My Journal
By Harriman Nelson
38
“Oh, hi Admiral,” Jackson
said as the image from his laptop formed on the Observation Nose monitor.
“You’ll have to forgive my appearance,” he added, dusting some flour off of his
shirt. “Just got back from the pasta class.”
“Er, yes...did you enjoy
it?”
“Yes and no. Yes, in that I
have a new appreciation for the pasta made from scratch, and no, because I’m
never going to be able to make it myself, at least not very well.”
“Well, it does take a
little practice, I’m sure. I want to speak with Lee."
“Er, he’s not back yet.
Have to tell you, I’m a little worried. We have a cheese factory tour to go to
in a few minutes and…ahh, here’s the
prodigal now,” he added as Lee entered, rather disheveled. “As I was saying,
after we check out the cheese, we’re going to race up that ancient tower before
dinner. Though, I ‘m sure you know who the winner is going to be already,” he
added, pointing to himself with a smirk.
“Eat your words, Mr.
Jackson,” Lee said and tossed a paper bag onto the bed.
“About time you got back,”
Joe chided, “...you smell... I’m not sure of what, but you’d better use plenty
of soap. And hurry!”
“Sorry,” Lee said
sheepishly, “kind of got...distracted,” he added and pulled out a set of keys
from his pocket and waved them.
Joe swiped them from out of
Lee’s hand and studied the logo. “Lamborghini! Aw, shucks, Lee, I was hoping
for a Ferrari! I sure hope that stink’s not their version of ‘new car smell’.”
“No. She’s right out in
front. Told the doorman you’d be down in a sec for a spin. Now, don’t dent her
or scratch the paint!”
“Er, what color is she, Lee?”
Chip asked.
“Black with silver chrome.”
“Black? Shit, I lost my bet
with Ames...”
“And, Joe," Lee said, "be
sure you
introduce yourself to Sophia,” Lee said.
“Huh? You brought a girl
back with you, too? Should have known,” Joe sighed.
“Sophia’s AI. Artificial Intelligence option. Figured I
might as well name it something. Tells time, GPS directions, when I’m too close
to the curb, other cars, needs a wash, gas, oil change, etc. Had a choice of
four female and five male voices...and ten languages!”
“Okay, I’ll bite, why
‘Sophia’.”
“What woman is more Italian
than Sophia Loren? Oh, and you can set the auto controls to park for you. Very
handy for narrow curvy roads like they have here.”
“Just how much did this fairy
tale car cost you, bro?”
“Oh, about most of my
projected retirement fund. Go on, enjoy yourself. I need to get some of his barn straw off
me.”
“Barn straw? Lee...”
“Go on. I’ll fill you in
later.”
I swear Joe made it
to the door and out in one second flat.
“Well, Harry,” Lee said,
sitting down in front of the laptop as Joe left. “I’m back, safe and sound. And
hungry...wait a sec.”
He popped up and grabbed
the bag and pulled out a very familiar looking sandwich.
“Look at this! A real bone
fide Bologna sandwich!”
“Er, yes. Why were you late
getting back?”
“Took the scenic route....”
“You got lost, didn’t you?”
“Okay,” Lee admitted,
taking a bite of the sandwich, savoring it, before he continued, “I got lost.
Finally had to stop at a farmhouse to get directions, only...they didn’t know
English. And I didn't have Joe's phrase book. All I could do was wave my arms about and say Bologna over and
over again. The wife, well, I presumed it was the wife, dragged me into her
kitchen and made me sit there while she made me a sandwich. Her husband,
meanwhile, phoned his parish priest to come over to translate. Seems he’d
learned a little English on a sabbatical in San Francisco. Anyway he finally
got things cleared up and gave me directions back to the main road and the turn
offs I needed to make to get here. I wanted to leave some money for their
trouble, but the priest shook his head ‘no’. Seems it would have insulted their
hospitality. In any case, I felt bad about it and asked if there was something
I could do for them to show my appreciation...hmm. This is a good sandwich...”
“And just what did you end
up doing?” Chip asked.
“Well, since I was a
cowboy, at least according to the Italian press, he thought I must know
something about cows...but the family didn’t have any steers to round up, just
a milk cow. Never knew that milking a cow was so appreciated by barn cats....”
“You milked a cow,” Chip
said, trying hard not to laugh.
“I milked a cow and must
have stepped on a cow pat...”
“Lee, having difficulty
with livestock is becoming a bad habit of yours,” I laughed.
“They wanted to talk me
into taking some of the new kittens they had, but I had to decline. Even if
they tried to convince me, through the priest, that they’d make good ship’s cats. I finally managed
to escape, without any of them and only made a couple more wrong turns till finally I got the signs
for Bologna, and viola, made it here.”
“Lee!” Joe shouted as he
returned, “man, that is one classy car, but there isn't really time to take her for a spin. What are you doing chatting?
Get
cleaned up. We have to hurry!”
“Relax. We don’t have to
take the tour bus. We’re going to get to the cheese factory in style.”
“Lee, where's your brain? The
cheese factory is
in Modena.”
“Oh. Well, er...I guess I’d
better hurry then...bye, Harry. Talk to you later...and just so there’s no
mistake, Joe, ‘I’m’ going to win the tower climb when we get back.”
“Very funny, Lee,” Joe
said, “I’ll go tell Mrs. Piccadilly to hold the bus a few minutes. Been nice
talking with you Admiral.”
“Same here, Commander.”
“Lee?” Chip asked, “there’re
some evil looking streaks in your hair."
“Streaks? Oh. Must have
been from Daisy’s tail...that’s the cow...”
“Kind of figured,” I said.
“Enjoy the cheese tour...talk to you later, son.”
“Bye, Harry,” Lee said with
a grin as he turned off the laptop.
I couldn’t help it. I
started to laugh along with Chip and the entire Control Room crew.
“Sir,” O’Brien finally
managed, “should we let Cookie know that he was right on the button regarding
Bologna Sandwiches?”
“Absolutely,” Chip said.
“Admiral, it’s really weird. Lee must be the only new Lamborghini owner who
ends up milking a cow and getting said bovine shit in his hair ... I wonder what’s going to happen to him at the cheese
factory....”
“God only knows, Chip. God
only knows.”
