Livick Monty Solves a Mystery

Chapter 1

Thirty: that magical number, an age where most women are either scrubbing grass stains off little Jimmy’s soccer shorts or buying three cats in preparation for old maidhood. Thirty: the number of hotdogs one must eat to win the national hot dog eating contest. Thirty: the amount of tampons one can pack into a handheld black leather purse.

You may ask yourself what person in their right mind would try to pack thirty tampons into a black leather purse. I would. Not by choice mind you, but out of necessity, because of course, my parents were visiting, and heaven forbid my father use the bathroom and see ‘lady things’ on the counter, or anywhere else.

So, with ten minutes till they arrived, I was getting creative. The tampons went into the purse, the alcohol went under the sink, and the exercise DVDS were dug out, hastily dusted off, and propped next to the TV.

This was the way all children prepared for unexpected parental visits. Ok so a few were varied, a few were more honest, and a few used their exercise videos, but hey, we can’t all be saints.

Darling, do I smell smoke? These were the first words my mother uttered when I opened the door.

No mom, no smoke, hey dad. I hugged and kissed them both, wondering if the smoldering bag of microwave popcorn had set my plastic garbage lining on fire yet.  

I hope we aren’t an inconvenience to you. my mother was still sniffing the air But I just wouldn’t feel right if we left the city without at least saying hello.

This explained the hurried call I got when they exited the freeway ten minutes from my apartment. Their calls were always hurried when they were on the road, due to my father’s fear that their cell phone was slowly rotting their brains with radioactive waves.

Its no problem, it’s always so great to see you. This wasn’t a total lie, I loved my parents, I also loved that they lived in another state.

So, sit down, get comfy, can I get you some water or tea? This was me, being the perfect daughter, polite, sociable, and hospitable. I could practically see my mother’s chest puff out with pride.

Tea would be lovely, what about you Gregory, would you like tea? My mother patted my father’s knee to capture his attention.

Tea would be fine, he grunted, my father wasn’t one for long speeches. He was currently staring at my TV, wondering how long he should wait before asking if I got ESPN.

Darting into the kitchen, I reached for my emergency parental welcoming kit. It contained tea, which I don’t drink, on account of coffee being so much more stimulating, and a bottle of aspirin, which I occasionally had to slip my father. Most importantly, was the small bottle of peppermint schnapps, which could be passed for peppermint tea if push came to shove.

I prepared two cups of tea and then slipped some peppermint schnapps into a third teacup. Bringing them into the living room on a tea platter, I saw my mother's relieved look, her daughter wasn’t a savage, her daughter had teacups and a tea tray- there was hope yet.

Well dear, how have you been? mother sipped her tea gracefully. My father picked up the cup with a blissful ignorance of the importance of handles and started sipping with gusto.

I’ve been fine; the apartment is working out wonderfully. I conveniently forgot the mugging in the lobby two weeks prior, and the car alarms that routinely went off at 2 a.m. Hey, I don’t have an amazing memory, things slip out all the time, through the back door, and the side door, and occasionally they’ve been known to evacuate using the skylight.

And work? This was a tenderly put question; my mother wasn’t a huge fan of my chosen profession.

Considering that, at the moment, I wasn’t a huge fan of my profession either, I came up with a relatively good answer. Work is going well; I’ve been getting positive feedback from my superiors, and I think I may push for a raise.

My mother nodded demurely, Sounds wonderful dear. She allowed the required five-second pause for politeness, Have you been seeing anyone?

I’d known this was coming, it always came. In the beginning, it was subtle, but as I approached the big three-zero, my mother began to grow increasingly more panicked. As an only child, I knew I had the overwhelming responsibility of providing grandchildren. Only my parents had a criterion, the grandchildren had to come out of a successful marriage with a husband who didn’t work at Burger King.

I’ve been kind of resting, you know, stepping back and looking at my life. And boy had there been nothing to see.

My mother took this in stride, as she always did, and took another sip of her tea. I was similarly sipping my peppermint schnapps, and wondering how long my father would hold up.

You know Elsa May just had her second child, a boy, they named him after Cary’s father. My mother was nodding contently, Elsa May had done right by her parents, she had produced the required grandchildren, and she had dubbed the tyke after a grandparent, always a plus. I suddenly loathed Elsa May, how dare she be happily married with two adorable children, how dare she.

Well, you know, if things don’t work out here, then you could always come back to Minnesota, we kept your room just the way you like it. My mother was still hopeful.

I felt a sinking in my stomach and took a few more sips of my ‘tea’ to calm my nerves. I’ll keep that in mind Mom, but I am doing ok here.

