Crazy Babs

Crazy Babs
a short short story by Diana Weeks

Poor Babs was so nervous about her first day at the Oil Company in downtown Houston, the capitol of the oil business. She sat up in bed recalling the lies she's told about her work experience.

Barbara stretched, glad she had gone to the library straight from the interview, and done some research.

Downstairs in her two story condo she made coffee and noticed a dubie her marijuana smoking friend had left... after their "Babs got a job" celebration Friday night. She lit it with a kitchen match and puffed it so short she almost burned her fingers.

She drove one house past the day care center for her three-year-old boy. Her "try to make her marriage work" baby. It didn't, but she got the condo.

When she finally threaded through the tangled traffic to the tall building she circled it twice before she found the underground parking entrance. It was already eight.

Breathing deeply like she learned in yoga she rolled up and down car aisles and found a parking place near an exit door and ran up the stairs.

The receptionist looked at her watch "Barbara, glad you're here. Mr. Gordon needs this file ASAP...his office is across from your desk in the executive suite. The phone rang and she waved Babs away.

She looked around for a friendly face. What did ASAP mean. What kind of oil company lingo was that? The three secretaries were already at their desk's typing fast... like they were in a race to ring bells. What luck she thought seeing a door sign "Jessie Gordon" and knocked.

"Come in" his half shout made her stand straighter in her five-eight slinder frame and thrust out her recently added 38 inch boobs. She didn't lean over when she placed the ASAP file on his desk.

"Very good, thank you" he muttered looking away to answer his phone before she could flash him her dimpled smile.

Somehow she got through the day, thanks to her friend in PR, who had helped her get the job, and took her to lunch. Babs typed "well reports" so Mr. Gordon could tell which wells were pumping how much...and drilling reports to tell how deep the crew had gotten the pipe.

At five she eagerly gathered her purse and the company "policy" booklet and hurried to the underground parking...not at all realizing she was not entering the same way she left this morning, a thousand years ago.

Not wanting to appear panicked, she strolled up and down the rows of cars, wishing she had put a Jack-in-the-box clown head on her short VW radio antennae...crossing her fingers she could get to the day care before late fees kicked in.

Her feet... in the latest style four-inch heels...were begging to be taken off. Just for a few minutes one at a time. When the security golf cart passed her for the third time the man stopped and waved her over. "You lost your car?" he smirked.

"No" she answered putting her shoe back on. Babs lied with assurance. “Get in I'll find it for you". She got in beside him. "You do know the MYLP"? She didn't know what that meant so she smiled wide to deepen her dimples and replied "Of course". The driver got a pad and pen and poised to write. "What's the make, year and license number"? She took the pad from him.

"You just start driving, I'll write it all down for you". She gave him more dimples and suddenly there it was...her car... hunched down like a shy turtle. "That's it, stop"! Babs laughed and jumped out. "You're so kind. I'll be your friend forever". Babs managed to back out without hitting him although she wanted to... because he stayed and watched like he didn't think she could drive. Departing she sighed and told herself. "This is going to be funny someday, maybe even by Friday".

THE END
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED