THE WHOLE ENCHILADA

A love story in idioms

He was born in a family of small potatoes. As a child, he was a good egg. He matured as a tough nut to crack — finished the Salt of the Earth University, started a nail company, had the luck of the Irish, and became a big cheese in town.

A few years later he hit the nail on the head — he found a second banana. The young lady became the apple of his eye. He was blinded by love. True, she was the smartest cookie in her family jar. She was also a woman for all seasons — an accountant with a face only a mother could love. The girl attracted him because she knew how to cook books and how not to take wooden nickels to his nail company. As the lonely hearts were head over heels he got down on his knee, whispered those three little words, and popped the question. She accepted it as gospel and they became joined at the hip.

Although he loved his nails and she loved hers, at the beginning of the cohabitation they were lovey-dovey — a match made in heaven. Life was a child’s play before they put the first bun in the oven. Then the lovebirds placed all eggs in one basket. They did not count the chickens before they hatched but several children were born on the wrong side of the blanket. Parents’ lives became a hard pill to swallow. The children served them a lot of lemons, plus both of them wanted to call the shots: he wanted to be first among equals and she wanted to be second to none. They led a cat and dog life — for neither rhyme nor reason they fought tooth and nail around the clock. The relationship went on the rocks. Often they kicked up a storm.

The children grew up thick-skinned and tough as old boots. One day they left the place where they hung their hats.

All went downhill from there. The companions became meat and no potatoes — walked in the slow lane pissing on a forest fire day after day. There was no love lost between the two and they lived unhappily ever after.

On the evening of their silver anniversary, while flouncing in a grey area they reached a pearl gate. Bad habits die hard — they started another fight — against time. They became angry enough to chew nails and spit rivets, and unintentionally kicked the bucket placed in front of the gate.

The gate opened and the nail-biting partners saw a light at the end of the tunnel. It was coming from a waiting train the strange bedfellows held tickets for since they were born. They climbed down the steps. Two tickets went up in smoke. The train set its wheels in motion. The darlings felt happy again when their breaths were taken away — they had a life to die for and gladly accepted to rearrange the deckchairs on the Titanic.