All the celebrities seem to love my 2010 Matrix. They say it’s my company they want, but I’m pretty sure it’s got to do with the car’s non-sleek lines, seldom washed interior, and limited leg room. Anyway, yesterday I had Sofia Vergara with me.
“How’d you get to Nova Scotia?” I ask.
“Oooooh! My producer…he took me for dah ride in dah tookatookatookatookatookatooka…”
“A helicopter?” I ask.
“Ci!” she says.
” Next thing I know, I am in a big field all by myself.”
Seems like a sketchy story, but I go with it. “Why’d you sleep in my car overnight? You could have knocked on the door,” I say.
She shakes her head, “No no no…I would never want to be a bother to anybody. But, I see you no lock your car so I sleep.”
Sure, I think. Whatever.
“And now I suppose you want me to bring you to work?” All the celebrities want to watch me sit at my desk all day making calls and pushing paper around. Why should she be any different?
“I want to go shopping!” she says. I think about the one rundown mall in town and laugh under my breath. It contains three different types of dollar store, a tattoo shop, a mediocre food court, and a few common retailers selling slightly damaged clothing.
Before I can answer, she’s distracted by a cat on the side of the road.
“Ohhhhh look at the pretty thing! Look look look!” she shouted and points to the side of the road.
“It’s a cat, Sofia. Just a house cat.”
“Ohhhhhhh but it’s so pretty! Can we stop to say hello?”
“Oh no, we can’t,” I lie. “That type of house cat carries disease and if you get close to it you’ll get sick.”
Sofia’s eyes grow as big as saucers. Also, what’s with all that cleave on a Thursday morning? It’s not even 8 a.m. for heaven sakes!
“Is this true? I will get sick?”
I nod my head solemnly. “Yes. It’s called….felineal leprosy. You could loose your hand, or your foot. I saw a person lose both kneecaps. Now he just bounces around from the ankles.”
Sofia went pale and uncharacteristically quiet. Gotta say I was surprised she didn’t ask any follow up questions. I mean, who couldn’t poke holes all through that one?
“Take me to the mall!” she says excitedly. “I want to buy more comfortable shoes!”
“Oh?” I ask, surprised. “What kind of shoe do you want?”
“Something with only a three inch heel maybe.”
Again, I chuckle under my breath. The best she’ll find is a Croc store. But I say nothing.
“Isn’t someone in Hollywood looking for you? Don’t you have a coffee commercial to do? Instagram pictures to post?”
“I will Instagram from the mall!” she says.
“Good idea!” I say. “There’s a funny clown that hangs out around the entrance. You should take a picture with him!” What I don’t tell her is that the “funny clown” is actually a homeless guy.
“Fun!” she shouts. I know the minute she sees the mall, she’s going to tell me she’s changed her mind so I get her to close her eyes.
“Why do you want me to close my eyes?”
“I want you to be surprised when you see how beautiful the mall is!” I say. She keeps her eyes pinned shut as I pull up to the front entrance. I make her get out of the car by keeping her gaze to her feet. When she’s out of the car, I shout “Okay, you can look now,” and high-tail it out of there.
When I look back in the mirror, I see her scolding the homeless man about something. Then I see he’s holding a cat.
The dangerous kind.