To Act is to Live

'When are you going to open your Christmas box?'

'I don't have a Christmas box,' I said, rather puzzled because I couldn't get her drift.

'Would you like one?'

I shrugged my shoulders. 'I don't believe in Father Christmas anymore, Carmen.'

'That's a great pity! A man who could play Peter Pan if he was a foot shorter and doesn't believe in magic! A man who could be the wise Wizard of Oz but refuses to wave his magic wand or say the magic word. An Ali-Baba Aladdin who abhors his "Open Sesame!" She shook her head in disbelief and upended the cannister to let the last of the beer dribble down her throat. A few drops landed in her cleavage.

'More beer?'

I would have been quite prepared to lick the drops from her chest, but she jumped up, limbering lissomly to the bar fridge and produced one can. 'We'll have to share it.' She came over to me and held out the can. I reached out but she did not let go, so my big hand closed over hers. She smiled broadly and then broke into a chuckle. 'That's "open sesame"!'

'What do you mean?'

'I'm sure you know the story of Ali-Baba and the forty thieves. It opened the cave with all the treasures of the thieves.'

'Yeah, I know that, but what is the connection?'

'The magic touch, you big, stupid, lovable oaf! I was on the point of faking a cramp in my legs when you pulled that this morning!'

'Why ever would you do that?'

'So you could save me, dummy! Ever since The Importance... O fuck, I've got a Christmas box for you! And I think you have a fitting gift for me too.'

I clicked! I gave her a command performance, all unrehearsed, mind you, and my carnal critic was so thoroughly thrilled that I had to give three encores.

It was the start of a beautiful friendship...