Beefsteak, Band-Aid or Mardi Gras Mask
Posted: Sunday, January 18, 2009
by John Brazell
This was a small bump in the road, the kind that could get you thrown in jail.
My main girl came home from her doctor's appointment with a couple of small discolorations on her face that quickly turned into bruises. To her they appeared the size of a turkey platter so I suggested she put away the magnifying mirror. And < smiling > that she stretch them under her eyes and pose as a scrawny member of the local baseball team.
Contrast that to when I go to my dermatologist, Doc Blowtorch, and leave with my face resembling a piece of meat thrown onto a fire-ant bed. Do I summarily cower and disassociate from the world? No, I go out and scare people.
She was certain her current stash of enhancements - paints, creams and balms - was inadequate to prepare her for public exposure. The only remedies of which I was aware involved a beefsteak, band-aid or Mardi Gras mask. Of the three we had band-aids, mostly with sparkles, which she dismissed not with a word but with "the look". To make some sort of contribution to solving the growing problem I went to my trusty source of medical care, the Internet.
Cutting to the chase, I Googled, "Cover bruises on woman's face". No reasonable remedy surfaced so it was off to the apothecary twins - Walgreen's and CVS - which, incidentally, are on every corner and like the fungus they claim to cure, are engulfing the free world. I left for the Rx - in my RX car, an omen I was certain - with a few hints from her and a mission not to return until I had a miracle cure.
I chose Walgreen's assuming they, like any place that trades on Sammy Walton's name, must have friendlier greeters and a better PA system with which to announce the specials. Plus "CVS" could be a TV station, plastic pipe or electronic part. Why don't these people come up with a real name, like "Drug Store"?
To say I felt peculiar roaming the women's makeup department fondling bottles is accurate, though men doing girly things isn't considered strange in Austin --witness Leslie Cochran. Leslie was our cross-dressing mayoral runner-up who campaigned on street corners in a bikini, stiletto heels and enough makeup to paint the UT tower. His ideas on economic development weren't real good but his application of eye shadow, mascara and lipstick was impeccable assuming you like a lot of it.
Walgreen's is actually a women's cosmetics warehouse and museum posing as a pill dispensary. There are ten-thousand bottles, tubes and pads of something to put on your face. I pulled down my bucket-hat, raised my collar and set out to read every label.
A clerk, having sized me up as a suspicious old coot -- obviously getting the latter part right -- eventually came close enough for me to explain my plight. "My wife has bruises on her face and is looking for, ah, cover-up cream. What do you recommend?"
There was an awkward pause so I rambled on as she nervously panned the shelves.
"Of course, my wife would be here doing this but she thinks the bruises are worse then they really are. Actually they're not too bad. Ah, it wasn't me < chuckle > no not me. I don't beat my wife < chuckle, chuckle > . No sir-eee. It was the doctor she was seeing that did it -- well, not seeing, but you know, saw."
The clerk pointed at a product, I called home for confirmation, zipped my VISA and hustled out. Whatever happened to rouge anyway? Growing up with all women in my household I thought it would cover anything. Plus I like rosy cheeks.
She took the product, tested it and declared it "not likely". I retreated to the safety of my computer where my last Internet query stared back, unforgiving, irrevocably, from the screen -- "Covering bruises on woman's face". The enormity of it all hit me.
I've watched CSI, Perry Mason and Judge Judy enough to know that I had inadvertently turned myself into a prime suspect in a wife-beating that didn't happen. There's a receipt, credit-card transaction and an Internet query. Plus there's a clerk who's the star witness, "Yes Judge, he was looking for cover-up for bruises and was trying to cover-up. He pulled down his hat, turned up his collar and blamed the bruises on the doctor. More to the point, your learned and handsome honor, the man doth protest too much, methinks."
Just my luck, I got the only clerk in the free world who quotes Shakespeare.
See how easy it is to convict an innocent man? Things are not always as they seem. For the first time I wondered if O J was really guilty. Nah.
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Top-level comments on this article: (2 total)What a great story, you caught me off guard at the end where you mention you have just set yourself up, how clever! Your story seems to be a pre-emptive measure to counter these so called mistakes... doctor did it, huh?Thankyou for sharing the story. I loved the wit and occasional choice of ten dollar words to stimulate the old brain. I've joined your fan club and look forward to reading your offerings yet to come.Thanks Myla, for your (too) kind words. I'm glad you enjoyed the story. In this world, one just never knows, eh? A kidder, like moi, can get himself in some interesting situations. Nevertheless, there's plenty of humor in everyday life and we all know "laughter is still the best medicine."Keep smiling and, for sure, keep writing.Best to you,John
John,Great write. Very entertaining, and an eye-opener as well...I wonder about OJ sometimes myself...Well, thank you very much Ronyae (and what a pretty name).There's seldom a need for fiction when the truth is so interesting -and- often humorous. Or maybe it only happens to me, though I think not.Best to you in all your writing. It is a wonderful gift.Regards,John
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