It is OK to act Poorly for a Good Cause
Particularly if it gets a few laughs.
The yearly “Benefit for The City Animal Shelter” is always held in the same space, an old industrial hanger once used to build airplanes. One can imagine Howard Hughes strolling through the cavernous space, examining WWI planes. A table with silent auction items and hors d’oeuvres line the wall to the left of the entrance. On the right, bleachers for 750 people are set up in front of a stage with stacks of kennels on both sides. Waiters in cat outfits strut around with platters of food, such as sliders and pocketbook oil in the form of champagne. Margo sees Rachel in front of the silent auction tables introducing Candy and her husband Tony to more people than the poor two could possibly remember. Seeing Beth by the food table, Margo tracks her down, to compliment her work, and to warn her about Rob’s interest in obtaining her number.
“Very nice job, Beth. Things look perfect. A real carnivore’s feast, which somehow does not feel appropriate here and with you involved,” says Margo pointing to the pigs in the blanket, the platters of roast beef, charcuterie board and beef sliders.
“Sorry, I didn’t have that much control over the menu. “
“Great. Can I have some Chihuahua Burgers?”
“Margo! That is not funny. Your hormones are giving you a mean streak.”
“That is funny! You have no sense of humor.” Margo wonders if all charities volunteers are so righteous.
“Your hormones have clogged your filter. That is not at all funny, not at all”.
“OK, let’s get a third opinion,” Margo offers, thinking it might answer the righteous person question as well as let her know if she is being an ass. “Who do you think is the funniest person here?”
“That would be Jim Dole. He’s helping with catering and he is right over there.”
Margo grabs Beth’s arm and marches her directly to Jim at a table against a back wall. He does look the part of the class clown, wearing an Abe Lincoln top hat and beard along with his apron. Margo wonders what on earth Abe has to do with the theme, same as she wonders what on earth he had to do with the sleep aid commercial where he hangs out with a beaver. Maybe he has a pet beaver under the table?
“Hi Jim. Margo.” Margo quickly extended her hand and Jim gives it a hardy shake along with a Cheshire grin. “Beth tells me that you are the guy to help me out. I am pregnant and I am dying for some Chihuahua burgers. Probably the need for high quality protein. “
Obviously game, Jim offers, “You have to be here very, very early for the Chihuahua burgers! They disappear faster than an ice cream cone at a fat farm. While many people are annoyed by the little fuckers, most find them delicious. How about some Pickled Poodle tongue?? Taste delicious and shuts those winey little bastards right up.”
Beth, realizing she made a big mistake with this introduction, says huffily, “You are both sick losers, you should not be allowed around animals and you should be excluded from moral society.” With that, she storms off, while Jim and Margo try to stifle their snickers.
“Righteous fucking vegans. She is probably going to find a quiet corner to let out some of that flatulence. Then maybe she’ll feel better,” Jim says.
“Nice meeting you Jim. You have restored my faith in charities and I thank you for your service. I think we’ll be great friends. I better go rescue my husband from that nice looking man. I hope finding out he’s my husband doesn’t ruin that distinguished gentleman’s night.” Margo gives the faintest of a gay hand wave and pivots to head towards Jeff.
As Margo walks over, she evaluates the fine threads (Italian, not doubt) and fine taste of the gentleman and then realizes she’s seen that face recently. Then it hits her: just in time brain processing, she says to herself. Her last pregnancy hadn’t messed with her speedy recall the way this one had. Yet another reason why pregnancy is not for those over 40!
“Hi, I’m Margo, Jeff’s pregnant wife. I just picked up a flyer somewhere the other day with what I believe is your picture on it. Dr. Hudini, right?” Margo holds out her hand for a shake and forces herself to look into his eyes and not try to catch if he is wearing a fancy watch.
Dr. Hudini took an obvious glance at her name tag. “Yes. And you’re the veterinarian I’ve heard about, but nobody warned me that you are gorgeous.”
“I guess that depends on how well you like knocked up women over 40.”
“As a genetic counselor, I like them just fine. Love them, as a matter of fact,” he answers with a big grin and an unapologetic top to bottom evaluation of her.
Elegant looking, Margo thinks, but with that scanning of her body, most likely not gay. Then again, people take liberties with pregnant women. In another 4 months, total strangers will escalate from giving her long glances to touching her belly, as if pregnant protuberances are public property. The first time that happened to Margo during her first pregnancy, she was rather shocked. After that, she responded by grabbing back at their midsections – always with a little bit of a snide comment along the lines of “It’s like having a hot potato right there. Really keeps you warm.”
