I’m madder then my lovely wife Sharon when she breaks a nail when trying to tie my tie because I’m all fat thumbs and simply can’t make a double-windsor like I use to over the fact that every time I think I’m out, they pull me back in.
Look, you all know the ol’Screecher is as tight as a clam when it comes to spending them, and I’ll do just about anything to save a buck — or find one — in order to make sure I have cash for my old age.
And I don’t need to tell you that when I roll down the street atop my trusty steed Tornado, I’m not looking where I am going because I’m to busy looking down on the ground. Why? Because money don’t fall up!
So you wouldn’t be surprised to learn that when Sharon called me to let me know that she couldn’t find her wallet during another one of her shopping sprees that reminds me of those 24-hour-dance marathon from those halcyon Happy Days, I practically jumped up out of Tornado and did a jig myself.
Of course, I didn’t let her know how happy I was, laying on the “I feel so bad for you,” and “I’ll call the credit card companies,” and stuff like that. But deep down inside I knew for a fact that here without her billfold for just a few minutes saves me a small fortune.
And by the way, calling the credit card companies is not small job, as Sharon has a proverbial pinochle deck of those plastic things that would make a suicide king do something I wouldn’t necessarily recommend.
But I digresss.
It seems Sharon was walking out of this week’s shameless plug, Pizza D’Amore, near the Best Buys at Caesars Bay Bazaar where the Korvettes used to be, carrying a slice and a Coke and her wallet and the keys to the Plymouth all in one hand. Now, obviously I’ve told her not to do this, but as usual she didn’t listen, and sure enough she dropped something while getting into the car, and it wasn’t the keys, because she drove off.
Off she sped, with her drivers license, registration, and that emergency $20 make her keep behind the picture of our grandkids just in case, left on the floor.
Not to mention the pinochle deck of cards.
By the time Sharon got home, I had already cancelled the Diner’s Club, Master Charge, Players Club with Telly Salavas, and BankAmericard, when she told me we had to rush over to the DMV on West Eighth Street before it closed at three o’clock so she could continue to legally chauffeur me around because she’s afraid to stay awake when I drive, so that means I can’t take her to get her hair done because she doesn’t have enough time to get to sleep. I waited in the car, using my six cellphones to make sure I got as many cards canceled as I could, and she popped inside to get her license. Miraculously, she returned 25 minutes later with a temporary license.
As she was getting into the car, We got a call from the Best Buys asking me if I would authorize a $2,141 purchase of one of them big televisions not made by Zenith. I screamed into the phone “FRAUDULENT PURCHASE! FRAUDULENT PURCHASE!” and claimed I canceled that card an hour ago. The guy over there was nice enough, pointing out to me that I didn’t have to yell because they didn’t let the sale go through. Boy was that a relief!
So I says to the guy, “Hey, is this the Best Buy where the Korvettes used to be?”
And he said “Yes,” and I said “The one in Caesars’s Bay,” and he said, “No, the one on Staten Island.”
I was nearly flawed! I forgot that there was a Korvettes there, too!
Folks, there is a moral to the story, of course, and this week’s lesson from the Screecher is to make sure you carry only the credit cards you need, and have a Zerox of every card you use just in case. And lastly, buy a powerful magnifying glass and read the small print on the back of those cards that says “If your wife is a shop-a-holic, start bankruptcy proceedings early and get some insurance quick!
And the worst part about it is she already has all knew cards! Just when I thought I was out!
Screech at you next week!
©2014 Community News Group
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