't want to bother anyone. But sometimes I feel like nobody in the world is listening.
It went on like this for a long while. Her face was puffy from all the crying, and it made her look a bit fatter, but judging by her pretty hair and her bone structure I thought she was probably cute when she was younger. And she wasn't too old to regain that. She had a necklace and some big, plastic or wood bracelets that made a nice sound when she'd raise her arm to take a drag on the cigarette. Sometimes she'd look right at me. Sometimes out at the park. And sometimes she'd finish an anecdote or make a philosophical point, then take a puff and look up at the trees and the sky, taking in the meaning of it all. She held her lit cigarette in one hand, and her pack of Winstons and marijuana pipe in the other. Even though it seemed she was completely comfortable talking to me, it was as if she wasn't taking any chances on losing those cigs and that pipe, by putting them down on the picnic table. The tears came back when she told me the sad trajectory of her life and her recent troubles with Jerry and his wife. When she was 21, three months after her mom died, she got in a horrible car accident and her legs were seriously injured. She was so low she didn't think she could make it, and didn't really want to try. Not long after that her dad died. But she survived, her legs got better, and toward the end of her 20s she met Jerry.
“He was the first guy to really see potential in me. He really appreciated me for who I was. I didn't have any self respect at all before Jerry. You know what he said to me?”
-What?
- He said he thought I was wonderful and…
and here, dear reader, I have to say I can't remember what was the second thing Jerry told Kayla. It must not have been that significant (or even significantly insignificant, if you get what I mean), at least not for me. I could claim poetic license and make something up, but then the story might ring untrue, which it would be.
Kayla cried again when she said, “How can I help it if I fell in love with him?”
me- And he was married?
Kayla- Well, yeah.
me- How old is he?
Kayla- He's 58 now.
me- And he's been married a long time?
Kayla- Yeah.
I paused and let that hang in the air for a while. Kayla took a puff and said,
“Look at me. I'm 31 and in this mess!” she said.
me- Do you mean you're too old for all this, or too young?”
K- I mean I'm too old.
me- I'm 57. 31 isn't that old.
K- I know.
me- You still have about a hundred years before you're my age.
K- Hah. Yeah.
me- But you understand you can't continue with this situation.
K-Yeah.
me- Look, I'm no counselor or itinerant preacher. I'm just a nobody with problems like you and everyone else, but can I ask you something?
K- Go ahead.
me- You know you have a decision, to continue on with this ugly situation or break free, right?
K -Yeah.
me- And you know that, well, this situation isn't right.
K- Yeah, I know.
me- But it's hard to leave the guy who made you feel special.
K- It is!
me- But you told me about breaking both your legs right after your mom died, and having to relearn how to walk, and how that was the hardest thing ever for you.
K- Yeah, it was.
me- So what's harder- a 21 year old getting over her mother's death and a near death accident that leaves you in a wheelchair, or having ten more years of maturity at 31 and leaving an adulterous affair that you know is wrong?
K- Yeah, it was harder what happened at 21. That was the worst thing in the world.
me- So you already know you can take on something harder than your current situation.
K- Yeah. I do. You're right.
me- Maybe things aren't as terrible as they seem. I mean, look around you. This park is beautiful. And do you realize how beautiful Montana is? Have you traveled?
K- Yeah, I know. I'm lucky to be here. It is really nice here.
me- People here complain about the summer being too hot. But I love it. In Japan, outside you can't escape the heat. Here, you just slip into the shade and you're fine, even if it's pushing a hundred.
K- Yeah.
me- I mean, today is a hot day, but I feel pretty good here in the shade of that huge tree.
K- Me too. I come to this park a lot.
The conversation got progressively lighter. We made each other laugh a few times. I told her about how I almost went to Napp's and wouldn't have met her if I'd have gone, and she said, “Oh, I love Napp's. I always get the special burger and get the avocado and the grilled pineapple.”
me- My son likes to get the grilled mushrooms.
K- That's pretty good too.
Me- I always get the plain, to save money.
K- Yeah, you can just go to the condiment thing and practically make yourself a side salad anyway.
Me- Yeah! That's exactly what I do!
K- Me too!
Me- Fellow cheapskates!
K- Haha. Yep.
Then the conversation meandered and it was less about her and more about the friends she hangs out with. Relationships, people's jobs, broken-down cars, family problems. I had to get moving.