“I’m a bit past genetic counselling. That is unless you can fix genetic issues with the asshole gene or the cheap gene – because they do run in Jeff’s family.”
“Margo, I am not sure I can help with all of that, but there is much that we can do with gene repair within the womb these days, so you should come see me – and soon. Here is a detailed flier. Look it over and call my office and I’ll make time for you this weekend, even. “
Margo respectfully looks at the flyer and put it in her pocketbook where it could possibly be salvaged at the end of the night.
“Are you related to the great escape artist?” Jeff asks.
“No, he was Hungarian – what you might call a gypsy – and spelled his name HOUDINI. I am Indian and spell my name without the o. But we do have much in common: I tend to get myself into jams, although by mistake, and then expend much effort extricating myself. Perhaps we are soul brothers. “
“I just started working with some Indians. You seem very Americanized, maybe you could translate for me sometime – and keep me out of trouble.”
“I’ve spent many years here in the states, since graduate school, so I know slang pretty well, but I don’t know that I would be much help with your engineering lingo. Now, if you need genetic engineering, I am your man. I know it can be hard to get constructive criticism out of the Indians. For that, I suggest you put a speaker in their home bathrooms”.
“Sure, maybe we should video tape the bathroom, too, so we can learn from their body language.”
The three of them were laughing with their whole bodies, “You know I am kidding, Jeff. They are so well trained from birth that they wouldn’t even discuss it amongst themselves or to themselves. Not like here in the States where that approach might actually work.”
Rachel walks over to introduce herself with a plate of hors d’oeuvres in one hand, a glass of wine in the other. “Hello, I’m Rachel Lavin. I’d shake your hand, but I can’t even figure out how to eat and drink at the same time!”
“Glad to meet you, Rachel. I just might have a fix for that! I’m Raj Hudini.”
“I’m not wearing one of these stupid glass bras worn around my neck!” Rachel reaches into the gift bag (white with black paw prints, of course) gifted to everyone at the door and pulls out what looks like a neoprene bra cup with a slit in the middle on a lanyard. Adding insult to injury, it’s festooned on one side with dog ears on the top and dangling paws on the bottom.
Margo lets out a chuckle, “Beth told me about this, I thought she said it was decorated with frog parts.”
“Well, that would have made ALL the difference,” responds Rachel. She lets out a humph of air and then stares back at Dr. Hudini.
“Oh, not to worry, it is nothing like that,” he responds, gesturing to her necklace.
“Great, while you’re at it, figure out how I can pick pockets at the same time. Which reminds me, I need to very publically start that right now. We shall talk later!” With that, Rachel heads to the stage at the front of the expansive room.
Once on stage, Rachel strikes her gavel, resonating and echoing loud enough to drown out all speech. This is followed by Rachel’s booming voice bellowing, “The silent auction is now closed.” Then another strike of the gavel.
“You all quit your jockeying for those baseball tickets and get your butts in these chairs. The paramedics are standing by to assist those with broken limbs.” Another gavel strike.
“How about a round of applause for all of our volunteers?”
The whole crowd applauds and yells “Woo Hoo as they take their seats. Jeff and Margo sit near the top of the bleachers, leaving Dr. Houdini near the door where he saunters over to greet the newly arrived Allison. Out of her scrubs, she looks surprisingly gorgeous, attired in a pair of tight jeans, a low cut tee shirt, eye makeup and lipstick. Catching Dr. Houdini’s move, Margo thinks, no, he certainly isn’t gay. And, he likes them a bit on the wild side. Deriving more than a bit of vicarious thrill, Margo watches Allison’s flirting technique. After procuring a glass of wine and a few tasty bites from the last call of the roaming kitty cats, Allison puts her treats on Dr. Hudini’s plate, freeing her one arm. Then, with her free hand, she hooks the arm of her food butler and leads him to some seats. This is a side of Allison Margo doesn’t normally witness. Clever slut. Allison makes eye contract with the way too observant Margo and mouths, “I’m a very freaky girl.” And Margo mouths back, “The kind you don’t bring home to mamma.” Then to Jeff she says, “Poor Raj doesn’t stand a chance.”
“A few minutes ago you thought he was gay, now you think he’s wimpy? I think he can handle himself.”
