Shareware Supreme Volume 6 #1/swsii.zip/swsii/201/RUBYV22.ZIP/RUBY22-1

Text File | 1993-05-30 | 7KB | 127 lines

Copyright 1993(c)

                       RUBY GOES HOLLYWOOD
                      A Ruby Begonia Column
                         By Del Freeman

     "Ruby, what the hell are you doing?" Del Freeman looked at the
pile of records and CDs scattered haphazardly around the living
room.
     "I'm lookin' for that French record -- you know that one where
they sing about 'how's about we shack up,' or somethin," said Ruby
without raising her head from her inspection of record and C.D.
labels. "That voolee-voo koo-shay avec twah thing, you know? Say,"
she suddenly raised her head and stared at Del, "that twah, that's
French for three, ain't it? Ne-ver mind," she trilled, dumping the
lapful she held atop the others and rising to leave. "Ruby don't
do no threesomes," she decreed. "No sir, I'm not gonna' be part of
no menagerie."
     "That's menage a trois, and come back here and clean this mess
up immediately," Del ordered.
     "Hey!" Ruby protested. "Ain't we goin' to Europe? I got to
pack, mama. I got no time for housework."
     "We are not going anywhere for a while." said Del. ("and with
any luck at all, YOU are never going anywhere again," she said
under her breath.
     Ruby, a virtual stranger to clean, began to half-heartedly
push the records into some semblance of stacks, chattering on
excitedly.
     "... can't you just see me in Europe? Why, I hope we DO go to
Sweden instead of France. All those puffed-up frogs acting so
nasty. I read about that stuff, you know."
     "Ruby, you do not read. I don't even know if you CAN read.
What I do know is that if it weren't for 60 Minutes you wouldn't
even know there is a Europe," Del said.
     "Well, anyway, much better to go where the people have an
appreciation of the finer things in life. Why, I hear in some of
those places they got virtual store windows filled with handsome
hunks. You just pick out the one you like, and you buy it for your
very own."
     "Ruby," said Del patiently, "that's slavery. Those are
business people whose 'services' are for sale for a period of time.
Besides, I don't know if they have male prostitutes in the first
place - at least not in the windows. IF, and I repeat if you are
going to travel with me, you're going to have to learn some
decorum."
     "Shoot, I can decor with the best of 'em," bragged Ruby. "Just
remember, it's me, not you, 's got a yacht named after her, honey.
Famous yacht, too. Everybody knows about it." Ruby preened.
     "Ah, Jesus, I could kill Zach Klein for trying to educate you.
Why, in the name of all that's holy, he would feel compelled to
tell you about the Rubyiat in the first place is beyond me. I can
only suppose he expected the knowledge would take you to the docks
where you'd pine away searching the skyline and waiting for your
ship to come in," Del said.
      "Huh?" said Ruby.
                               ***
     "Okay, lemme' see... I got my nose guard cream... I got my
flesh-colored string bikini... I got my map of the stars' homes...
I think I'm all set," Ruby announced, tapping her foot and waiting
expectantly for Del to be ready to leave.
     Del emerged dressed practically in slacks and a shirt to find
Ruby resplendent in chartreuse fishnet hose, a red satin mini-skirt
and black tank top and shod in white go-go boots.
     "Egad, where are my sunglasses," Del screeched, fumbling madly
in her purse. She plucked them from the rubble of her over-sized
bag and regarded Ruby. "Just where do you think you're going?" she
asked.
     "Why, witchou, of course," Ruby answered, popping her gum
happily.
     "And if you were going with me, where do you think we'd be
going?" Del asked.
     "To Hollywood, silly, don't you read your itinerary?" Ruby
asked in amazement. "Fabio!! Sly Stallone! I figure he's ready to
take the tumble again, you know? I sent him a pitcher, just like
what's her name did. Mrs. Sly Stallone," Ruby fantasized...
"swimming pools, movie stars... charge accounts!" she breathed.
     Del sighed.
     "Ruby, have you ever heard of Hollywood, Florida?" she asked.
     Ruby looked quizzically at Del. She began to smile, then to
giggle and finally to guffaw.  "Okay, okay," she squeaked out
between peels of laughter, "good joke. You had me goin' there for
a minute. Now hustle your buns and let's get to the airport."
     "No airport, Ruby. We are NOT leaving Florida. Hollywood is
just a short drive down the road. The company I'm doing a story on
has their production plant there."
     Ruby looked crestfallen. Her mouth opened and closed with
little sucking, popping noises but no words came out. She dropped
her bag with a thud and started with horrified eyes at Del.
     "What kind of funky job is this, anyway? I thought we were
gonna' travel... see the world... meet people. Man, we been
gypped," she judged. "Heck I knew it... I knew them psychics was
a bunch of hooey. 'I see great things in your future,' she tol' me.
I knew she was blowing smoke. I don't know why I let her go on and
on like that..." Ruby muttered.
     "Her? Who, her?" Del asked.
     "Ah, you know that bunch of mystics with that 900 phone number
- the ones that claim they can foretell the future?"
     "RUBY! Don't tell me you've been using the phone again."
     "Welllll, just a little bit. See, I wanted to know what kind
of wardrobe to pack, so I just made one teeny little call and then,
well, it sort of got away from me. I mean, that Sabina the psychic,
well, she got to talking about how she saw me making a cameo in a
Stallone picture and it cati-cornering me to fame and glory and
well..."
     "Catapulting." said Del, fumbling in her purse for the
economy-size bottle of Bufferin.
     "Huh?" said Ruby.
     "Catapulting," repeated Del. "That's catapulting you to fame,
you twit. And just how long did it take this Sabina creature to
relay this valuable information to you?"
     "Well, that's the thing, see... she kept getting these
relations and seeing more and more..."
     "Revelations," said Del tiredly.
     "... yeah, relations. I think maybe one of 'em was her uncle
from somethin' like two hunnert years ago or somethin. Anyway, they
told her and she told me about how I'm gonna' be a big star. Then
she told me to close my eyes and imagine bein' rich and famous.
Next thing I knew, I woke up this morning with the phone in my hand
and it was making a kind of funny, hummmey little noise."
     "RUBY!!" Del screamed. "That's #3.95 a minute and you fell
asleep?? We're gonna' have to get a second mortgage on the house
just to pay the phone bill."
     "Yeah," said Ruby despondently, "and we're not even goin' to
Rodeo Drive."
                               END