Echoes of Ambrose

Last night at the movies: a daring raid on an 24-hour check-cashing place on Halloween night was planned by a thirtyish Laura Antonelli and a middle-aged Jim Backus, who had the Hawaiian shirt of Thurston Howell III and the mannerisms of a sinister Mr. Magoo. (Actually, Howell doesn’t seem to have worn a Hawaiian shirt. My subconscious may have been confusing him with the Hawaiian Punch guys.)

Antonelli had recruited me for the caper. Also figuring in the plot was a goofy black cat with pipe-cleaner limbs who was the only member of the gang that everyone liked, and a Kelly-green velvet frock-coat that was supposed to be part of someone’s disguise for the robbery. 

Antonelli’s plan-within-a-plan was that she and I would freeze out Magoo with the help of her friend (a Cat People-era Nastassia Kinski), who would pretend to be ill. While he was busy tending to her, Antonelli and I would commit the robbery by ourselves. 

Antonelli was acting crazy while Kinski was off roping Magoo, and I told her I was out. She wanted it too much; she was making mistakes; and I had to figure that, if she was ready to doublecross Magoo, she was likely to do the same to me. 

Antonelli was still trying to get me to change my mind when Kinski, on schedule, faked her illness. Antonelli insisted that Magoo take Kinski to the hospital. Magoo declined, looking on us with a kind of genial malice, and said that Kinski was Antonelli’s friend and she should take her—that he and I had things to talk about.

I figured that Magoo had tumbled to Antonelli’s plan, and I was interested to see what would happen next when I woke up.

Moral of the story: don’t watch two old crime movies before bed. Or: stay asleep longer.

Mirrored from Ambrose & Elsewhere.

I don’t know if you knew this about me, but I’ll buy a book every now and then. Because I am not a crazy person (anyway, I’ve never been officially diagnosed), before I’ll buy a book I see if I already own it in some form.

My books are organized according to a principle I call chunking and what others call not organized. If I’m looking for a Leiber book, I know I have a chunk of them there, and another chunk over there and a third chunk in another place.

Mirrored from Ambrose & Elsewhere.