As the crowd settles, Rachel starts the program. “We at the City Animal Shelter are very grateful to all of you who make this possible. Over the last year, we found good homes for 350 dogs and over 400 cats. And, I am pleased to say that with all of your generous support we have managed to maintain our no kill policy for another year. Here is their story from our last year:”
Above Rachel’s head, the large video comes to life, showing the shelter, the animals in a group setting and then their cages. The denizens of the shelter include pure breed dogs and cats, mutts and mixes, and animals missing various body parts, a leg, an ear, an eye…. Obviously, being born as a pure bred doesn’t guarantee a happy life. The scenes change from the shelter to some of the success stories from the year. One of the vignettes is about a three legged cat that Margo had saved and then the shelter found a loving home for him where the video shows him acting like a normal cat – jumping on window ledges, walking along a ledge, playing with toys.
Looking around the room, Jeff spies Beth sending her death ray daggers to Margo. “You do something to tick-off Beth? I swear she is throwing daggers this way. “
“Oh, I made a tasteless joke about eating her precious Chihuahuas. “
“Sounds like diet food to me, there is hardly anything there. Might as well eat duck. “
“I know! Funny, right? She says I am getting mean, but she has no sense of humor.”
“She is too nice, Gogo,” says Jeff. “Don’t worry. I’ll make it up to her.” Margo responds by giving him a grimace relaying her “don’t even think about it” message.
The video wraps up and Rachel glides back to her spot behind the podium.
“Next is my favorite part of the evening, the live auction. Let’s give a round of applause to all the local businesses for their generous donations. All I had to do was go from shop to shop with a small dog from the kennel and point out that his future depended on their gifts. So a special round of applause for my little accomplice Blondie.” A picture of Rachel and a white, 4 lb, miniature Maltese in front of Raymond’s Pizza Oven displays on the screen.
After the applause and howls die down, one of the svelte young ladies in a cat outfit delivers the first item to the auction table.
Christmas Carolers from "Ceramics for All"
“The first item up for grabs is this classic ceramic Christmas caroler scene donated by “Ceramics for All.”” Rachel holds up the individual items one at a time: three bears, dressed in gem colored winter outfits; the classic green ceramic tree with the wholes filled with colorful plastic pins illuminated from inside; and an electric, old fashioned gas lamp post.
As Rachel puts down the last piece, she asks the crowd, “What is my opening offer?”
The crowd remains silent for an uncomfortable amount of time. Then a voice from a middle aged man in the back calls out, “I’ll pay you $100 to smash it right now”.
Most of the crowd cheers, with a few dissenting jeers.
Another man on the other side of the room yells, “Do it for mankind!”
From the middle of the bleachers, Candy’s husband Tony yells “I’ll donate $250 if my lovely wife smashes it.” Then he turned to her and starts prying her off her chair.
Never one to miss an opportunity, Rachel asks “How many people will pay $100 to see these precious items smashed”?
Rachel counts twenty five hands raised with thumbs down while a loud chant of “off with their heads” starts reverberating around the room, growing ever louder.
“And how many people will pay $100 to save them? “
Only Beth’s hand goes up. She looks around from side to side, searching for someone to support her, but the crowd has already turned into a mob.
“Sorry Beth,” Rachel announces. “The patricians and peasants, must be appeased. Candy, welcome to our colosseum. Now come on up and feed the carolers to the lions.”
Candy, with a little push from her husband, stumbles down the bleachers and up the stairs to the stage, picks up the Daddy Bear and with, pained, squinting eyes talks to it. “I am so sorry. I didn’t know we’d moved to Rome. But, while in Rome….” And with that, she smashes the caroling bear onto the floor. The crowd roars its approval.
“Sorry Mommy bear, but we thank you for your contribution,” Candy says to the purple and brown clad caroler right before smashing it on top of Daddy Bear. The crowd continued to roar and Beth thinks next year they should shorten the happy hour. Perhaps serve weak drinks.
“Oh, do I have to execute the child?” Candy asks the crowd. To which the crowd replies, “Yes, off with his head!” And, Candy holds the baby bear over the edge for a ten count seconds while the crowd gets impossibly louder. Then she quickly releases the caroler, sending it to the floor. Margo doubles over in her chair for laughter; and also so can she can check that she has not peed her pants. That would be a good look in front of most of my good customers, she thinks. Too early for the broken water excuse, too. She double- vows that this will be her last pregnancy.
The last two items are much easier for Candy to smash, since neither the tree nor the street lamp resembled living creatures. Upon completion, Candy steps down amid the thundering approval of the minions.
“Thank you all for that. We raised over $2500 for the shelter right there. Great start to the auction and a great step for mankind,” Rachel said. And, pointing to Candy, “Let’s give ourselves and Candy a hand. Candy, welcome to our community. I can tell you are going to fit right in.”
