If I Were a Rich Man

By Larry Teren

Tell me- do I look rich to you? Is it my debonair countenance? Or as an older friend said to me a week ago, “Cmon! You got deep pockets.” If my hands go the distance into my pants pockets, it’s only because there are holes in ’em and I’m too cheap to buy replacements. (Ed. Note- pants, not hands) Besides, you know what it’s like going to Walmart and waiting to use the one dressing room set aside for the male of the species. You wait impatiently while listening to the dressing room “receptionist” speak to another lady in Croatian. (If it was in Spanish, at least you can fake understanding their chat and smile when they laugh while also throwing in a couple words you remember from high school. Words like “muchachas, por favor- esperando diez minutos.” You’re holding onto the two limit pair of slacks that you know read the right size on the label but somehow are too tight when you attempt to squeeze into them. Finally, you get the nod, go into the little room with the misaligned door and try to figure out how to take your pants off without removing your shoes and then putting on the replacements. Continue reading “If I Were a Rich Man”

No Laugh In Matter

By Larry Teren

Phone Conversation taking place at some point in 1984:
Me: “Judy said that she made all those late night prank calls because you encouraged her to do so. Do you deny it?”

Perry: (silence)

Me: “Well?”

Perry: “Aw, what’s the big deal? She’s only saying it to get back at me.”

Me: “But you don’t deny it. (pause) That’s it. We’re done. Through. Good bye.”

And so ended a twenty-five year friendship. We had started kindergarten together back in 1958 and for nine years- the Wonder Years, as they say- we lived four doors down the block from each other. We spent many hours together playing ball, riding bikes and other intrepid things kids did. Later on, post-college we went to singles events daring each other to start a conversation with Miss Right at any moment. Perry even came running over one night to my townhouse after a frantic call to help get rid of a mouse who was too quick for my broom sweeps.
Continue reading “No Laugh In Matter”