Yes, apparently that’s one fine fellow’s nickname for Oakmont.
And while, it maybe so, that Oakmont has it’s jackass side, his biting bitterness was a little odd to me.
At my favorite writing spot, I really do write, I don’t do a lot of chit chatting. Anyway, this guy hopped into a conversation I was having with the woman who works there and took that in as his chance to ask me what I was doing.
“What’re you doing over there with that computer?”
“Writing.”
“Writing Whaaaaaat?”
“A novel.”
At this he looks down his nose at me and saunters over as though approaching a bandit in the old West. “Issssss it about JOKEMONT?”
“No. It’s not.” Chuckle, chuckle.  Trying to be very polite.
“Well it could be. I could tell you stories, boy I could tell you.”
“Okay, tell me.”
“Ohhhhhh, noooooo.  I can’t tell you.”
chuckle chuckle. I smile showing him that I am fine with him hoarding the Jokemont stories like chocolate in the depression.
He stands beside me, trying to read my monitor.
“That’s right. Power. Money is power.”
“Information is power, too,” I said.
“But not like money. NO sireee.”
Wendy tells him his coffee is ready and he saunters back to the counter.
“Boy, I’d curl your toes.”
Wendy says. “Why don’t you write a book?”
He braces himself in one of those wide based male stances where his legs are just this side of forcing him into a split.ÂÂ
“I could. But I’m not gonna do it. No sirreeee. I like to keep my secrets close. In my pocket.”
Yeah, okay. “Don’t tease me like this, baby.” I wanted to say. Or “get the hell out with that crap. You know nothing. Now leave me to my imaginery world, why don’t you?”
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I really don’t want to know what else this man keeps in his pocket.
Is this the drunk 50 year old caddie from “Jokemont” that lives near the coffee shop in a house HIS MOM LEFT HIM WHEN SHE DIED? If its the same guy, he also says that he is a secret millionaire. I think the money is in his pocket, too.
Becky, I agree. He seems to think whatever it is, is pretty fantastic and that prob. means it’s something better kept under wraps.
Mimi, Secret Millionaire? Wouldn’t I love to hold that title. It’s not who you’re thinking because this guy lives up the hill…I’m a secret non-millionaire. I bet you didn’t know that…
You’re much more patient than I am. I tell people I’m working on my taxes.
Hi Kathie!
Oh, Mignon, that’s hilarious. I would imagine you working on your taxes would only inspire this character to read over your shoulder and mutter even louder “power, money is power. Power and money.”
Your story about this man is so funny, Kathie. Yes, you definitely can observe human nature at its finest when you write in public places. Makes you wonder what stories he has in those pockets, huh?
Kristine,
He could barely contain those stories, but as Wendy the woman who works there said, “I bet someone, somewhere has some stories on him!” then of course the next woman in line offered one up. I’ll do Jokemont part duex and fill you in soon!
It’s times like that when I wish I had a camera in my eye, so that I could take photos as I blink.
Hey Alison, I know what you mean, some people should be recorded for others’ enjoyment!