For the next 20 minutes, various gym memberships, discarded jewelry, trips and gift certificates are auctioned off. Then, Rachel gives the signal to the group behind the curtains and six ladies dressed in various cat outfits slither onto the stage, each pushing a cage with either a dog or a cat inside. The cages are lined up across the stage and each cat lady stays with her cage, looking like a scene from The Price is Right.
“Now, on to the most popular part of the night, the pet auction.” Rachel signals the cat lady on the far edge of the stage to pull the cage up a bit.
A cat lady complies and prances a full 360 around the cage. Returning to the front, she opens the door and pulls out the poor, freaked-out, shaking dog.
In her best boxing match announcer voice, Rachel says “In the right corner, weighing in at 6 lbs. 8 oz. is Corri – a 2-year-old flyweight from Northern California. “
Returning to her normal voice, she continues, “Corri is a miniature Greyhound who was badly burned and lost her family. She has recently been released from Dr. Rice’s care. The team at the clinic say she is very sweet and very social, but she might do better in a home without fire pits. Do I hear $200 for Corri? 200 in the back.” Rachel points at the man seated in the back of the room who started the smashing chants.
“Do I hear $250? Anyone $250? 250 to the lady with the pink cat hat on the right. Do I hear $300? Isn’t anyone interested in a fast Italian for $300?
“Queue the 3 legged cat video!” exclaims some unknown person from the back of the room.
“OK, I see $300 from Ed Tillman. Do I see $350. 350 anyone? OK, Mr. Tillman, since it is for charity, we’ll let you up your own bid to $350. Do I hear $400? $400? OK, Mr. Tillman, I see you are upping your bid again. How much do you want to pay?”
Ed Tillman responds from the back of the room, “I have $500 in my budget.”
“Alrighty then, Ed. Come get your miniature Ferrari for $500.” And Rachel hits her gavel.
“Speaking of 3 legged cats, let’s bring up Darwin next. Dr. Rice’s staff found her outside their building and they said it looked like her leg had been caught in a bear trap. So, she is very resourceful – found her way right to the best vet in town. She is about 8 months old and was neutered when her leg was removed. Do I hear $100 for Darwin?”
“$250” comes from the rear causing everyone to turn and see that it came from Dr. Hudini.
Before Rachel can even do her job, Jeff shouts “$350”.
Margo turns to Jeff and backs away a bit. “Are you crazy! We can’t have another pet right now! We are failing children!” says Margo loud enough for half the room to hear.
“$400” ups Dr. Hudini.
“$500” Jeff asserts and then quietly turns and says to Margo, “It will be good for Budweiser. It will give him some companionship while all of us fuss over Tinker Bell. Besides, a 3 legged cat should be easier for Bud to handle.”
“Can I do my job, Dudes?” injects Rachel. “Going once, going twice, going three times. Done. Darwin goes to the Rice / Klinger family in a split decision,” says Rachel back in her best boxing announcer’s voice.
After four more pets were raucously auctioned off, Rachel declares an end to the night and directs everyone to tables in the back to pay for their prizes.
Margo heads over to find Beth by the exit door and sees that Dr. Hudini is no longer standing with Allison. He’s entertaining Candy and her husband.
“So, am I back in your good graces?” Margo asked Beth.
“Jeff is. I guess you have to be, too. Otherwise, I would get pretty lonely around here. I thought I’d found a kindred spirit in Candy, but it took y’all about 30 minutes to corrupt the poor girl. Those pregnancy hormones must be airborne. I’ll try to stay up-wind from you – and I think I’ll avoid pregnancy altogether.”
“Beth, you might be the only one of us fit to be a mother.”
“Oh, and Rob asked me for my number outside the park the other night. I politely declined, and don’t you dare give it to him. But you know he wouldn’t be bad looking if he cleaned himself up a bit.”
Margo gives Beth the Loser “L” signal with her hand. “I heard he was tracking you – and I was going to warn you earlier, but all the prancing pussies and meat delicacies distracted me. I’m afraid all the class genes went to Jeff and all the ass genes went to Rob. Gina certainly plays favorites, but, I’m sure not about the chicken and the egg there. Maybe Rob has a complex because Mom always liked Jeff best.”
Rachel untangles herself from her duties, she joins her friends and whispers to Margo, “See, I told you Jeff would get a little pussy tonight. How did he get that shiner? “
Margo audibly winces.
“Oh my god!” exclaims Rachel, losing her whisper. “I heard a rumor about that in the gym this morning and I thought it was hilarious, but fictitious. Miss Collins – right?” Margo lifts her shoulders, winces and nods her head slightly. “Tell Jeff not to worry, I heard she looks worse. But perhaps the two of you should get out of town for a bit. I could sneak you out in some empty doggy crates right now.”