Hedo Turkoglu keeps his head down as he unpacks the luggage from the rent a car. He knows his wife is crossing her arms and using her eyes like the Hubble telescope to examine his faults. Personally, he feels his arms are a little too long, so he pulls his shoulders up, hoping to make his hands dangle closer to his waist; but this forced posture makes carrying her bags difficult. Hedo would like to use this moment to point out that all of the bags are hers, at least all of the full-sized suitcases. Hedo managed to pack all of his belongings in a single toilet kit, mainly because he's wearing every article of clothing he owns, which explains why he's sweating more now that he's arrived in Canada than he ever did in Florida. Farther from the equator than he's been in quite some time, Hedo is feeling the heat more than he ever imagined, but he keeps his complaints to himself. He can hear her tapping her foot now, and that's never a good sign.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Hedo tries to hurry. He's holding one suitcase with both hands, while each of those hands holds another suitcase. He also has a duffle bag hanging over each shoulder. Tap. Tap. The straps criss cross his body; he's the Rambo bellhop. Tap. Tap. He tries skipping steps between the car and the front door of the Toronto brownstone. Tap. Tap. Tap. He's almost made it. He's on the top step. Tap. Tap. He teeters. Tap. He stumbles. Tap. Tap. The duffle bags switch places, swinging around his neck like horseshoes on a metal Tap. stake. The suitcases topple down the steps, unlatching as they fall. Clothes are everywhere. Tap. Tap. Tap. Socks blow in the wind like leaves. Bras cling to the trees, and shirts and pants take the shapes of police chalk outlines on the sidewalk. Hedo's wife continues to tap her foot.
"Don't worry about it, honey. I've got it."
"Could you at least let me in? I haven't used the bathroom since Buffalo."
"Sure thing, honey. I got the key right...," Hedo searches his pockets, pulls them out, allowing lint to flutter down to his shoes. He pats his chest and stomach. His wife wonders if he's swallowed the keys. "I guess I don't have them. Don't worry. We can find them in the time it takes to pick up all our clothes. Good as new."
He hurries down the steps, making sure to hoist his hands closer to his waist by lifting his shoulders closer to his ears. He looks like Cornelius from Planet of the Apes as he scurries up and down the street collecting his wife's wardrobe.
After an hour, Hedo arrives at the top of the stoop with every bag in order. "Now, where is that key?" He stoops down to tie his shoe. "Aha, I put my shoe lace through the key, so I would not lose it. I knew I'd have to tie my shoes sometime." He holds the key up like a first grader displays a lost tooth. His wife snatches it from him, looking to the sky and shaking her head, and enters the house. Hedo stands up and takes in his new neighborhood. "What a great place we found."
He gathers his wife's bags, walks inside, and shuts the door behind him, failing to see that every other house in this perfect neighborhood is up for sale, including the home of Mr. Bosh, head of the neighborhood watch.
2 comments:
Even though he was playing against the Lakers in the finals, I still found myself rooting for him. It's a shame he took all that money for a job he is doomed to fail.
October 21, 2009 at 10:33 AMI love Hedo, but his going to Toronto really didn't move them up that far in the East most likely; and he signed a deal with a team that's unlikely to hold on to its best assets. I know he made the choice for his family, but playing in Portland would have put him with the team that has the brighter future. Of course, I think Portland wound up with the best player for them in Andre Miller, even if he was their 3rd choice
October 21, 2009 at 9:48 PMPost a Comment