"Are you guys talking about masturbation?"
Lisa and I glanced at Ken. His eyes were dancing in their sockets.
"Sorta," I smirked. "We were talking about that Seinfeld episode where Jerry, George, Elaine, and Kramer have a contest about…"
"The master of your domain episode!" Ken scooted his chair closer. "I loved that episode!"
"This guy is driving me nuts. He seems to be interested, yet he's not doing anything. What the hell is up with him??"
I shrugged and stared at my beer. "Maybe he's just a passive guy. They need a little more time to warm up."
She shook her head. "Well, I can't wait forever."
"I look forward to growing old."
"Are you insane?" Lisa gasped. She regarded me like a little puppy that just ate his own poop.
"You want to hear a really nasty story?" asked Christina. We all leaned in close. She noted our silence and continued.
"One day, this young teenage girl comes into the hospital. She's a peasant from a village outside the city. I could tell she grew up on a farm because she had a dark tan and tattered clothes. She was maybe only fourteen or fifteen years old.
"Do you have to be unhappy to create great art?"
I thought for a moment. "I wouldn't think so. Why should being happy or unhappy matter if you're a great artist?"
"Okay," Jimmy continued. "Name someone who's been happy and created a great piece of art. Music, writing, painting, whatever."
"What's up with this fascination for Japanese girls in maid outfits?" Kim asked.
Masako laughed. "In the maid cafes, the girls will treat you like a king. The Japanese businessmen love them. When you go inside, the girls will say, 'Welcome home, Master' in Japanese, then dote on you the entire time you're there."
"Do they do, um, anything else?" I wondered.
"NO Mike. Get your mind out of the gutter."
"Is it strange having her live with you guys?"
Ray shook his head. "We have a small guest room. Much bigger than what other families give to their domestic helpers."
I scratched my chin. "A friend told me that sometimes all they're given is a plank on a washing machine to sleep on."
It caught Jimmy's eye immediately. "Hey, let's stop in this shop."
"Sure," I answered.
The sign out front read "Antique Music Instruments" in a bold Art Nouveau typeface. I was surprised to see it in English. Most of the other Prague shop signs were in Czech, naturally. We walked in.
She wouldn't stop apologizing. "I am so sorry for this noise. I talked to the workmen in the building to please not begin their work until after 8:00 AM." Her English, touched by a Hungarian accent, was flawless. Still, she had apologized for her English as well.
"Hey look, there's a Mozart symphony playing tomorrow."
Jimmy followed my gaze over to the poster. "Mozart symphony, huh? That would be cool. That's a very Vienna thing to do."
I nodded. "It's not too far away from our hostel either."
Weekly random rambles, musings & writings of Mike Lee in San Francisco, CA