Nancy

   ,Ernie had had a Jones for this girl for a long time. He was in the womb humming Nancy with the smiling face. In kindergarten he dressed up as Zorro for Halloween because he knew she liked boys with masks, dressed in black. Freshman year in high school he went to his biology class because she was in it. He played hooky in every other class. He threw spitballs at her, passed her silly little notes like they were from that oily guy he knew she had a crush on. Ernie was a regular Cyrano De Bergerac. He waited eagerly for snow, so he could show up at her house with a shovel and ask her Mom if he could please clear the drive way for free. Every year he bought ten boxes of Girl Scout cookies from her little sister and was left without lunch money for two months.

   He learned how to moon walk like Michael Jackson, though he was even whiter than Michael and had less rhythm than Dick Chaney. He got a job a job working with retarded kids because she was a special education teacher. When she moved to the western suburbs he purchased a motorcycle so he could visit her. He was terrified of motorcycles and rode down the shoulder of the freeway to visit her. He purchased outfits of clothing for her, after making pilgrimages to Ralph Lauren’s studio in Paris to ensure his taste was adequate. He quit doing all drugs, even aspirin, he went to churches of every faith on the planet so he could accurately quote the scripture of her chosen faith. He actually read Moby Dick and War and Peace while all his friends were watching Bears games, Cubs games, and Bulls games.

   He spent three summers de-teaseling corn in the blazing sun of Illinois to show her he understood the plight of the small farmer. He said he hated Pee-wee Herman and Tiny Tim, even though he worshipped both guys and in fact studied ukulele with Tiny right up to the day he got married on the Carson show. He trudged through the deserts with Lawrence Of Arabia even though he hated sand and camels. His butt never fit right between the humps. He became an astronaut because some days she exhibited a penchant for being spacey.                                                                                                                            He bought a computer, learned how to type, twitter, tweet. He went on face book, searched through the archives of every library in America, became a historian, followed  the followers of the rapture, Genghis Kahn, Rush Limbaugh and even converted to Judiaism in case she might have. He grew 5 inches, lost two hundred pounds, took up meditation and gave up cheeseburgers. He almost gave up smoking but thought Nancy wouldn’t even believe that. His wife disowned him, his children ignored him, his cat even scorned him and no longer waited on the couch for a couple of blasts of reefer before bird hunting. But he persisted until even his own privates ignored him.

    After 35 years of an enquiring mind he found her. He called her on th phone and stammered and panted and lied his ass off. A LIFETIME DREAM WAS HAPPENING. Nancy wanted to his picture. He said he had one of him playing guitar at Wrigley Field. She said well scan it and post it on Facebook. Ernie didn’t have a scanner, so he spent the money he’d saved for a suit he to wear to his son’s wedding, and bought one. He searched for the picture until he finally found it in an old box of Christmas cards. He made his daughter get up at 2 a.m. to post the picture on Facebook. He posted a picture of a more recent photo too.  That night Nancy left a message for him. Before reading it, he did 50 sit-ups and 50 push-ups as to be in better shape, even though she couldn’t possibly view the results of his efforts. He rolled a joint , lit a cig and opened his email. Her message was only three words: LIKE THE BEARD! Ernie was staggered. Hit by a left from Ali. In the picture from Wrigley Field he didn’t have a beard.