Hi all! I wrote a little story about No Tears at the Gathering Place and there was a sap there named Calvin crying in his beer. I would like to invite you for a friendly visit to The Gathering Place. Please come with made up friends or real. Caveat: mention Calvin in some capacity. Have fun!
I first met Calvin at The Gathering Place, a bar on the corner of Pico and 18th . He was wearing a worn Chicago Bears jersey and an old pair of women's jeans. I couldn't help but notice; they buttoned on the wrong side and it explained their high-water length. He was drinking beer and telling me about his latest get rich quick scheme. I wondered aloud: was it worse to be manic with desire for money, or to be numb from wanting nothing? Calvin glared at me as if I had just run over his cat.
'CALVIN' a heap louder but still he took no notice.
What is wrong with that boy...he is off in a world of his own more time than not.
'CALVIN' as she grabbed his shirt collar at the same time giving it a shake.
He turned his head in fright; he had not heard his mother call that was clear.
That was the first she new that something was really wrong and would always remember the look on his face as well he would recall the face of hers; eyes anoyed with anger and frustration.
I’ve had some strange circumstances come through the Personnel Office but I gotta tell ya, Olive, the day we decided to fire your friend Calvin has got to be the strangest.
Joe the supervisor was pretty fed up with his lousy work and especially with listening to the crew bitch about how hard it was to work beside someone who had ancient Budweiser fumes coming out of his pores, so he brought Calvin down to my office and expected me to do his dirty work.
“Well, Calvin,” I started, “I guess you know why we’re having this meeting don’t you?”
The dude stared at me for a few seconds, turned whiter than the stitching on his faded Chicago Bears jersey and then passed out cold, right there on my checkered linoleum.
Freakin’ company policy states that we have to call an ambulance when that happens so my secretary called the damn thing while the security guy tried to snap old Calvin out of it while he just laid there, twitching and bitching about amusement park rides.
When the ambulance arrived with FOUR paramedics (paid by my tax dollars) the whole place was upside down – me worrying about a workers comp claim and Joe getting all sentimental and deciding not to fire him – and we’re still stuck with Calvin.