Skull of Zeus
Some thoughts, feelings, ideas, observations, and speculations about my second favorite subject in the world: Left Hook!
WHO IS LEFT HOOK? AND WHERE DID SHE COME FROM?
From the first moment you meet Left Hook, you know that there is something different about her. Something so, so, so special.
What is she? you ask yourself.
Is she one of those street urchins who secretly has royal blood running through her veins?
A swan raised in a pigeon’s nest?
An alien sent from outer space to save humanity?
That’s the thing: you can’t really imagine that Left Hook is an ordinary human being with, like, parents.
But she’s got them! A mother who nurtured young Lefty by feeding her teacupfuls of warm blood! (No joke!) A father who is a brilliant scientist!
The blood made her strong, obviously. But her father’s legacy is unclear.
I was excited to meet him in Brazil. Perhaps that would yield some answers, thought I!
So yeah, Lefty’s father inspired a generation of scientists (or at least that’s what a dude who ALMOST WON THE NOBEL PRIZE told me when we were in Brazil). Lefty’s father is also totally bizarre.
Left Hook lies on the couch in the hotel room, sick with a cold and shivering in her hoody.
Father Hook: Oh la la! You are magnificent, Lef-Lef!
Left Hook: Huh?
FH: You are so beautiful now! You are just like a gnome! [hard g.]
LH: A gnome?
FH: Oh! You don’t pronounce the g in English! Just like a beautiful gnome, I mean. [silent g.]
LH: Thanks a lot.
FH: What’s wrong?
LH: I have a bad cold and you are telling me I look like a beautiful gnome. IT MAKES NO SENSE.
FH: But you are so beautiful now! You color is better now! Maybe you have a fever and it gives your face some color?
LH: …
And another thing: he looks like a homeless person. It’s the combination of disheveled layers, mussed-up hair, and an aura of bewilderment.
Lefty’s sister Burlap Sack and her boyfriend Frenchie Rich took us all out to one of the fanciest restaurants in Sao Paulo. [“Burlap Sack” is a misnomer ever since Lefty’s sis fell in love and bought new jeans, but whatevs. Old habits die hard.] We sat at a marble table beneath the boughs of the enormous ficus tree around which the restaurant is built. Pretty incredible. There was a whole fleet of twinkly, dapper waiters in black and white, bringing caipirinhas to businessmen. Guess they got expense accounts in Brazil too!
Those businessmen were riveted by Lefty. I don’t know what that is, their eyes said, but I like it! Except in Portuguese, and a thousand times dirtier.
We ordered whiskies, and the waiter brought us the bottle and inclined it towards us, as if it were wine. Ha.
Father Hook was mad about the rolls. The bread man had five varieties, and Father Hook chose two. Then Frenchie Rich chose a different type, and it piqued Father Hook’s interest. Frenchie sent the bread man back over to dispense one of those too. Father Hook descended into a deep contemplative state: lips pursed, eyes opaque, chewing.
Left Hook: Are you having fun?
Father Hook: What? [Father Hook’s hearing isn’t so great, but according to Lefty, he never really listened even when he could hear.]
LH: ARE YOU HAVING FUN?
FH: I’m sorry Lef-Lef but I didn’t-
LH: ARE.
FH: Are?
LH: YOU.
FH: You?
LH: HAVING.
FH: Happy? Yes!
LH: No, I said HAVING.
FH: Having?
LH: FUN.
FH: Pain? [i.e. French for bread–ed.] Am I having pain? Yes!
Pistol Whip: Hahahahahaha.
LH: FUN! FUN! FUN!
FH: Ah! Fun!
LH: …
FH [still chewing]: …
LH: …
FH: Yes.
LH [aside to Pistol Whip]: Who is that man exactly?
The mind boggles.
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