David Emami sat in his big, cozy, green, antique easy chair with his feet on the ottoman. While his two cats, Fred and Barbra Streisand, licked themselves clean, David stared at his 59 year old feet and felt a little sickened. They were crooked, hairy, and scary looking. David was repulsed and knew that he had to do something about them or we would just have to wear socks for the rest of his life to save himself from seeing those offensive things again.
David pulled out his yellow pages (and he was quite possibly the one person in his entire apartment complex that hadn’t immediately recycled theirs the moment they were delivered the week prior). David found a spa that did pedicures, and though he was a little bashful, he made the appointment and was soon on his way to get his talons tidied up.
David sat down on the large chair and a Vietnamese woman quickly tended to him.
“Oh, we have much work to do!” she shouted. She then said something in Vietnamese to the other worker next to her and they both laughed hysterically.
“Are you talking about me in Chinese?” asked David.
“No. No Chinese! Vietnamese!”
“Oh, I’m terribly sorry!” he replied.
She began clipping, scraping, and massaging David’s calloused feet until they began to resemble something that belonged to a human and not a lizard. David laughed a little, but tried his best to hide the fact that he was childishly ticklish.
“Wow, this is lovely,” said David.
“You feet so bad!” said the woman, still working over an hour later. “Take too long! You pay more!”
David looked at the clock. He had been so relaxed that he hadn’t noticed how long it was taking. “I’m not paying you a cent more! You quoted me $25 and that’s all I’m paying!”
She threw his feet down forcefully and said, “You pay now! I do no more! Done! I done!”
David stood up, angry and confused. “Fine then!” He grabbed his money, still standing there in his bare feet. “Take your dirty money!” He handed it to her.
“Okay, $10 more and I finish!”
“We are finished here!” he said as he marched toward the door.
“You forgot you shoe!”
“Keep them!” he said angrily as he walked to his car barefoot. He had more pairs of boots at home and he wasn’t about to humiliate himself anymore by walking back in. That was the first and last time David Emami ever got a pedicure.
David Emami is Alone in Portland is a collection of stories that peer into the life of a middle-aged curmudgeon with a fondness for cats and antiques.
Playfully illustrated with Bitmoji characters, his story comes to life as each day brings a new adventure.
He was obsessive compulsive and mad about antiques. The apartment was covered, top to bottom, in decor that would be more aligned with that of an old woman that peaked in the 1960s. david-emami-takes-on-portland.html
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