I need to use the bathroom, my father heaved himself off the couch and wandered down the short hall to the bathroom. I momentarily panicked, then calmed as I remembered the lovely black leather purse hanging in the hall closet, thank God for the Wal-Mart discount bin.

So how was your visit to Aunt Millie? I sipped my tea as furiously as etiquette would allow, wondering if I could get by with another refill.

It was so heartbreaking, seeing her like that; I think it hit Gregory hard.

Aunt Millie was my father’s older sister; she was in a nursing home in the nicer part of the city. She was also the reason my parents had come to Burbank and sprung this little impromptu visit on their darling daughter.

Is there any new news? I was trying to appear sympathetic, but I had never met Aunt Millie, and thus, sympathy was hard to muster, maybe if I had more tea.......

The doctors say she won’t last the year, My mother dabbed her eyes. I cast mine to the carpet, looking mournful, it was March after all, and there was still quite a bit of the year left.

My mother was apparently buying my sympathetic murmurings; she finished her tea and set down her cup. Do you want some more tea Mom? I was a wonderful daughter, wasn’t I?

No dear, we should be going, we have to return the rental car before our flight. My mother sighed, You know, my friend Brenda lives just a few blocks over, you should visit her.

I waited for the zinger while murmuring agreement, I didn’t wait long. Her grandson Wilber was recently divorced, isn’t that terrible?

Nodding in agreement, I tried to come up with a decent-looking Wilber in my head, but I didn’t succeed. Its terrible things divorce, you should have dinner with Wilber, I’ll bet he needs a friend. My mother would never accept the fact that I had decided to become an old maid, she would try to hook me up until the day she died. Even then, I had a sneaking suspicion that her will would hold a marriage clause, and I would get nothing if I wasn’t married with more than one child.

I’ll see if I can clear my schedule, I tried to sound agreeable, I tried to sound like I might call Brenda and ask for Wilber's number.

My mother sighed as my father came back into the room, and then she stood Well dear we should be going, come visit soon alright?

I’ll come down for Easter, I promised. Easter was a sacred holiday, when the family gathered for religious-related reasons, and ended up avoiding each other for egg-related ones.

I kissed my parents, wished them a safe trip, and waved at them as they traveled down the hall. Then I closed my door softly and threw the padlock into place only when I was sure they were out of the building.

Flopping most unladylike on my couch, which had once been leather, I sunk into the cushions. A visit from my parents always brought out the little quirks in my otherwise ideal lifestyle. I began to rethink my job, which was of a laughable nature come to think of it, and of my personal dating habits, which were also laughable.

I looked around my reasonable-sized, one-bedroom, one-bathroom, small living room and kitchen apartment, and wondered how I had come to this. Unfortunately, I had the answer, at twenty-two I had the insatiable desire to move from my parent's comfortable two-story house in a pleasant neighborhood in Minnesota, to downtown L.A, and finally to downtown Burbank.

Since that fateful day, I had moved out of Burbank five times, and always, inevitably returned. I was an official Burbankian and no matter how I tried to change, I would never succeed. That was the scary truth about Burbank.

Chapter 2

Iwas at my laptop for ten minutes before realizing that trying to work on an empty stomach was a lost cause. I almost got up, but then my superior willpower kicked in; that and the image of me in size sixteen jeans, which was not a pretty image.

I concluded that the only way to slim down was to evoke some serious willpower, and bribe myself, which would probably be more successful. So I made a deal with the horribly little ice cream addict who lived near the right side of my brain, I would complete five cards before taking one, and only one, scoop of ice cream.

Currently, I am employed by one of the nation’s largest distributors of greeting cards. I don’t have the talent to design them, so I write the sappy sentiments that you laugh at every time you open a card. Enterprising business opportunity, don’t you agree?

My supervisor was less than cordial the last time we talked, so I rifled through my list of subjects and picked the easiest, love. Love was my specialty, I was credited with writing the best love cards in the company, and I had a plaque to prove it.

Halfway through my mushy, ‘how could I live without you’ spiel, I realized that finishing five cards was an unrealistic goal. For those of you who have never written greeting cards and are under the mistake impression that it is an easy profession, I would advise you to stop chortling, this was serious business.

Card two was a hopeful plea for passion in the future, and card three was a graceful reminder of passion in the past, all in all, I felt that I had put in a good day's work. The little ice cream addict started rearranging furniture, reminding me that I had at one time, promised her a scoop of ice cream.

Sitting at the small counter in my kitchen, generously called this due to the appliances that were packed into it,