The Mile High Club by Kinky Friedman

Author:Kinky Friedman
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Simon & Schuster
Published: 0100-12-31T22:00:00+00:00

26

W H E N she learned that the suitcase was missing, Khadija was not a happy terrorist. I did my best to feign shock and surprise as I stood at the door of the violated closet and ejaculated appropriate phrases of figurative bull semen, but I’m not sure I completely brought it off. It was an interesting little chess game, however. My position was that I was totally confounded by the disappearance of the suitcase while making no mention, of course, as to the nature of its contents. Her position was one of displaying a sort of controlled irritation over the lost baggage but not wanting to push it far enough so as to make me overly curious as to what might’ve been inside. The war of wills quickly devolved from a game of chess to a poker game in which both of us were obviously bluffing.

The erstwhile passionate couple seemed somewhat star-crossed by the time we said our rather curt farewells, and Khadija blew out of the loft like a sandstorm in the Sahara. Before she left we’d both said all the right things about the suitcase that had come between us. She allowed as to how she really had to get the suitcase back or her brother would kill her, which could’ve been the truth. She watched me carefully as she elaborated that the suitcase contained all of her brother’s latest software, which was about as far from the truth as you could get. I did my best to adopt the expression and the manner of an innocent bystander in New York. There are, of course, very few innocent bystanders in New York, and if they would please step forward I’m sure they would be T-boned by the Hampton Jitney.

For my part, I wailed a bit about the lack of security in the building, swearing up and down that this kind of thing had happened before and by God it really had to stop. I didn’t, of course, mention the visit from the State Department boys or allude to the fact that the fraudulent passports were at that very moment sandwiched, in cat litter terms, several archaeological layers beneath the city of Troy.

Both of us gave rather convincing performances, I thought, and we vowed to meet again. Neither of us doubted that destiny would probably bring us together again. Because of circumstances beyond our control, neither of us was really looking forward to that occasion. In affairs of this nature, somebody always gets hurt.

“Of course the possibility always exists,” I said to the cat, moments after Khadija’s exit, “that the State Department doesn’t have the suitcase. Khadija got into the loft this time. Maybe she or some of her gang got in before, took the suitcase, found the passports missing, and now they’ve sent her back to gain my confidence and find what I’ve done with the passports. She did give a pretty convincing performance, though.”

The cat looked at me with pity in her eyes. Then she turned

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