Me and My Manny Read Online Free PDF

laundry basket, and went over what the well-dressed mannys-to-be might wear. In thinking of a mannys’ wardrobe, something I’d already begun to purchase secondhand, I was struck by what a low-overhead operation manny-pushing would be. Mannys require no food, water, or medicine. They have no need for heat, light, you name it. And here’s where it really gets cool: their parts are interchangeable.
    A couple of hours later, as I left my bedroom to drink a glass of milk before turning in, I heard Lisa switch off the stereo. “Goodnight,” I called through the living room doorway.
    In the foyer, Lisa retrieved her tape dispenser and started out. “You say nothing about this, got it?”
    “Our lips are sealed, right, Wolfie?”
    As the front door snapped shut, I smiled at him sprawled in his recliner. About customer confidentiality, clients should be treated with the utmost discretion. There would be no little black books, no credit-card receipts, no videos of the action made on the sly. All procurements at The Manny Ranch would be done quietly on a low-key, cash basis only.

Welcoming Harry Home
     
    The day before Harry’s four-month-long tour was over, I had my hair frosted and cut in a style that, to my dismay, made me look like a wilted yellow chrysanthemum, one with freckles and an overbite. That done, resplendent I stood in a colorful Hawaiian muumuu and silvery flipflops, waving a small American flag and waiting most of the afternoon for Harry to gangplank off the destroyer at the Everett Naval Station. Though thrilled he was back home, I felt a sense of sorrow. Spouses often change when separated for long periods. As with other tours, I worried he might have cooled toward me.
    “Not in the least,” Harry assured me, when I related my concern. “You’re the one more likely to stray, always here alone.”
    “Thanks to the manny, you know that thing I told you about on the drive home?” We were now in the apartment, and I watched Harry nodding as he neared the manny on the recliner. “It always kept you close by.” I braced myself and mumbled, “Sort of.”
    His eyes on Wolf, Harry circled him with caution. “Is that a sex surrogate or something?” He glanced from Wolf to me.
    “He doesn’t have the hardware.”
    Harry again stared at his imitation. “You think I look like that? He looks like a cartoon. I don’t look like that.”
    “There’s nothing wrong with the way he looks.” Now that they were together, I saw how much Harry differed from the exaggerated caricature of him. His ears didn’t stick out nearly as far as Wolf’s.
    “He looks like a stiff the Italian navy forgot to consign to the deep.” Harry examined Wolf’s outdated uniform. “He must have gotten this at a military surplus store, the antique section.”
    “His costume may not be authentic,” I said, aware that nothing about the manny could be construed as copied. Mr. Gippo’s creations were supposed to be unique.
    For some time, Harry stood, stroking his neatly trimmed mustache. Then suddenly he yelped, “Six hundred bucks! I can’t believe you blew six hundred dollars on that…that dumbass dingus.”
    To my mind, the wooden dingus was worth every penny I’d blown. He was an investment, the returns of which ought to be manifold. Yet I empathized with Harry. Now that we both lived wholly on his military salary, a mere pittance by any stretch, squandering hundreds on an oversized doll was an extravagance.
    Harry flared his nostrils as he reached out and snapped Wolf’s beanie upward. “What’s his ship? The Pinta , the Nina , or the Santa Maria ?”
    Harry’s show of aggression troubled me. Despite worrying that any moment now he’d challenge the manikin to a fight, I tried to see Wolf through Harry’s eyes and concluded that only a mother could love that funny little face.
    Harry checked the manny’s uniform for patches. “I can’t figure his rank.” He yanked the braided red string from the manny’s pocket.