In 2009 AP and his family left Fort Greene for the Easter Weekend. I spent the time alone in the brownstone, feeding the cats, turtle, and fish. My sense of worth was low and I treat the self-loathing with beer, preferably Narragansett. That lager tasted of New England.

Saturday morning 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.

As 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 cruddled container, then threw on my coat to get another quart at the local deli, Ralphs.

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 to 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 on Lafayette. The Bruins were playing an early afternoon game againstthe 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’

MADE ON HONOR, SOLD ON MERIT SINCE 1890.

Painting by Tristam.