Bingo Bags

Bingo Bags

Saturday night, a 1980s bingo hall.

The noxious cloud cover of cigarette smolder was already imminent when Tibs and Millie approached their usual Saturday night seats armed with bingo cards and over-sized over-the-shoulder purses teeming with colorful dabbers, ice cold Coke, and salty snacks. Gertie was already seated, cards organized in front of her, puffing Cameos, her sweaty can of Sprite in its right place.

“Early bird catches the worm, wha? Awful early, you shit the bed or something?” Tibs opened, plunking her wide arse down on the bright orange unstable chair.

Gertie’s lanky face coiled into an instant blush, “No, I ain’t shittin’ no beds. Cyril had darts and made a big friggin’ fuss about me always making him late, so he dropped me early to the bingo.”

Tibs chuckled, “In such a hurry you forgot to crack them curlers out, wha?”

Gertie touched her kerchiefed head in a panic, “Sufferin’ Moses, Andy!! Lucky my head is attached on this ol’ body or I mighta forgotten that too.”

Millie’s chair scraped loud on the grimy tiled floor scooting her chair in closer to the table with the might of her wide girth, “Why didn’t cha call me, coulda swung by and picked ya up. I had to get Tibs anyhow.”

Gertie waved her thin hand, “No matter, thought it best to come and save our seats since them there idiots tried to hork ‘em last week.” Gertie threw a thwarted nod to a motley crew several tables down.

Tibs scoffed, “Buncha turds. We’ve only been sittin’ here for wha, a million years!? Like to see ‘em try again.”

It’s as if the Head Turd heard Tibs’ jeer. She fixed her eyes on the trio and straightened her lean to move her faded orange mop and blotchy face toward them, “If it ain’t the Get Along Gang back for another week, hoardin’ the lucky seats.”

Not one for confrontation, Gertie’s face, looking smaller than it is with her head full of rollers, turned beet red. She looked away, taking a nervous drag off her menthol. Tibs, about to rise and meet the Head Turd’s antagonizing gaze was stopped by the gentle hand of Millie, who calmly regarded the intrusion, “Ain’t got nothing ta do with luck, you know that. It’s alll chance.”

Head Turd cleared her throat, “That so? Well, maybe one a’ ya might lend out that horseshoe ya got jammed up your collective arse. Give the rest of us a “chance” at winnin’ a god damn game once in a while.”

Millie offered a pregnant pause, “Ya … nah.”

            That sent Head Turd, agitated, shuffling back to her gaggle. Tibs let out a howl and high-fived Millie, “Hooligans ain’t takin’ no foolishness, wha! Ha!”

            Millie snorted, “That bunch there reminds me of them things the grandbabies like, Garbage Patch Kids. Spit right outta their mouth!”

Gertie shook her head and put her cigarette out in a clean ashtray, “Let’s play already, frig.”

Without a game having started, Tibs’ voice filled the smoke hall, “Bingo, wha!” her enthusiasm was met with a collective smatter of, “Shaddap.”

The trinity got busy at their specials, concentrating on the win. Gertie’s goal of the evening, as it was every Saturday night, was to fill her whole card and win the Bonanza. Tibs took it home the weekend before and the weekend before that, Millie won. So, Gertie was hoping the winning streak would continue with her tonight.

Tibs, aggressively dabbed her bingo books, dangerously close to winning a game by coloring in around the FREE asked, “We gettin’ donairs tonight if we win, wha?”

Millie confidently replied, “Ain’t if, Tibs. It’s when.”

Gertie turned up her nose, “Ain’t there anything else we can eat? Donairs give me some god-awful gas and I ain’t in no mood listen to all the goin’ on Cyril will do, especially after darts when he’s half frisky.”

Tibs cracked up, “Two of ya need separate bedrooms. Works out good for me ‘n’ Dickie. He snores like a sombitch and I need my beauty sleep. Plus, we gave up tryin’ ta knock boots. All we bang anymore is bellies.”

Gertie closed her eyes and shook her head, “Now ain’t that an appealin’ mental picture. Lord Christ, Tibs.”

Tibs shrugged with a hearty laugh, “Either that or D.I.V.O.R.C.E.”

“I like my single livin’,” Millie interjected, “I can pass gas all the live long day and ain’t no one gonna give me no guff.”

“Explains why that tabby cat of yours disappears for days on end. Can cats even hold their breath?”

The three friends laughed so hard half of their table missed the caller yell out, B5. Millie dabbed her book like a bat out of hell, “BINGO!” Shortly thereafter she was fanning herself with a fist full of twenty-dollar bills, “Gonna be an exxxxtra-large donair night tonight, ladies!” Tibs did her signature silly-arms-pumping happy chair dance while Gertie rolled her eyes internally knowing full well, she’d indulge despite her husband’s inevitable scorn. And, what the hell, she still had her rollers in. Cyril won’t have anything to do with those suckers wound tight on top of her pretty head.

