We manage to move most of Bea’s and Grandma’s belongings into storage, except some nicknacks and furniture they insist upon to make my place less of a bachelor pad. They also request I remove the plastic fruit and stop using my kitchen nook as a giant mailbox.
“What’s this contraption?” Grandma asks as she and Bea survey my space.
“A foosball table. Wanna play?”
“I think it would look better in the garage,” Bea suggests.
“Oh, definitely,” Grandma agrees. “This space needs an antique chaise lounge with a side table and decorative lamp.”
“Fine. Can I at least keep the poker table?”
“Well,” Bea considers, “perhaps we could make use of that.”
The three of us catch Fox 5 News while sipping our morning stimulant. The special guest they have on this morning is none other than his dickiness, Chris.
Host: How are your renovations coming along?
Chris: We’re nearly finished with the first phase. As you know, I was the chief architect on the guestroom redesign back in January, and now that I own the building, I plan to return the site to the splendor it once was. The Grey Towers will once again be the crown jewel of San Diego.
Host: That’s exciting.
Chris: Indeed. We’re making the resort more family friendly as well. If I may, I’d like to invite your viewers to an open house and ribbon cutting event we’re hosting on Friday. Bring the kids, as we’ll have a bounce house and other fun activities for them. There will be tours of the redesigned suites and pool deck, and complimentary beverages.
A light bulb, while slightly dim in my advanced years, sparks to life in my mind.
“Ugh, he’s disgusting,” Bea reacts.
“Say, do either of you have any contacts at Fox?” I ask.
“I think Eric is good friends with one of their reporters, Matt,” Bea suggests.
“Perfect. See if Eric can put me in touch with him. I have an idea.”
“Let’s hear it,” Grandma insists.
“Let me hash it out a bit more, then I’ll run it by you both. Oh, I’ll also need a clown costume.”
“You’re scaring me,” Bea laughs.
Bea leaves for the office, and Grandma visits the farmer’s market while I write a few more blog entries and work on my plan of vengeance. I call my buddy, Jeff.
“Dude, do you still coach that Little League team?” I ask.
“Eleven and twelve.”
“Perfect. I’m going to rent a bus and take the team to the open house of the former Hyatt. I’ll try to get my new pal, Trevor Hoffman, to speak.”
“Sounds fun. When is it?”
“Friday at six. Let’s all meet at the La Costa Park and Ride at five.”
“I’ll start contacting the parents.”
“They’re all welcome too. The more, the merrier.”
That arrogant prick is going down.
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