Daisy Duck
I have much patience with a lot of people but now I think I’m gonna whack this person. Her name is Daisy Duck. Well, not really but Lisa and I call her that way, because last winter she often wore an orange pantihose on her very thin chicken-legs. Her favorite café is the Promenade. And she is crazy.
Daisy is about 40 to 45 years old, has long black hair, turning a little grey. She is slim and tall, usually wears a mini-skirt, matching scarf, also matching sweater – usually without a bra *sigh* – and the general knowledge about how often you should clean yourself passed her by with only little effect. And she likes to talk to herself. A lot! She’s harmless, of course, but sometimes it creeps a bit having her around. Like today when I really needed a little time to concentrate on my work.
I entered the Promenade about two hours ago, Julia, the head-waitress waved, also Marie another waitress who knows exactly about my favorite beverages replied a friendly “Hi!” when she saw me. The only unoccupied table was table #1, just next to Daisy’s table – great. I ordered a latte and continued reading my book and taking notes – manually on a big notepad. And there she went: “Yadda, yadda, yadda, ain’t it nice? What do you think? Gobble, gobble, gobble…” I kept ignoring her, talked a little to Lisa on the phone. Suddenly she burst out laughing – another time – and half of the café turns their heads into my direction. Lisa suggested that I should wear a sign around my neck reading “I am normal!” – interesting idea for a shirt, by the way.
Just as I finally could concentrate on what I was doing she came close and looked at the lines I had written. I don’t think she could read a single word, I wrote in English and in my crafty Sleepy Hollow inspired handwriting. “Hello?” I said shyly. She ignored me, sat on her seat and mumbled something about her vacation. And again, just as I could concentrate on my book again she stood up and walked over to me. I hoped that when I kept ignoring her she would loose interest and scram. But with some nonsense on her lips she stroked my hair, “Hello!” I replied again, this time a little more irritated. But she was listening to the voices in her head and left for another piece of cake.
Every time she stood up to fetch another newspaper or another piece of cake I counted it. Until now she stood up 43 times. But now I was sitting close to her I could understand what she was talking a little better. Interestingly she uses the polite form to talk back to her invisible other. It’s like listening to someone who is talking on the phone: She pauses from time to time as if she was listening, laughs out loud when she heard a joke, gets angry sometimes, “Leave me alone, dammit!” she shouts then, and stomps her foot. When she gets over a certain volume level everyone in the café looks at her, but Daisy doesn’t notice. She seldom does, anyway.
But the real annoyance is her restlessness. She hops up, walks around, mumbles, grabs a newspaper, sits down again. After half a minute she jumps up, walks mumbling around, orders something directly at the bar and sits down again. All the time – it makes you nuts! And then she likes to stay far beyond the closing hours, like Lisa and I do, too. Sometimes I wonder if she stays until the next morning when the Promenade opens its friendly doors at 9am.
48 times… it will never end! Let’s hope her voices won’t tell her to eliminate all people in the café.
Shorty before Marie wanted me to pay, Daisy Duck payed, wanted another single cigarette and mumbled something to Marie. When Marie then came over to me she looked suspicious into Daisy’s direction and whispered “Obviously, it is said that the prime minister of Spain shit his pants!” and winked. “Veeery interesting” I smiled back while Daisy stood up another time to stroll around.
Comments
No comments yet! Please feel free to add one!