Grand Slam High Noon at Denny's - The End!
Read Part One and Part Two
I picked up a menu and perused the shiny photographs of simple foods with tacky names. Hmmmmm. Should I get the Grand Slam? Or the Rooty Tooty Fresh 'n Fruity? 10 broke my concentration, poked my menu and whispered sotto voce.
"Uh Mom? That lady is like three times bigger than you! And she looks mean, too. I don't think you should beat her up."
I set the menu next to my paper napkin. I looked at both boys. They looked from Huge Hair Diedre to me with fear in their eyes. Our waitress hovered near our table, saw us in deep conversation, retreated to the long formica bar.
"Uh, 'take her down' is just an expression, boys. Have I ever beat up anyone before?" I asked the question with one eye raised and a laugh in my voice but 8 answered with a wavering yelp.
"How would we know? We're always in school."
He had a point.
"Well boys, this Denny's is our own private Starship Enterprise. And I'm the Captain. You know how when the Enterprise is in trouble, they don't always fight back with photon torpedos? You know how they use their noggins and try to outsmart the Borg?" I used images my boys would understand. They knit their brows in unison.
"Too bad we can't just remodulate the dilithium matrix field," 8 muttered.
"Or teleport her to the moon," added 10. I had to agree.
I waved Madame Denny's back to our table. The boys ordered club sandwiches with piles of fries and I opted for a piece of coconut cream pie and a banana milkshake. The waitress dropped a basket of crayons in the center of the table and the boys chose their favorite colors and began coloring their combination placemat-menus. I watched them fill in a rinky dink crossword puzzle and complete a word search, kept my eyes glued to the colors swirling across the page, and it gave me an idea. I opened my purse, took inventory, grabbed a bag of rose lipstick samples and stood on the edge of my booth seat. My boys didn't notice.
"Attention, ladies! Gentlemen, too, if you know what's good for ya!"
I swooped my arms in the manner of all great carnival barkers and bowed at the waist.
"Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Birdie. I sell Avon. And not just ANY Avon, but the very best in lipcolors in this known universe! Lipstick can change your life! Who needs a touch up? Come on down. Don't be shy."
Every eye in the joint was on my teetering body, on the shimmering plastic package I held high over my head. My boys continued coloring, and I noticed 10 squirm a bit in embarrassment.
"Like I said, Lipstick can be a savior! It gives you confidence! It gives you flair!" I continued hawking the joys of Avon lipstick as a crowd formed around my table. All the waitresses gathered around, too, and I saw a cook with stringy hair under a black net peek around the delivery counter. I didn't dare look in Diedre's direction. I handed out book and sample after book and sample, passing my compact around so each woman could freshen up, look her best.
"Behold the power of lipstick!" I added a few more phrases I remembered from my Gramma's passion with Benny Hinn, and considered pressing my hand against a forehead or two but thought the better of it. I had their attention, so I moved in for the kill.
"And anyone who places an order with me today, gets the lipstick of her choice, for free!" And that, as they say, was that. I collected a few hundred bucks in orders, and swapped contact info with nearly every woman in the house. Diedre slunk out the side door. I caught the hair squishing against the door frame, and noticed her customer was now standing in MY line! Whoopee!!
I organized the orders, and sat down to eat, and aw, man. The boys finished their sandwiches, fries, cokes, and MY pie and milkshake. Well, serves me right, I figured. At least I made out ahead! I didn't forget that prize basket back at Avon HQ, either, made up my mind to finish off the campaign with a flourish.
A few weeks later, I dressed up in my best blouse and my trademark kilt. I even wore heels and as much Avon as I could cram on my face. I was ready for my anointment as Grand Champion. I sat in a front row seat,and Diedre glared at me from the corner of her eyes from her seat on the opposite side of the room. Our beloved manager stepped to the podium to announce the winner. I could barely breath! I stared at the basket, knew my sales must be top this campaign, and folded my arms in anticipation.
"Ladies, thank you for a bang-up campaign! I can't believe how much you all sold! Now,I promised the gift basket" - and here he made a motion with his perspiring arms like Vanna White - "to the highest seller. But something unusual happened. I received a few anonymous calls about some unsportsmanship-like behavior from two of our top representatives, so I've decided to award our third seller the prize! Jade, come on up!"
Tiny Jade made her way from the middle to the stage, her body wrapped in a leopard print dress and her gorgeous Filipino skin carefully made up in the Avon beComing line colors. The goodies were nearly her size, and she hoisted the booty in both arms and tottered back to her seat. Damn. Goodbye velvet slippers. Goodbye total makeover. Crap.
I didn't need to wonder who made the "anonymous" calls. As I waved goodbye to the women at the completion of the meeting, Diedre passed me. Her hair brushed against my shoulder, and I managed to give her a Sorry smile. She stopped for a moment, looked me over head to toe, then winked. An evil dark-rimmed-eyeliner wink.
As I told my boys that night, sometimes the stupid Borg DOES win the battle. Sigh.
1:53:38 PM 
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