HOW THIS DOLL MEETS THIS GUY: A TALE IN RUNYONESE
(Damon Runyon’s stories are known for their distinctive vernacular that, among other things, confines itself to the present tense -- the present progressive tense, to be specific.)

It is along about two years ago on a cold Sunday morning and I am feeling down in the dumps. In fact, I am lower than the odds I will enjoy a camping trip, which are very low indeed. I am feeling like a complete washout in love and romance and such. Perhaps I am remembering a piece in the Newsweek where some professors from Harvard and Yale state that once a doll hits 30 she has a 1 in 5 chance of ankling down the aisle with a guy. Furthermore, these professors state that a doll over 40 has a 2.6 % chance of getting married, which is really no chance whatsoever. Newsweek says that an old doll of 40 has a better chance of getting herself killed by a terrorist than getting herself married to a husband. It occurs to me that I am a doll over 40 and I am thinking I should sleep in a bulletproof vest or maybe make with the wimple.

I decide to talk to the universe and I say to the universe like this, I say, “It would be a wonderful thing if you can see your way clear to sending a guy my way.” Now I have never seen the universe but I have it on good authority that there is a universe and that it is big. In fact, it is vast. So I am thinking if the universe cannot come through on this score no one can. Then I remember where I read once where Jesus says, “If you want it to rain, dig ditches.” By this Jesus means a person should demonstrate or manifest his or her faith. So I decide to manifest and demonstrate my good faith that a guy will indeed come along. I decide to go to this fancy lingerie store downtown and furthermore I am going to buy some fancy lingerie there.

I walk to the R train on West 57th. As it is January it is a very cold day and I am thinking I am somewhat nuts to be going to this lingerie store, especially as this lingerie store does not open for several hours. I get on the subway, and I am thinking of this and that and how cold I am, and how nuts I am, when I see this guy. This guy is standing holding on to a pole such as they have in subway cars and I am wondering why he is standing when there are many seats in which to relax as this is what most subway riders do. In fact, subway riders like to relax on these seats so much that they often relax on two or three seats at a time. Then I see that this guy is reading a big book and the title of this big book is none other than “History of Philosophy Volume 9.” I am impressed more than somewhat because citizens do not often read big books on the subway even if they can read, and if they do read big books they do not read big books on philosophy. And if they do read a big book on philosophy chances are it is not a volume 9 but a volume 1 and they quit reading after page 3.

But this guy who is reading volume 9 looks to be such a guy as who reads volumes 1 through 8 too. He has a nice face with a nice expression and I am hoping he will stop reading and maybe turn to me and say “My, my, my, it certainly is cold out,” or some such thing as guys say when they talk to a doll they do not know. But this does not happen and I am forced to open up my own kisser, which is a dangerous proposition indeed. I say to the guy like this, I say, “Excuse me, the big book you are reading, who writes this book?” I am thinking the guy will tell me who writes the book or ignore me, and probably both, so I am much surprised when he not only tells me who writes the book but starts chatting very pleasant like. And we are chatting about philosophy but I am thinking about my stop coming up, and I am wondering if I should get off when it comes up.

The train gets to Prince Street and I get up and I say to the guy, ”Well, it is nice meeting you.” Then I get off the train, but I turn and say to the guy that if he has any book recommendations he might email me at dixielarue@aol.com. I am not a doll inclined to give my email address to someone, even someone reading a big book on philosophy, even if it is a volume 9, so I am greatly surprised.

The next morning I wake up and I am thinking, “Why do I not stay on the subway?!” and I am full of regret. But later I check my email and I see that the subway guy writes me an email, and a long one at that. We start emailing back and forth about philosophy, and this and that, and I can see this guy is smart as a tree full of owls. Weeks go by and I wonder if this guy is going to ask me on a date, as guys sometimes do. By and by the guy invites me to partake of some pancakes with him at a place that has the best pancakes in the city, and as I am a doll who dearly loves pancakes even when they are far from being the best pancakes in the city, I am pleased to accept his proposition.

Well, we do go out for some pancakes, and they are most delicious. And this guy and I, we are together ever since. Furthermore, March 29th this guy and I get married, so this is a story with a very happy ending indeed.