The Engagement Ring

"Crawling down the alley on your hands and knee. I’m sure you’re not protected, for it’s plain to see. The Diamond Dogs are poachers and they hide behind trees, hunt you to the ground they will, mannequins with kill appeal." David Bowie from "Diamond Dogs"

The nurse had what I would imagine to be a drug and alcohol fueled weekend that had culminated with her walking in wearing an engagement ring. I almost felt bad for the poor sap, but after listening to her talk to one of the Mongoloid orderlies, I realized that she isn't positive if her betrothed's name is Matt or Mark. Ah, love. So rare, so passionate, such a whore. When and if I ever do find a woman who stands against my lofty criteria to be Mrs. Asylum then I shall drop to one knee, produce a ring, and ask her by name if she will be my bride.

On my last weekend in LA I was without a vehicle. A fate worse than death as the Missing Persons were right, Nobody Walks In LA. The Ford Explorer that I had paid $1400 for was no longer a viable mode of transport seeing as the transmission decided to take some time off, the estimated fix cost, $2000. Not a smart deal. The problem was that Bob Knows Best was playing in the regional finals of the BODOG music search down in San Diego, German for Whales Vagina, and I wasn't about to miss the show. So, I rented a sensible set of wheels, a Dodge Charger. Damn car was awesome and fit me like Anna Nicole Smith. All soft and curves and just enough attitude. Anyway, the night before the trip down the shore I decided to head down to Huntington Beach from my crib in Pasadena, home of the Rose Parade, yeah. The drive would take me by the old neighborhood, so I figured why not stop in and say a quick farewell to my youth. I drove by the familiar haunts: Don's, Wayne's, the high school, and my Grandparents house. It was there that fate intervened.

When my Grandfather passed away a lot of family weirdness came to the surface. One aspect being that my waste of a life Uncle had run up about $197,000 of debt in my Grandfathers name. The shit sack never had a chance to deal with it as SuperMom came in and financially karate chopped him. He walked away, literally, with $10,000 and my Grandmothers engagement ring/wedding band. That fact always bothered SuperMom. As she figured that as the asshole walked away she had seen the last of the ring. Life as a funny way of fixing some of its wrongs. as I drove through the neighborhood I noticed the next door neighbor, Chris, was outside. I pulled my cherry rental to a stop and his jaw dropped upon seeing me. He was so glad that I popped by, he had something to give me.

While enjoying a beer he produced my Grandmothers ring. I was shocked. Turned out my useless Uncle had pawned it and Chris, whose wife Karen grew up next to my Grandparents, couldn't stand the thought of the ring sitting in some pawn shop. So they claimed it. However, they had no idea where to send it, so it sat on Karen's dresser. By sheer coincidence, that I took that sentimental journey, that he was outside at the moment I drove by, well it was fate, that's all I can say about it.

It was like I was Frodo as I didn't tell a single family member that I had the ring as I made my way to the Slow. Upon arriving at my sisters house, which functioned as my own Mount Doom, I told SuperMom the tale of my journey. Of course she cried when I handed her the wedding ring of her mother which she never thought she would see again. and now, I have the sole right to propose with it when and if. Fate, it seems, wants me to find a wife. Someday.

Has fate ever intervened in your life so brilliantly?

Dixie Cup of Love: Chris and Karen