During a break between games, the friends started to reminisce. Head Turd and her posse assaulted the canteen for the last of the greasy burgers, the trio stayed seated like they always did, for fear someone might steal their seats right out from under them, not that they were territorial or anything. Millie ripped open a bag of Ketchup chips and began, “I miss when Gertie’s Nan still came to the bingo with us. Eighty-four years old, sneakin’ nips of gin in her Sprite cans, remember that?”

Tibs, with a hunk of Oh Henry in her mouth said, “Oh, I miss me some Nanny Mona, she was a friggin’ hoot, wha. Little bugger was always walkin’ off with my pink dabbers, only ones she could see good.”

Gertie nodded, “Wasn’t so funny though when she finally lost all her hearin’ and yelled Bingo on the Bonanza and never had one god damn number that was called, remember that!?”

Millie’s eyes went wide, “How could ya forget that!? Lil ‘ol bitty near started a riot in the bingo hall! She was some sweet though.”

Tibs banged her meaty paw on the wobbly table in a fit of remembrance almost knocking the open Cokes over, “Remember that feller, stayed with the what’s-their-nuggets up the road there by the store!? Went and streaked bare arse naked right up through the bingo hall, in a Jesus snowstorm no less! From the front door right on down the back!”

Millie all but keeled over wiping tears from her eyes, wheezing, “Oh my gentle Jesus yes! Drunk as a god damn skunk he was. Ain’t ever gonna forget that pasty white flat-as-a-pancake arse.”

Gertie, characteristically, shook her head full of wonky curlers, “Didn’t have a whole bunch goin’ on in the front either.”

Tibs and Millie said in unison, “Bush whacker!”

The three friends laughed so hard the caller sternly requested, in the microphone, they simmer down. This, to be clear, was not an isolated incident. It was, however, enough to settle their kettles enough to focus on the task at hand, winning bingo.

It was a tense night of bingo. Millie won a few cards, Tibs won a few and now it was Gertie’s turn. Gertie and Head Turd were set for the Bonanza. Gertie, waiting on N46, Head Turd holding out for O75. Millie, completely out of character started to pray, the more the sweat gathered on Gertie’s top lip, the harder she implored to the good Lord Jesus for her friend to cash in even though she knew it unholy to muse on a sort of gamble.

The caller announced, “O74 …” 

Head Turd cursed, “Come awwwwwwn!”

The caller called out the next number, “B10 …” Head Turd growled, Gertie’s nervous frame started to rock back and forth.

The caller called out the next number, “N … 46 …”

Millie and Tibs called it at the same time, “BINGO!”

Head Turd wailed, “God dammit!”

Gertie, wide eyed, looked at her friends, “Cheese and crackers, did I just go and win the friggin’ Bonanza!?”

Tibs gave her friend a fat slap on her lean back, “Donairs gonna be on you now, wha?!”

Gertie laughed, “Heck sure, but we ain’t eatin’ them at my place! Rather Cyril didn’t know I got any extra in my pocket.”

Millie piped up, “Come on girls, let’s get us some food and scarf ‘er down at my place.”

Gertie nodded, “Done deal.”

Crowded around Millie’s single woman’s small kitchen table, the friends inhaled their meaty nibbles – thick slices of spiced beef on warm pita bread, topped with generous chunks of onion and tomato, then drizzled with the Donair’s signature sweet garlicy sauce which inevitably ended up dripping from their fingers and faces.

Tibs broke the snack silence, “Ain’t even sure what I love more, Donairs or eatin’ them with y’all.”

Millie concurred, “Don’t even taste the same if I ain’t eatin’ them with you guys.”

Gertie sipped a fresh Sprite, “All that stuff is true for sure, I just love winnin’ a wad of money. I ain’t gotta job like you two. Cyril only gives me enough enough allowance for the bingo.”

Tibs scoffed, wiping her chin with a napkin, “Well frig you too then, wha!”

Gertie rolled her eyes, “Don’t go twistin’ the words comin’ outta my mouth, Tibs. I’m just sayin’, all of it, goin’ to the Bingo, winnin’, havin’ donairs like this here, well, it’s what I most look forward to. ‘Cause, Millie ‘n’ you, well, you’re my best friends. I ain’t ever had friends like y’all before I moved here. I appreciate yas.”

Millie smiled, reached and gave Gertie’s shoulder a warm friendly rub in agreement. Tibs hung her head, “Well shit.”

Gertie replied, “It’s all good, Tibs. I know you ain’t got a lotta time for feelins and all. I ain’t never learned now to not be so damn sensitive.”

Tibs looked up at her friend, “Oh, ain’t that. I just dropped a pound a’ the sauce down in my titties. Pass me that there napkin will ya.”

***

I’ve been plucking away at this snapshot for what feels like eons. It isn’t meant to be long, more like, (as with everything these days), a writing exercise. Just to keep my imagination and my fingers moving. No pretensions here. A few chuckles maybe, but all in fun.

If you took a second to read, thank you. I hope you had fun.

In propinquity,

Nic