A Visit to Dr Shiva

Mr C has this strange relationship with a client that I can't figure out. His code name is Dr. Shiva and suspiciously, he sort of reminds me of a weasel. He has an answer for everything and many hands in many different pots.

"Dr Shiva, il s'occupe de tout." (Dr Shiva does everything).

Right.

So we've been looking into buying another car (finally) that doesn't stall all the time (it used to be embarrassing and scary but now I'm an old hat at getting halfway through a traffic circle when the engine dies). Which means that we need to figure out a way to get rid of our old, dangerous, car.

Mr C's motto: When in doubt, consult with dubious clients.

Saturday, I fired up our clunker, piled the kids in and took the car to meet Mr C who wanted to see if Dr Shiva could figure out a way to get rid of the thing. Without our liability coming into question, of course. Our meeting spot was in front of Dr Shiva's "business" premises (which consisted of a dry cleaners and a "taxiphone"/epicerie.

Explanatory aside: Epicerie is a 'mom&pop shop' which is sometimes called an 'arabian' store (l'arabe) perhaps because they're usually owned by North Africans (Mr C thinks Dr Shiva is originally from Pakistan though he could be from India. It's not really something you ask). Taxiphone is a non-word referring to telephone booth rental, internet services and fax machines. Why taxiphone? No Freaking Idea.

Dr Shiva looked at the car, asked Mr C how much he wanted for it and said no problem (we knew he would). The two of them talked trash for a couple of minutes and then Mr C wrapped it up.

All this time, the kids were watching Dr Shiva. Entranced. Perhaps it was his pot belly. Perhaps it was his lovely smile. Perhaps it was his bulging round eyes in his perfectly round head. They shook their heads as though waking from a dream when he asked them if they were thirsty.

"Wha?...." had barely come out of Kilian's mouth when Dr Shiva thrusted a cherry coke in his hand.

Then he looked at me, "How about you? Would you like something to drink?"

I hadn't yet had time to say it wasn't necessary when he put his finger to his nose à la Santa Clause, winked and then disappeared towards the back of his shop.

"Here. This is perfect for you." He handed me a box of herbal tea. "This blend has been very successful in my shop. It's a special tea to lose weight."

...


"Um." I looked at Mr C and could see a grin flirting with his eyes. "Thanks?"

We were about 50 yards from Dr Shiva's shop when I burst out laughing. "He just insinuated that I'm a fat cow!"

"I told you that Dr Shiva s'occupe de tout. He's a man full of ideas!"

"He gave you a box of tea too. You planning on drinking any of it?"

"Are you crazy?"