Bier de Stone ( wrote,
Bier de Stone

Mosquito season

The other day, I reveived one of those emails from a reunion site. It was my ex-girlfriend from middle school.

We exchanged phone numbers and I called her midway back home from a pizza place after meeting a friend from work there. Sitting on my bike chatting and catching up on things, a mosquito landed on my arm. It wasnt there, on my arm, fir more than five seconds when i shewed it away. Next day, i have a bump on my arm. Oh, how it itches. To scratch it, it feels leathery, as if the bump is a callous.

It's a reminder of standing outside a baseball diamond park called Tommy Lasorda from 6:15 to about 8:00. I am not certain what the time was when my phone warned me of its low battery life, but it was already dark; hence, all the mosquitos out and about.

So, the very first girl I ever kissed called me. She is apparently divorced now, with one daughter. She described to me how she still had my phone number stuck in memory, and when she called, she was told she had the wrong number.

That was my mom who answered the phone.

One thing that's always puzzled me, and I asked her, was the name of a boy from school who one day picked a fight with me over a girl. I had my ideas about what caused the fight, but so much time had passed, i thought i would ask to see whether she had any recollections.

My ex-gf has had quite a life. Married into a family that had experienced disaster. The short news article on it is titled Restaurateur dies in alleged murder and suicide plan from the LA Times newspaper dating back to Oct 5, 1985*

The hotlink may not function to take you to the PDF file without signing into the database. I used my local library's database for access.


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