Thursday, January 22, 2009

Kansas City has good bar-b-que and coke

I'm a block away from a grocery store with a $4.99/pound salad bar that rivals Whole Foods' and is $3 cheaper. This is like a cop walking up to me and handing me my drugs back and then arresting himself.

Oh and speaking of drugs, I went to an all-you-can-eat bar-b-que place last night called "Ridiculous Ribs." So there I am, chewing on a handful of pulled pork (sans the sammich bun) and slurping down Diet Dr Pepper (from a can hidden in my purse) and out of nowhere this man and woman come up to my table. I am alone and frightened. (The rest of the cast went to "Wagon Wacker's" for Bar-b-Que). I know why they are coming up to me. "Are you in (name of show)?" the (hot) woman asks, while the man is staring at me like he wants to divorce his (hot) wife and marry me in one of the 4 states that allows that sort of demonic behavior.

We have that awkward conversation I always do when audience members visit me when I'm eating, shopping for wine or getting on the bus drunk. Then out of the blue the man interrupts his hot wife and asks "You want some coke?"

The next morning (which would be today) I wake up in their bed in a log cabin that ends up being two hours away from Kansas City, my hotel and my bag of pot (which my roommate swears he does not dip into). I am so freaked out but I notice I am alone in the bed. I look around for signs of deviant behavior. All I see is one of those spinny things attached to the ceiling you hang above baby cribs and pretty photos of panda bears on the walls.

I put my clothes back on and walk downstairs towards the hot wafting of coffee I smell. There they are, like a Folgers commercial, smiling and offering me coffee.

It turns out they were waiters at that bar-b-que restaurant. Last night they were offering me COKE coke. Not coke COKE. I'd gotten so excited at the thought of free nose-heaven, I passed out: I was already high on meth and two rabbit abortion pills I bought from this chick at that grocery store with the (hot) salad bar. They got scared and took me home because (as they told me) I had no ID in my wallet and no cast members around. (Wagon Wacker's, remember?)

The man and the (hot) woman drove me back to my hotel in their clean-as-hell Suburban. Along the way they told me about their history with theatre, their love of the show I am in and how they'd always wanted a son. What? As I was stepping onto the curb in front of my hotel and about to say my goodbyes, the (hot) wife handed me a blue box. It said Tiffanys on the top. I said thank you and she grabbed my face and pulled it to hers and whispered "Don't open it until you get to your room... my child."

They sped away and I ran up to my room (bypassing the elevator) to the 23rd floor like the spoiled child I'd always wanted to be and opened the box. There was a silver (I think) rattle and a note that said "We never had the child we wanted, and you seem so sweet and true, we'd like you to be our child, if you say no we'll kill you. Here's our number. Love, Mom and Dad."

And so I leave Kansas City in one day knowing that in my (possibly near) future, I will have to make a choice. Do I continue my flaming-hot career and toss this threat off as a joke, or do I go to them and have the childhood I always wanted... for the rest of my life?

PS: the rattle is silver. I just had it appraised at "Treenie B's" pawn shop and liquor store next door to our hotel. Hot damn, another night of rabbit abortion pills!

1 comment:

Darrel Whitney said...

Rabbit Abortion pills. I laughed so hard I think I sharted.