Complaining: Furniture, Cell Phones, Everett, and Her

Damn movers! Mamet navigated around the maze of overweight men lugging gaudy old furniture through the lobby. Mamet couldnt understand what people saw in ornate, expensive, completely functionless furniture like the stuff being manhandled across the atrium in front of him. He liked things simple, including the furnshings that he chose to surround himself with. Simple but useful, and in the case of furniture, comfortable. Mamet's bedroom held a plain brass bed, a lamp for reading, and an old radio. Television annoyed him. The one thing that showed some signs of excessive pampering was his terrace garden. Mamet had never been much of a people person and there was something about being alone in nature that put him at peace. He was an avid gardener who enjoyed watching things grow as he nurtured and cared for them. His plants were like children, just without all the diapers and whining, he told himself. This attraction for agriculture was why, at the moment, Mamet was ducking past the last leathered obstacle in the lobby and out the revolving doors into the sunshine. He headed to the garage to pick up his car. He would have rather walked, however, he was planning on buying something rather large for his garden and needed the transportation that a car provided. The valet Pokey wasnt at his stand and Mamet decided to wait. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed the number of the root shop on the other side of town. Next to television, cell phones got under Mamet's skin more than anything. What bothered him most of all is that society delegated that he must own one. He had resisted as long as possible but eventually was forced to purchase one of the infernal gadgets. He kept it turned off as much as possible and "forgot" it at home whenver he could. The woman at the root shop answered and told him that she did, in fact, carry the item that he wished to purchase. He thanked her and hung up. Pokey arrived with the car, Mamet handed him a few dollars tip, and drove off in the direction of the root shop. As he pulled up next to the store, his gaze fell on the book shop located next door. Thinking that it might be good to brush up on some seasonal gardening techniques, Mamet parked the car and walked into the store. A little bell on the door jingled as he pushed it open. The woman at the desk looked up and smiled. He nodded back and turned down one of the aisles that lay between the varnished oak shelves overflowing with colorful volumes. He passed the romance section, glancing over to see the numerous half naked women that were plastered on nearly every book cover in the section. He moved on toward the back of the store, the musty smell of less read books getting stronger. As he past the crime novel section he saw a guy looking at some of the court room dramas. The man was staring intently at the covers as though trying to absorb the content by osmosis. Mamet decided to do him a favor. "Don't read those court room stories. They are a complete waste of time and never even come close to painting even the slightest picture of reality. Thats the reason that young lawyers are always disappointed when they finally become litigators. Its cause they read those pieces of crap." The other man turned and grinned at Mamet. "Hi, Im Everett Carson. You sound like a funny guy. A couple of us have a poker game one night a week, you should stop by." Mamet was a little suprised at this amicable response but replied that he would think about it. The man gave him a telephone number and went on his way. Mamet continued on to the agriculture section, purchased his book, and headed next door to the root shop. He opened the door and was accosted by a strong earthy scent. As he stepped across the threshhold, he glanced to his right and the community garden. Thats when he saw her.