Two things I enjoy immensely are smoking and people-watching. So you’ll often find me perched on my back porch on my smoking chair (found it in the garbage!) funding Phillip Morris’s latest venture (baby-eating, or Olympic Puppy Kicking, probably) and watching the drama of the courtyard. I live in a garden apartment complex, which means the back courtyard has three buildings around it, with two upstairs and two downstairs apartments in each. The live theatre that results is better than any soap opera. And thus I present…
As The Courtyard Turns!
Part the first: Our players:
Our Beloved Heroine: Devastatingly adorable single thirty-something female. Perfect in every way. Our Narrator. Downstairs Apt.1.
Clompy Stomp: Heavy-footed single woman of indeterminate age. Enjoys vacuuming at 11 pm in very heavy shoes that are perhaps made of concrete. Never actually seen. Upstairs Apartment #1.
Creepy Empty Apartment: Refugee from Beckett play. Symbolic of failing economy; the meaninglessness of life, Former abode of abandoned kitchen sink under porch. Downstairs apt. #2.
Bud McFrat: Twenty-something male, facially reminiscent of a ferret. Enjoys barbecuing, Coors Light, and his equally fratty friends. Upstairs apt.#2
Aw, An Old Man: Widower of indeterminate yet extremely advanced age. Calls me "Jantelle." Enjoys cake for breakfast (he told me!), talking about death (all the time!) wearing boxer shorts and raggy t-shirts and keeping his door open. Whimper. Across Apt. #1.
The Two A-Holes: Yuppie scum. Rude. Never say hi or wave, even when prompted by your beloved heroine. Have two yappy A-hole dogs. So stereotypical it’s not even funny. Except that one time the one A-Hole was carrying a man-purse (murse?) and I laughed really hard and he heard me. That was awesome. Across Apt. 2.
Frantically Waving Telenovela Family: Young, gorgeous female, her not…so gorgeous or young husband, two preposterously adorable tiny children. Smoking buddies of Our Beloved Heroine. Always wave. Kind of frantically. Very into the waving. Have very loud and passionate fights in Spanish, often just wearing undergarments. Once I saw their son drop an ashtray off the balcony and it almost hit one of the A-holes right in the head. Man, that kid is awesome. Upstairs Across Apt.1
Not-Carrie Bradshaw: Single woman, thirtysomething, "in sales." Various male companions, one more meat-headed than the last. Various female friends, one more high-pitched than the last. Not-Carrie enjoys the vino tinto, and gets progressively louder in her insipid conversations with the meatheads and/or friends as the bottles are drained. Our intrepid heroine once considered making a large sign that said "DUDE, SWITCH TO WATER, IT’S NOT EVEN 8:30 YET" to assist Not-Carrie in not falling over the balcony during a dinner date. Our heroine lives to help, you know. Upstairs Across Apt.2
So there you have it, our cast of characters. Upcoming adventures?
- The Day Our Heroine Almost Threw Down With The A-holes
- That Time Aw, An Old Man Talked About Death For 20 Minutes
- The Continuing Adventures of the Frantically Waving Telenovela Family!
As The Courtyard Turns is brought to you by Parliament Lights and Folgers Coffee. It’s the Breakfast of Champions!