Kayla said, “Hey. I appreciate you coming over here and talking to me. I really do.”
“Oh, No problem. I enjoyed our talk,” I said.
K- Me too.
Me- I gotta get going. You take care of yourself.
K- OK....I guess I need to find someone to go to Napp's with for lunch.
I don't know if she was looking for more hours of company, or a free lunch at Napp's, but I said, “I've already eaten. Good luck!”
“Thanks. Goodbye.”
part 3
Then I left the park and went to the library to finish off this blog post. They have air-conditioning and a fast wifi connection, and there are no masking requirements, like there were in 2020.
I sat down at a table to write but couldn't help hearing the conversation between an older couple behind me.
Man- What about the vegetarian platter?
Woman- Look at the soup and salad platter.
Man- “Chicken sizzle. homemade.”
Woman- salad. you don't want...
M- No, I'm looking to see what things they have.
W- “Red cabbage. Vegetarian is available.”
M- First let's finish schnitzels. There's grilled shnitzel.
M- That's Yaeger schnitzel!
W- But they don't bread it.
M-That's sausage and sausage and sausage. Let's get to the beer.
W-Where's the beer?
M-Are you kidding me? they don't list the beer? “Currently unavailable.”
W-Wait. Look here. On draft.
M-”Helles, pils.”
OK. I got that they were planning on going to a German restaurant. It seemed they weren't going to allow any surprises and wanted to know exactly what they were getting into before walking into that restaurant.
W-Yes, but whose, uh... what brand?
M-But they have...it seems like something I would like.
W-Andreas...you could ask her about Andreas specifically.
M-I'm trying to get back into this restaurant.
W-But that's the sausage. it has the highest rating.
M- 4.9. Do you want to look at the images?
“Man!' I thought to myself. Is this the modern state of dining? Micro-research into every detail of a restaurant? Where's the adventure?
W-I don't want to look at any more. we should...
M-”Not a single covid protocol was observed.”
W- Ugh. where are they from?
M- Ha. California.
W-Now the average is...52% said...
M-Look at 3 or 4. see what they have to say.
W- “Most servers are not wearing masks.”
M-These people must people must be from... oh. They're from Seattle.
I asked myself, who is more pathetic, this couple micro-managing a visit to a restaurant, or me, furiously transcribing all of it?
W-It's in the basement they said.
M-Do you want to check any more German?
W- Do you want a free vacation guide to Leavenworth?
M-Sure.
Ah, they were going to Leavenworth, not the federal prison or the little town in Bavaria, but the American copy of a Bavarian town in Washington state, on the east side of the Cascades, about 3 1/2 hours from Seattle.
M-Let's check German bakeries. There's a Danish bakery, but it looks pretty German. What the...
W-Do you think we'll be OK with just sandals?
M-It's going to come in with Mr. Ts.
W- Delivery today. UPS.
Wow. I tried to imagine this conversation in Japan. They were sharing every thought they had in their heads while browsing online together. I tried to imagine this level of interest and teamwork with my wife and I had to laugh. God bless couples that love to plan and shop together, but it's not for me.
M-OK. Have we done what we're going to do?
W-Uh. No. We were looking for the guide.
M-Danish bakery? What's a Danish bakery doing in Leavenworth?
W-You could ask about German bakeries if you call up.
M- I like this, will chat later. I don't know what this is about.
W- OK. I want to go.
M- It doesn't show anything.
W-But I can't copy the facebook stuff on my...can you copy that and send it to me?
M-OK. What do you want to call it?
W-Uh, Party in 7 months.
Shumway, you idiot. They weren't going on a date together. They were planning a big shindig, and wanted to get it right and make it a seamless, wonderful event for all.
W- If you send it to my hotmail.
M- That's what I just said!
W- Can you send it to your phone?
M- No, this doesn't send to the phone
W- Oh, I can't see that, you're going too fast.
M- Of course I'm going too fast....I just saved it to camera roll. what's . what...
W- There it is.
M-mm OK. It'll come in on ADL. Mine came in, I think.
W- OK, let's go.
And she headed for the exit. The guy stayed a little longer to put the laptop in the case. As he was leaving, he walked by me and said, “Hey, you know you can hook up your power chord right there to that outlet.”
Me- Oh, thank you.
Man- You're welcome. Have a great day!
And then I said to myself, “Shumway, you putz!”