Out of the Frying Pan
Haylene and Marla were standing by the side of the road in their underwear under a pink Florida moon. FOR MY NEW READERS - A six-minute adventure from the archive
This is Part 3 of Out of the Frying Pan, the road adventures of Haylene and Marla, two women on the loose in Florida. I post it for my newest readers who may not have met these two wild women yet. And if they make you laugh, there’s more! • Part 1 HERE • Part 2 HERE •Part 4 HERE • Part 5 HERE • Part 6 HERE • Part 7 HERE • Part 8 HERE
Haylene and Marla were standing by the side of the road in their underwear. A huge pink Florida moon shone on them like a spotlight as they waited for help. Behind them, the waves were doing a rhythmic shuffle, sending a wash of little pebbles dancing in and out … in and out.
The two companions had spent the afternoon at the race track. They wore their new wide-brimmed straw hats and skimpy flowered sundresses. It gave the men a place to rest their eyes between bouts of yelling at horses and weeping over lost rent money.
“Come on, Snoozle! Come on! Move your ass, big boy!”
Haylene had placed her money on L’il Snoozle for no reason, other than that his name reminded her of her first husband. And, like her first husband, L’il Snoozle let her down. Marla bet on Sofa King Proud, ( a name you had to say out loud a few times for full appreciation. ) He was a favorite of the day, and won her $400. She hopped around like a raccoon on a pogo stick, yelling “I won! I won! I won!” She was as happy as all get out! Fortune had never been kind to her back home in Tennessee.
Haylene kissed another $200 good-bye on a couple of other apparently unmotivated horses, but win or lose, she didn’t care. “Fiddle-dee-dee,” she said, and ordered another . That woman had money in places where most women don’t even have places, and was just looking for novel ways to spend it. She found Marla to be a great help in that department. They were a perfect duet — the Profligates.
They left the track about three and went straight into the casino. Marla played some of her racetrack winnings at the black jack table and won another $200. That sweet little thing was in tall cotton all day long; it was a new experience for her — winning.
“Haylene, I think I missed my calling. I could get used to this!”
“Well, you know, Marla, even a blind squirrel finds an acorn sometimes!” she laughed. “I swear you look as pretty as a peach settin’ there. If you’ll stop wigglin’ for a minute, I’ll take your picture.”
Marla paid back the money Haylene had loaned her at the track and then took her for a nice dinner at Carlito’s Surf and Turf down on Gaviota. The handsome young waiter said, “Evening, ladies, my name is Celestino, and I will be your server tonight.” Marla, momentarily as shy as a red-eared turtle, was hypnotized by his dark eyes. He might as well have been swinging a pocket watch on the end of a chain.
“What time you get off work, handsome?” asked Haylene, who never missed an opportunity to flirt. Marla’s cheeks turned a bright shade of fuchsia. “Haylene!” she said. He just smiled and winked at them and took their orders.
Around nine or so, the two of them stepped out into a warm, balmy night. “I know what let’s do,” said Haylene. “Let’s drive down the coast a couple miles and go for a little ol’ swim.”
“I don’t have my swimsuit, Haylene.”
“Who cares, sweetheart? It’s dark, its late – no one’s gonna see us. Wouldn’t mind if they did! Come on, it’ll be buckets of fun.”
Haylene pulled the classic Camaro into an empty parking area behind a sand dune and they stripped off their clothes. It was late and the entire beach was deserted. They grabbed towels, secured the car, and ran down to the shore in their underwear like maniac teenagers at spring break. They thrashed right into the bright, moonlit surf. Haylene did a little whale act, floating on her back for a while, wiggling her toes. Marla mostly jumped up and down in the breakers and shrieked.
When they returned to the dunes, Haylene discovered everything was still safely locked in the car – everything, including her phone and her car keys. “Well! If that don’t beat all! How the hell did I let that happen? Sometimes I am as dumb as a doorknob.”
Marla gave out a little cat-like mew. “What are we gonna do now, Haylene?”
“Well...we’ll just have to find us some help, that’s all.” She grabbed Marla’s hand and they wandered back out to the empty road with towels around their shoulders and just stood there waiting for someone to drive by.
After a while, a rusty old Chevy pickup with a dog in the back tore past them. Then it slid to a stop and backed up erratically along the verge, tires throwing off gravel. The women jumped out of the way as the dog barked out a greeting. The guy on the passenger side, who happened to be missing his two front teeth, rolled down his window. Haylene peered in and saw they were just two guys with beards and long hair, who were absolutely not in any condition to be driving … let alone assault anyone. The men thought they were seeing things — two beautiful mermaids standing there wrapped in towels with their hair dripping sea water? Were they dreaming?
Finally, one said, “Ladies? What are y’all doing out here on the road? Are y’all in trouble? Anything we can do?”
Marla stood behind Haylene, not liking the situation AT. ALL. “Yessir, there sure is,” said Haylene. They didn’t look like murderers to her, not that she had ever seen a murderer up close, but still. “I have locked my keys and my phone in the car and we could sure use some help getting them out.”
The driver said, “Well, I could call the triple-A truck for y’all if ya want.” The other said, “Hell, Jackson, that’d take forever. I got me a clothes hanger in the tool box. I can open a door in that old car in five minutes flat and you gals will be on your way, right as rain.” He stumbled out of the truck, rooted around in the back for a few minutes, and proceeded to do just as he promised. Both men got damp hand-shakes from the women, then they staggered back to their vehicle and were on the road with $40 extra in their pockets, a thank you for the rescue. It was a story those men would no doubt retell a few hundred times, whenever good stories were in short supply.
Marla and Haylene silently got their clothes on and drove back to their motel. Neither one was talking much.
“Marla?” said Haylene. “I don’t know about you, darlin’ … but I feel like I done overcooked my grits. We been on the road for near three weeks, girl. I think I’ve had about as much fun as I can stand. What do you say we go on home tomorrow and rest up a while?”
In the morning, after buying some coffee and a bag of jelly donuts, they pointed that ‘79 Camaro north and settled in for the three hour drive to Vero Beach.
They were worn slap out.
• Part 1 HERE • Part 2 HERE •Part 4 HERE • Part 5 HERE • Part 6 HERE • Part 7 HERE • Part 8 HERE. These can be read in any order.
One Hialeah howl racing down the track to hitch a ride with a few drinks on the Side. Choice writing words Sharron. My bet’s on the Camaro not getting to Tennessee for quite some time.
These two gals always crack me up. Another great adventure Sharron. This line was just too funny, I had to chuckle..."Haylene had placed her money on L’il Snoozle for no reason, other than that his name reminded her of her first husband. And, like her first husband, L’il Snoozle let her down." - Jim