A writer doomed by his lack of memory must resort to fiction or the testimony of an eyewitness.
This is no fiction, dear reader.
Sure my recollection is hazy, but I can still sense the emotions, the smearing lights, and the raving madness I inspired in the Village one night.
On the approach to my lady's abode, after a considerable amount of carousing, I stopped at the corner store that we affectionately refer to as The Korean.
I'm not sure of my motive, but judging from the angle at which I conversed with the merchant, I believe I was withdrawing money from the ATM to purchase more beer.
The pressure on my kidneys was volcanic. I asked the merchant if I could use his restroom and he snarled at me and said he didn't have one.
In the background, my lady said, “let's go home, you can use the bathroom there,” but I was vexed.
"Criminal! Savage! To refuse your restroom is against the law! I shall call the police!”
The merchant took this as an idle threat even though I dialed 911 on my cell phone. He was right. I knew better than to send the call, the bugger had called my bluff.
I exited the store and nearly fell over a milk crate lying by its entrance. It sputtered onto the street. I snatched the thing and without a moment’s hesitation, I fired it at the storefront with all my might.
The empty box ricocheted off the window and bounced back toward me as if the glass was armor. Hysterically, the merchant flew out of the door, screeching like a spoiled child who’s mother has told him no.
He drew forth another milk crate and charged me with wrath in his eyes. I retrieved mine off the pavement and faced him head on.
We were within striking distance. He rattled his crate and I rattled mine back, but we never came to blows. I could feel his momentum ebb as I, too, had called his bluff.
My girlfriend, amused by the absurdity of it all, offered a quid pro quo where I drop my shabby bludgeon in return for a slice of Joe’s Pizza at her expense. Drawn to the brighter flame, I flicked the box aside and came to a gushing realization that I still had to piss.
And piss I did, good reader.
This is no fiction, dear reader.
Sure my recollection is hazy, but I can still sense the emotions, the smearing lights, and the raving madness I inspired in the Village one night.
On the approach to my lady's abode, after a considerable amount of carousing, I stopped at the corner store that we affectionately refer to as The Korean.
I'm not sure of my motive, but judging from the angle at which I conversed with the merchant, I believe I was withdrawing money from the ATM to purchase more beer.
The pressure on my kidneys was volcanic. I asked the merchant if I could use his restroom and he snarled at me and said he didn't have one.
In the background, my lady said, “let's go home, you can use the bathroom there,” but I was vexed.
"Criminal! Savage! To refuse your restroom is against the law! I shall call the police!”
The merchant took this as an idle threat even though I dialed 911 on my cell phone. He was right. I knew better than to send the call, the bugger had called my bluff.
I exited the store and nearly fell over a milk crate lying by its entrance. It sputtered onto the street. I snatched the thing and without a moment’s hesitation, I fired it at the storefront with all my might.
The empty box ricocheted off the window and bounced back toward me as if the glass was armor. Hysterically, the merchant flew out of the door, screeching like a spoiled child who’s mother has told him no.
He drew forth another milk crate and charged me with wrath in his eyes. I retrieved mine off the pavement and faced him head on.
We were within striking distance. He rattled his crate and I rattled mine back, but we never came to blows. I could feel his momentum ebb as I, too, had called his bluff.
My girlfriend, amused by the absurdity of it all, offered a quid pro quo where I drop my shabby bludgeon in return for a slice of Joe’s Pizza at her expense. Drawn to the brighter flame, I flicked the box aside and came to a gushing realization that I still had to piss.
And piss I did, good reader.