- This is an excerpt from a story of a man who dealt constantly with two different perspectives on life.
- If you don't feel like reading a lot, then just skip the first paragraph, which is the description of The Banker, and go straight to the dialogue.
- I haven't proofread this as much as I would like, cuz my head hurts.
- Backstory: Salisbury Jim goes to the bank in order to secure a loan.
- Uh, enjoy!
The Banker is an older but acceptably attractive lady. She is someone of intense integrity and self control. For example, she never wears skirts or dresses while on the job, because such garb is pointless in this environment, if not less than pointless; counterproductive even. She’s caught the boys while they cock their heads toward the ascending women on the first floor stairs and feign finding an imaginary clock, in a desperately covert attempt to sneak a peek, a self-given break from work. These scenes she’s seen more times in a day than there are hours on that clock, hours for which those carefree boys get paid. Over the years, similar observations of the male species have caused her to much prefer the reliability of numbers over the reliability men. However, she’s never met a man as reliable as Salisbury Jim or as carefree as Red Al.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Jim”, The Banker greets Salisbury as she extends her hand and prepares herself mentally for a painful squeeze, the zeitgeist of a manly handshake.
“Likewise, ma’am. This is my cohort, Red Al.” Salisbury, to The Banker’s relief, gently extends his fingers along hers and effectively grasps her palm with his right hand, while pointing to Red with his left. Again, to The Banker, this was not a weak grasp but definitely gentlemanly. Definitely effective.
She smiles at Salisbury before giving her attention to the other gentleman. “Nice to meet you, Red Al, was it?”
Red Al, wide eyed with shock, eyebrows tilted in surprise, looks to Salisbury before shouting, “Meet her!? Why, I hardly know the girl! And you expect me to meet her? Hahaha!” Finally, it’s Red Al’s turn to speak.
Salisbury demands in an impatient and grumpy tone, “Just shake her hand, Red.”
“Fine, Sal.” Red turns to The Banker. “I’ll see your hand and raise it!” He then bends over The Banker’s well organized, expensive mahogany desk and clasps both her hands in his, which he then pulls up to his chest. Looking sincerely into her eyes, he says “Miss, I have hardly heard your name before, save for whispers in the hallways of my high school. Long since have I always felt a deep desire, deeper than the depths of unexplored ocean floors, to gaze deeply upon your face, at the person whose name describes a woman of the deepest beauty and grace. So hear now that here now in this place, this fortress of commerce, this fiscal domicile, this superstructure of treasure, this pigpen of pennies, this abode of gold, this monetary residency, this capital of capital-!“
Salisbury, upon checking the time on his watch and mentally double-checking its correspondence to today’s schedule, interrupts, “Red Al, please, I’ve allotted myself only so much time for this silliness.”
Red Al smiles and finishes immediately, “It’s nice to meet you.”
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