Holy Saturday

AP and his family left Fort Greene for the Easter Weekend. I’ve been alone in the brownstone, feeding the cats, turtle, and fish. My sense of worth is low and I treat that with beer, preferably Narragansett. That lager tasted of New England.

This morning I finished re-writing IN HEAVEN ABOVE, my comedy script about a bankrupt nation fending off their debtor by outfitting their decrepit Space Shuttle to hold a lottery with the winning prize a trip to the stars and the chance to be the first man to make love in orbit.

After writing THE END I brewed a cup of tea.

After letting the teabag seep its essence into the water, I sweetened the cup with a spoonful of sugar and then poured in milk. It had gone bad and I cursed the cuddled container, then threw on my coat to get another quart at the local deli.

I stepped out of the house and closed the door.

As soon as the lock clicked shut, I checked my pockets for the keys.

They were upstairs on a hook.

“Fuck.” I was speaking for my alter ego, Johnny Fuck-Up.

I called AP. He gave me the nanny’s number. There was no answer. I called Joe the Plumber, the neighborhood handyman. He came over and said, “$50.”

“Could you do it for $20?”

“Not a chance.” He had his pride.

“Then I’ll wait.” I was hoping for a counter-offer.

“It’s your party, but if you change your mind, you know my number.” Joe was playing hardball. It was Easter weekend.

I wandered down the street to Mullane’s. The Bruins were playing the Flyers. I ordered a beer. The telephone rang. It was the nanny. She was down the street.

“I have keys for you.”

“You are the best.”

I met her and got back into the house.

The turtle was happy to see me. They know how to grin and I poured him a little ‘Gansett’


Painting by Tristam.

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