THE STUFF OF MY LIFE had been dumped without any thought into cardboard boxes stacked to the ceiling in one of those rent-by-the-month storage facilities on the south side of Vegas.  If I hadn’t returned from the dead who knows what would have happened to it. Sold. The proceeds (if any) given to the state.

I turned to the manager and asked, “Are you sure all that crap is mine?”
“Your name is Dr. Fiona Butters, right?  And you lived at 3814 Juniper Drive, Apt B?, Las Vegas Nevada.” He read from a rental agreement on which my signature had been forged. The poor sod sweat profusely in the hot September sun. His polyester SafeStorage shirt was at least two sizes too small, and a couple of strategic buttons were missing … but at least his fly was up.

“Yup, that was my address. Holy Crap. Where did you say those garbage bins are?”
“Listen lady, anything you don’t want just leave outside the gate. Trust me. Some old buzzard will want it.” He was referring to the gents on the street with their shopping carts already filled with discards.
“A lot of this is just crap.”
“Doesn’t matter – they’ll take it. Sometimes they even sell it.”

During the time that I’d been gone, the city of Vegas had crept even closer to the airport but in all other ways, had not changed. I asked myself if I missed my old life. Missed the thrill of being backstage during a show, the frantic hustle to feed egos, calm nerves and find missing props, the fouler than foul language, the garlic-tinged sweat, the gasps from the crowds as the acrobats performed fifty feet above them. The answer was … sometimes. Life in a college town on the eastern seaboard had taken some getting used to but … once I found the Starlight Players I realized that theater is theater no matter where you are. Besides, I had Lopinsky.

“Lady, if I were you I’d start with the box behind the door. Every month this broad comes by, hands me a sealed envelope and tells me to put it in the black box. I have no idea what’s inside it but…”
“It’s probably just mail.”
“A year’s worth of mail?  Your credit history must be shit.  Don’t you know that you can have it forwarded?”
“I didn’t expect to be gone for so long.” What an understatement! I hadn’t expected to be gone at all. “I didn’t realize I was such a hoarder! This is gonna take me at least two trips to the car so if you don’t mind…”

He wanted a story. Maybe more. He was the sort of fellow I always seemed to attract. But I wanted to get back to my air conditioned suite. Kick off my shoes, have an iced tea and decide which parts of my old life to save.

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Next Friday, August 9th: In Walks Trouble

The Characters in this segment:

• Louie Lopinsky aka The Professor
• Fiona Butters aka Flipka
• Coming next week: Doug Hyman aka The King of Vegas

Tales and strange facts from the Great State of Nevada (the setting of the original Flipka)

• Why Nevada…
• Home means Nevada
• Highway 50 Road Trip
• Win a prize or take a ride