The first little crisis popped up at one of Didi's parties. I was sitting on the windowsill next to the drinks table, talking desultorily with Didi about finding a new apartment. Yesterday the irrepressibly chatty lady next door had cornered me in the elevator and asked me how I stayed so young-looking, which is always a sign that it's time to move on.
The front door slammed, and Didi cocked an ear.
I sat up a little and peered over the crowd.
"Travis and some Goth chick." The fluffy shirt and embroidered waistcoat were unmistakable, the spiky black coif next to him less so. He'd been doing Interview With the Vampire for the last twenty years; even I could tell it was out of date. "Travis" didn't really go with the image, but you don't get much choice of name unless you are willing to drop some serious money, which he didn't have.
Didi made a moue. "Travis needs a new shtick." Style being his first and foremost consideration, as usual.
I shrugged and took Didi's glasses off his face. He was doing The Italian Job--the original, Michael Caine--but they were his real glasses. He was a bat without them, but they transformed Travis into Austin Powers and Austin Powers fit Travis and the Goth chick like a glove.
"Now what am I supposed to do?" Didi whined.
"Do Alfie." I had to shout over the music. "Michael Caine was in that, too. Same suit." Didi shrugged.
The doorbell rang. Didi squinted across the room and said, "All right! Charlene's doing Policewoman again!" He made his way to her, banging off the furniture like a bagatelle, and greeted her with a friendly pair of mitts to the mammaries. Except it wasn't Policewoman, it was policewoman. Here about the noise. And Charlene was behind us, exiting the kitchen with the rabbit, doing Fatal Attraction. Didi's party ended early.
Opening: A. Minion.....Continuation: Anonymous