Will Work for Food

      I thought I was pretty good at suggesting that friends of Art Garroway should help him. But you know, not one person called or emailed me to say that he or she had a lead for Art.  If this was one of the big radio stations who beg every year for money, you would not be listening to the station  any longer. You know what I mean?  Now I can't promise that for X dollars, you will get anything.  Well maybe you would get something for a nice donation to the Art Garroway Publishing Fund.  I think I could personally promise you that your car would not be broken into for at least three months.  Or if you are really good, I could make sure that your girl friend's necklace does not end up on your wife's  night stand.  You think about my offers for a little while.
     Right about now the radio station would be saying that for the next thirty minutes, someone is going to be matching your bids.  Well, this is not the radio and between Art and myself, we have just enough money to buy a cup of java at the local 7-11.  No one is going to match your measly donation.  You should be ashamed of yourself.  You spend more money on  your two girlfriends who we both know are working their way through college by earning tuition money.   If you needed help, Art would be there for you. Remember the time your washing machine blew a gasket and Art was there, moping up the water while you watched the Super Bowl? Or the time that your friends showed up from out of town and Art let them sleep in his bed in his house and his dogs did not once complain.  The dogs did say something about actually getting a good nights sleep and wondered why Art was not snoring.
     I won't make you feel anymore like a cheapskate than you are.  I'll just go into a little story I like to tell when I need people to understand me. Art says there is too much of me to understand.  I don't really understand that statement but what do I know?  I'm just a real person who is watching out for Art Garroway.  We all have to look out for each other, don't we?
     Hey, it looks like Art has left the room, so I can be honest with you.  I do have a couple of little complaints and I would hope you would  mention them to him in a pleasant, non-threatening way. The next time you see Art, would you mention to him that a certain someone would like to just once, have a quiet dinner without being called out for some task.  I can't tell you the number of perfect starts I have had with a certain young lady who I think is now looking elsewhere for male companionship.  She takes my aerobics class and I can honestly say I don't think there is one ounce of fat on her body.  But having been a cop or thinking that I was a cop and or is it  all just a silly dream, I would like to investigate further.  You and I both know what kind of investigation I want to do, so don't look at me with that look!
     I have been at the starting gate so many times, that if I was a race horse, I would have been put out to pasture.  Does this make sense? Each time I have picked her up in one of my many flashy cars and taken her to a favorite place for a quiet dinner.  Yes, I do have cars. A lot of them.  And they all get great gas mileage.  Believe that and I will tell you another story. Actually, Art says that since I don't have a social life, I can have cars. Guess that's a good  balance.  So anyways, me and my date sit at the same booth with the same wine colored spot on the cheap table cloth and we talk.  Actually I seem to do all the talking.  I don't know why but I think it has something to do with Art.  I have tried to stop talking and listen but this mouth just keeps moving.  I do want to know what goes on in her pretty little head but I can't seem to stop jabbering. 
     The same waiter arrives and asks if we would like to order and we order the same thing again.  Actually she orders for us since I am still talking about something.  I still don't know what I am talking about but she is having this conversation with the waiter who has a small place in the South of France and lives with his mother. And his mother works all day in the wine fields so her son can afford the big flashy car that his mother would never even think of sitting in and who was that girl that her mother saw him with and is she interested in having children?   The waiter leaves and returns with the most expensive bottle of wine that Art says I can have.  The waiter twists off the cap and pours my date some wine and he smiles at me as he pours himself a glass as well. My date and the waiter continue to chat while I am talking.  I really do try to stop but you know it just does not work.  And I sit there talking about something stupid while I watch my date and the waiter move closer together.  Our waiter leans over and whispers something in my date's ear and she laughs.  Did she just stick out her tongue at me?
     The waiter gives her a little peck on the cheek, sips from my wine glass and leaves.  My date looks a bit flustered as she tries to straighten her blouse.  How come the waiter can get some and I can't?  The waiter returns with the same thing we ordered last time and the lettuce is just a limp and brown as it was the last time.  The meata balls are like hockey pucks and the sauce is ice cold.  As I try to get the attention of the waiter who lives at home with his mother who works the fields, my date says she will be right back. 
     And as I watch her walk to the ladies room, she turns and goes into the kitchen where I know the waiter is waiting for her and just as I get up to investigate, Art calls to say he has a little story. And I leave the salad with the warm, brown leaves and the tomatoes which were fresh at one time, and the salad dressing which should not be bubbling but it is and answer the call of Art.
     Just once I would like to have a quiet dinner with my date.  I would like to have dessert and even take my date back to her apartment for a night cap.  And I would like to do all this without any frigging interupptions from Art. 
     Am I asking too much?  Look at me. I'm wasting away because I have not had anything to eat for a really long time. Would you please ask Art to let me eat just one meal.  Someone on death row gets a last meal.  I have yet to get one meal.
     Please help get Art published.  When he is published and on the road, I just might be able to get one meal. And I might be able to see if my girl friend has a certain tattoo on a certain part of her body.

Caught in the Headlights

     My name is Rex Rheinhart.  I have no memory of my childhood other than what Art Garroway has told me. To be honest with you, I think Art might just have made me up. I know what it is to lose one's memory, I do it all the time.  I'll be talking with someone and I start to say something about my past and then I think I freeze like a deer caught in the headlights because I don't remember anything about what happened ten years ago.
     Around ten years ago Art told me that he and his wife were having a discussion about a book she had read.  And she said something about the book and Art said  I can write better than that.  So Art began to write and suddenly I appeared.  Art told me that his dog said it was okay to use his name on a human character so that's what Art did.  I don't think Art even knows where my last name came from.  But suddenly I was alive. I'm alive!
     You know I must sound pretty nuts, talking to you like I am real but I am.  Art thought of me and here I am in the flesh.  Well not exactly in the flesh because we have to keep the censors from axing me.  I'm only in the flesh when I take a shower, see the doctor for my yearly checkup or sleep in the nude.  Yes, I sleep in the nude in the summer.
      Right about now, Art's wife will be denying that Art sleeps in the nude.  She will say that what goes on in Art's head is his own making and nothing that he writes is real in real life.  She has made that clear and I even had to sign a statement not to make anything up about Art.  She said something about "He who maketh can taketh away just as easily." I might look dumb but I do understand what she says.
     Now that you understand who I am, I want to ask for your help.  No, this is not a commercial  but a request for a friend.  Art needs your help in getting published again.  He is one of a kind author and personally I think he is pretty good.  I mean, he made me into the character I am.
     I am asking for help for him because he needs it. He wants to share with the world his humor if you can call it that. I only laugh because I have to.  No, not really.   Just kidding, Art.
    Art has so many stories floating around in his head, that sometimes I feel claustrophobic. I have asked him to try to focus on one story at a time  but does he listen? He says he has this need to write and gets pleasure out of writing. I'm glad he gets some pleasure from life.  Life can be such a pain. I get pleasure out of teaching aerobics to some of the finest looking women in the world. I'll tell you about those classes another time.
     All I'm asking is that if you like what I am about to tell you, then tell your friends. And maybe one of those friends is a literary agent who wants to introduce Art Garroway to the literary world. I know it would make Art very happy if he got on the New York Best Sellers list. I would be happy as well because Art would keep my character  alive.
     By the way, if you don't like what you read then keep it to yourself. If I find out that you have said anything to upset Art, I will personally delete you from the Rex Rheinhart Christmas card list. Then I will hunt you down.  I have friends in lots of places and they owe me big.  You know those parking tickets you have been trying to keep hidden from your boss, I know where they are  and I know who your boss is.