Mona, Queen of San Fernando

I’m curious. Well, not of just one or anything in particular, but of things in general. I’m curious as to why jets fly. I mean I kinda understand, but really I don’t. I’m curious about yeast. How does it really work? And how did someone really discover or understand how live cultured yeast will make your bread fluffy and light?

I’m also curious about women. What are they and how do they work? I mean they just defy logic and any sane reasonable explanation. Oh, in case you’re wondering what specifically I’m referring to about lacking a reasonable explanation? Everything. Let’s start from there first.

I understand dogs, but not cats. I’m curious as to why you can’t take cats out for a walk. Do we really know for a fact that they don’t enjoy a good walk? I mean tigers, lions, leopards and cheetahs roam around. Why not the household cat? Why is it that we are so sure that the only animal in the world that enjoys a stroll is a dog? Well, I take it back. Humans also enjoy walks. They only difference is we don’t have to curb Humans. Well for the most part.

Which brings us up to a story of someone I know. Ok you probably figured there was a story here somewhere. Let’s call her Mona. Mona…the Queen of San Fernando.

I met Mona over a dozen years ago. I say “more than a dozen” as I’m not sure when you’ll be reading this. Anyway, that’s got nothing to do with the story. Mona had a problem with the bathroom. For some reason, she couldn’t bear herself to use one. No, it’s not what you’re thinking; she wasn’t raised in the wild. She had a problem with using a public restroom as she thought it was just a filthy, germ-infested shithole (no pun intended) for the most part. And in general she was right. So she would go out of her way to use a public restroom. There were exceptions. Institutions, which would logically have sanitary facilities—such as hotels, nice restaurants and others, which fit in this category, were exceptions. It was the gas stations, the fast food joints and others of questionable hygiene, which were out of the question.

There were times when we were meandering about town when she would announce that she would have to go home, as she needed to use the bathroom. Not a problem when you’re only a couple of miles from home. But 10 to 15 miles? Enroute to an outing? Fascinating.

So going back to the curbing humans. There has been a few times…ok, more than a “few” times as it’s in the double digit realm now…where I’ve had to pull over in a secluded street or alley so she could, well, consummate her need. You know, pee.

Out in the open. In the raw. Back to nature. Commando. Yep, pull down the panties and let ‘er rip, kind of situation. Why there was that one time where we were on an incline where the car was tipped towards the driver’s side and as Mona was launching her version of Niagara Falls, I slowly witnessed the gradual formation of tributaries gushing out from under my car out into the wild open avenue.

Now, I have to say that I have never experienced her need to go number two (you know the “big” need) in an alley. This I think would be very interesting and would open a new set of questions to whet my appetite of curiosity. One of which would be, just who would be responsible for curbing Mona?