“Oh dos fawking Yankees,” she said and pushed through my front door and into my kitchen, handing me a meat pie, a warm bottle of Pyramid ale and a swift punch in the face. Zelda Marcos is many things, bank robber, republican operative, season five Spanish language Idol runner up and low priced prostitute and sometime meat pie delivery person. She was all those things and a woman who likes gloves.
Zelda liked to say that you can judge a woman by the gloves she wears. That and how much hatred she can muster for the Yankees, which for Zelda was a lot. This I knew for a fact because a few weeks ago when the Yankees beat the Orioles Zelda stopped by and when I opened the door she kicked me in the balls and said, “what you think about that you fawking Yankee lovin’ son of bitch.” Then she left a really good turkey pot pie that the kids and I had for dinner.
I am a small business owner, the type President Obama seems obsessed with putting out of business and the type Mitt Romney would just as soon buy, bankrupt and sell off to China, so I am one of those. But as a small business owner, one of the things I pride myself on is customer service. See, the thing that makes me different from, say, WalMart is that when you call me, I answer the phone. When you call WalMart, someone in Bangalore answers and they hate you.
When you call Zelda Marcos House of Meat Pie Delivery Service a lot of the time you get a message that says this: “hello, this is Zelda.” That’s it. Nothing about what it is, why you might want to leave a message, nothing.
Then, if you are like me, you might leave information, like your address and that you would like to schedule some meat pie deliveries, something like that, what you get next is something you might not expect. You might even leave your phone number. If you are like me, you would then expect to get some sort of confirmation phone call, but if you were me, a phone call would never come. Instead, you would begin to have infrequent meat pie deliveries and sometimes a beating, ass kicking or just a beligerant rant from an angry Zelda Marcos who may or may not be drunk, high or both. She hates the New York Yankees, as do most people in America, but she hates the Yankees with a passion most people reserve for hating, well, the New York Yankees.
My greatest fear at this point is the dreaded possibility that the Yankees win the World Series, I can only imagine what Zelda would do if that happens. That said, the way they play and choke, I think, for this year at least, I am safe with just a severe beating, nothing more serious. Then again, her pulled pork meat pie was delicious after last years surprise playoff win against the Brewers.
For that, I kind of hope the Yankees at least make it to the second round. October for me means two things, a good ass kicking from Zelda Marcos and some damn fine Meat Pies.