“The mayor is heading down to Florida. He’s asked a number of people how he can lose 30 pounds real fast. He told them he wants to look good wearing a bathing suit.”
– The Blue Suit talking with Josh Resnek
By JOSH RESNEK with THE BLUE SUIT
During the snow storm, the Blue Suit went through two pounds of sausage, a half pound of hamburger, about a pound of French fries and a half gallon of Allen’s Vanilla ice cream with chocolate bits on top and whipped cream. He told me he nearly ate himself to oblivion as the snow fell.
“I’m so constipated you cannot believe,” the Blue Suit said to me after I picked him up on Elm Street Tuesday afternoon.
‘What do you think caused it?” I asked.
“I think it was the sausage. Too much garlic and spices. I can’t believe how constipated I am,” he repeated.
He moved around in the passenger seat of my red Honda as we sped down Elm Street and headed for Glendale Square. He was uncomfortable. He showed it.
‘Stop at Walgreens” he demanded. “God. I need to get some- thing for this constipation. It’s killing me. I can’t go on this way. It’s almost painful,” he said.
”How long has this been going on?” I asked him.
“Since before the snow storm,” he answered.
“Yikes,” I replied. “That’s not good.”
“You think I don’t know that? I’m the one who’s constipated.” At Walgreens he was met at the door by several people who crowded around him.
One of them, a man in his 30’s, got really excited.
“Hey man. You’re the Blue Suit, aren’t you? Great to meet you. Wait til I tell my mother I met you. You’re her favorite Everett person in the world.”
The Blue Suit was cordial but he needed to get inside Walgreens.
“I’m not myself right now,” the Blue Suit told the fellow. “Please excuse me while I go inside,” he added.
Ten minutes later, the Blue Suit came out of Walgreens carrying a paper bag. He got into the passenger seat of my car. He kind of plopped into the seat.
“I am so uncomfortable you cannot believe,” he said to me. “On top of that, I overheard Carlo talking with a friend earlier today, asking him how to lose 30 pounds real quick. Can you imagine? How do you lose 30 pounds real quick?” he asked me.
I responded honestly.
“I don’t know. I’ve never been in such a situation. My father would have slapped me around if I grew a belly. That wasn’t allowed in the home I grew up in. What did you get for your problem?” I asked the Blue Suit.
“Why does Carlo need to lose the weight so fast?” I asked.
“He’s heading to Florida. He’s worried about what he’s going to look like at the pool,” the Blue Suit replied.
“What’s in the bag?” I asked.
“I bought a pound of prunes.” He showed me the box. “I bought a diary.”
“What’s that for?” I asked.
“I need to keep a food diary and single out the foods that constipate me. I mean, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Generally, I can eat two large Italian subs from DiBlasi’s at one sitting and I never get constipated. Oh,” he added, “ I am supposed to check how I sit on the toilet. The pharmacist told me to do that.”
We both laughed at that.
“What does how you sit on the toilet have to do with constipation?” I wondered.
“How the hell am I supposed to know?” he replied.
I watched him eating the prunes.
That was totally disgusting. I think I’d rather be constipated than eat prunes.
“My mother told me prunes were good for removing constipation. I sure hope this works,” he added.
“What else is in the bag?” I asked him.
“Bran cereal. I hate it. But I hate feeling this way.”
“Now I know how Carlo feels, especially wanting to lose 30 pounds. It is not easy to do – and knowing Carlo as I do, losing the $40,000 longevity payment Monday night is going to cause him to chow down a bit more than usual.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“When he gets hassled by losing money, he eats and he can’t stop and he doesn’t try to stop. It’s all about nerves.”
“Do you think he really cares about losing that $40,000 a year?” The Blue Suit looked at me incredulously.
“You tell me, Josh. He was only supposed to be getting $2,500 a year. Instead, the number was pushed to $40,000 a year by his associates who like to claim he never asked. That’s what Demas said to the council about a month ago. But then, Josh, Carlo doesn’t have to ask the city solicitor what to say, or tell Demas what to do. All he wanted was the $40,000. Now it’s been reduced to $1,700. That’s not good for a guy who cares about money as much as Carlo does. Mind you, I don’t think it’s the end of the world. His buddy Lattanzi called the $40,000 a drop in the bucket. Well, that’s no drop in the bucket. I’d like to ask Lattanzi how many hammers and pounds of nails and disinfectant he has to sell before he nets $40,000 in his Everett hardware store.”
“Yeah. I never thought about it quite that way.” I replied.
Back to the Blue Suit’s problem with constipation.
“Have you thought about training yourself to have a bowel movement at the same time each day?” I asked.
“How the hell do you do that?” the Blue Suit asked me. “Maybe you should try a bowel movement after breakfast. But you have to give yourself enough time. Try to relax your muscles or put your feet on a footstool.”
The Blue Suit looked at me.
“Are you out of your mind. I’m way beyond that, Josh. I can’t go. I’m all backed up. Sometimes I think if I ate another pound or two of sweet sausage, that could get things moving again. You know what I mean?”
“Not really,” I said.
“Maybe I should get you home,” I suggested.
“That sounds like a good idea. I hope Carlo isn’t there. He doesn’t like me when I’m like this.”
I dropped the Blue Suit at the mayor’s mansion. I wondered for a second who plowed Carlo out and did all the shoveling? I bet most of my readers could answer that question.
I watched the Blue Suit walk to the front door. He looked back and waved, and disappeared inside.