Little Wooden Men cont.

“Well?” Dorothy looked dead into my eyes like she was looking for my soul.
“Well?” She repeated. Her green eyes were interesting to say the least. They made me want to pluck them out and cherish them. They were beautiful. They were wonderfully gorgeous, dazzlingly brilliant.
“Ok, here it is…you are awfully small.” My tongue stumbled.
“Awful?” She continued to bore tiny holes through my pupils. Trying to explain I said, “Not like a bad awful, it’s just an expression. A figure of speech.” My tongue didn’t want to move anymore.
“Small, yes, but cute aren’t I? would you say I was deformed or a midget,
maybe a dwarf?” She grinned that Mona Lisa look again. I looked away.
“No, I don’t think that….besides I don’t think midgets or dwarfs are deformed…just out of proportion.” My tongue was now twisted and ill.
“Look me in the eyes again.” She said. I did. She continued to speak.
“Yes I am in proportion. You should see me naked.”
If I was a European man I would have blushed a bright red.
There was a long silence.

During the dead time, a Busboy came to our table with a wet towel, a wet miniature towel, a rag of sorts. He cleaned the mess from our space.
Simultaneously, Dorothy and I said “ Thank-you”.
Taking the ketchup container with him, he swiftly, scooted away.
He returned a “ You are welcome”. The Busboy was gone.

“What do you do?” Dorothy quickly asked.
“Right now, I would like some coffee and a muffin.” Tired of her
Company, I didn’t think she really cared.
“Seriously.” No snap, just direct. “ What do you do?” She added.
“Entrepreneur.” I answered.
“Oh”
“Oh?” I questioned.
The same teenager came back to the table. He now played the role of waiter. His ponytail fit the part. He put two menus on the table, and then disappeared again. Dorothy spoke again.
“Entrepreneur. Look at the way it is spelled. Kind of sick, twisted,
and pretty corrupt looking.” She was pushing it. She kept at it.
She finished her opinion.
“What I meant is, most of the entrepreneurs I know sell pot
or something, and dump hundreds of thousands into legal enterprises.”

Invading people’s lives seemed natural and easy for her, almost a gift.

Ponytail / Busboy returned with glasses of water, silverware and napkins. He placed all into their respective places.
“Coffee?” He asked. His blue eyes locked with Dorothy’s green ones.
Dot to dot. Pupil to pupil.

“Yes, please.” I interrupted.
“No, thank you.” Sweetly like a tiny Hummingbird, Dorothy refused.
Her charm finally let him go. Busboy busied to his business.


“What’s your project of recent?” Dorothy continued to interrogate.
“A record company.” I revealed. “ Actually a company of companies.”

Busboy didn’t have to go far. He was back. He put a mug in front
of me and poured a dose of Caffeine from a Kraft.
“Thank you “ I offered. He smiled, and then scurried off to tend to other
duties.

“A record company?” Ms. Oz pressed on with her calm assault.
“Yes.” Came from my mouth as I sipped a bit of coffee.
“Why?” There she went again, she pushed my GET DEFENSIVE
button. She tugged at my LEAVE ME ALONE string.

“Because of a band called Future2.” I forced a human response.
“Oh.” She looked at me like I was joking.