DEADLY SOCIAL MISTAKES (From the Journal of Able Fawlty)

I was watching a political debate on TV while eating Cheez its. I got up from bed to get a toothpick and thought about the debate. Here are these three men who belong to the same party all at each others' throats. It reminded me to feed the fish and call up Kathy. I met Kathy last night at a dark bar on Clinton Street at Two AM and hoped she remembered me. I was biting my lip as I dialed the number.

"Hello."

"Hi. Kathy?"

"Uh hmm."

"Hi, this is Able? From last night, you know, Abbotts Gigalo Bar?"

"Hmmm. Yeah I remember, I think. I gave you my number last night?"

"Yeah. You said I should call you." She really said please call me."

"Oh. Well...uhm."

"So what's up?"

"Listen, uhhh, I shouldn't have given you my number. I have a boyfriend. I must've been really drunk."

"You were a little drunk. But "

Click

I went to feed my fish. I had just bought a new Black Swarmy that was a little smaller, more expensive and sleeker than my five angelfish and turtle. I dropped some food in the tank and that was when I noticed the carnage. Three angelfish were dead from the Swarmy and the Swarmy was caught in the grips of the turtles jaws. I was there to catch the Swarmy in its death throes. I scooped its remains along with the dead angelfish and flushed them down the toilet. The turtle had a look in its eyes like some cops or anitfa zombies I've seen at certain busts. Gotta get rid of that righteous turtle I thought to myself.

I selected two cassettes, my walkman, cigarettes, some money, my double jacket and hit the streets. Brooklyn was gray today and seemed to live up to the cliché of the big impersonal blue-collar mega-villa on the sea. I waved hello to my neighbor Nino who was cleaning his red Cadillac. When the bus came, I took a seat in the back right corner on top of the tire. It was always hot in that spot and it shook more than the other seats. The total effect was not unlike being on a heated bed inside of a vibrator.

In front of me sat three black girls looking at the transit map on the wall. Across from them sat an old lady in a green leather coat, purple scarf around orange hair in rollers and three plastic bags at her feet.

"What stop are you girls looking for?"

"No stop" said one of the girls. She had on about twenty buttons of various size and shape with all kinds of logos and phrases. Poverty Sucks, Fk Drumph, Did I Ask You?, I'm a hard working New Yorker, Don't eat at Joe's, Eat Joe. It had a mesmerizing effect when combined with my seat and my iPhone jukebox.

"There's no such thing as No Stop, unless that's in Mill Basin, I don't know Mill Basin that well. Are you girls going to Mill Basin? Where do you want to go? I'll help you."

"We're looking for Key Food."

"Key Food. I think there's one on Tenth Street. Hmmm, Key Food."

The three girls were rolling their eyes at the woman when the bus stopped. They looked at each other and got off the bus. The old lady was still talking. I turned my iPhone up and imagined her mouthing the words to the speed-death-metal-punk-funk music that was playing.

"Key Food. I don't think there's a Key Food here. Is there a Key Food here? I think there's one on Tenth Street. But I don't see a Key Food here." Then she got up and stood by the door. At the next busy intersection, the bus stopped and swung its doors open, letting passengers in and out. The old lady started up again.

"These doors don't close. Why don't these doors close? Are they broken? These doors are broken."

A frantic looking man opposite the doors got up to check the doors. He was trying to close the doors and his face started turning red from exertion. After twenty seconds of this a fat man in a blue Union Workers jacket sitting near me started mumbling.

"The bus is still at the stop. Asshole, the driver will close it."

The guy at the door finally gave up when the driver spoke over the speaker: "Please don't do that to the doors, I am in control."

The man sat down with his hands in his lap avoiding everyone's incredulous stares. The old lady remained at the door, oblivious. It wasn't her stop anyway. The doors finally closed, the bus pulled away and I turned up my iPhone. A girl, sitting near the mad doorman, adjusted her sunglasses and raised the volume on her iPhone.

Two stops later I got up to get out. The girl with her iPhone and the doorman also got out. They walked in the same direction in front of an abandoned Key food. The doorman looked both ways and then approached the girl. She screamed when he started strangling her from behind. They're both down on the ground. I lower the volume a little and debate myself whether or not I should get involved. I decide to jump into the fray and clock the doorman. The guy's nose starts bleeding. The doorman touches it, sees the blood and starts screaming and crying.

"You bastard you hurt me. You hurt me."

"Well what do you think you were doing to her?"

"She made a fool out of me. It was her fault. She kept raising the volume. I couldn't hear myself think."

"So you tried to kill her. Why didn't you attack the old lady at the door? She's the one who got you to try to close the door."

"No, she needed help"

"What are you crazy or something? Why don't you just get the hell out of here?"

"This isn't my stop. It's her fault. Now I'm late for lunch."

Then another bus came and he got on, his hands immediately sinking into his lap as he sat down. The bus pulled away with him ignoring our gazes. I turned to the girl. Why do people involve themselves with others that they don't even know? Does it help their minds feel better about themselves or is it that they just get so bored or lonely and are just excitement junkies, flawed at heart. What could I possibly want from this girl? She's not even my type.

"Thanks a lot. You saved me from that asshole. I thought he was crazy on the bus, but I didn't think he'd actually..."

I looked her over again before saying anything. She was wearing a variation of the traditional Brooklyn Cuishinette outfit: tight, distressed blue jeans, pink ruffle socks, white tennis sneakers and matching leather jacket. Like I said, not my type, but then again, she was kind of cute and didn't seem evil and that was definitely a start.

"Yeah, well he probably just had a bad day. Maybe he's a PTSD Vet."

"I mean, you saw, I wasn't doing anything to him."

"Uh huh. Look, I gotta go. I'm glad I could help."

"Where are you going? I'm sorry, I have no business asking."

I thought yeah, you're right you have no business asking, but instead I said "I'm going to the Fish Store. Do you know where it is?"

"No. Sorry. I don't even eat fish."

"No. It's a pet shop. I got the address here somewhere. 337 West 13th street."

"Oh. The Pet shop! That's about two blocks north of here. I'll walk you."

"That's okay. You just go on doing what you were gonna do."

"I was gonna walk that way anyhow. Listen, how about I buy you a soda. You look like you could use a drink."

"A drink maybe, but a soda?"

"Yeah, there's this new drink, Adrenaline, with .0005% calories and ten times the caffeine of a shot of espresso in it. I figured it was a good time to try it."

"A good time? Why?"

"What are you an echo? Okay, forget about the drink. You're probably a weirdo anyway!"

"Wait! Hold on a minute. I'm not a weirdo!" Was that me saying that? An active continuation of the torture, I must be a masochist. Besides, I usually pride myself on being a weirdo.

"Prove it"

"Prove it?"

"There's that echo again..."

"All right. I have a fish-tank, as you've probably guessed and I tolerate small children."

"Keep trying."

"I have a lot of friends. That is, I used to."

"And what happened? This is crucial to your not being a weirdo."

"They all split all over the country. Some were never really friends anyway and I don't know where they are and some I just gave up on."

"You may just be even sicker than that guy who tried to kill me."

"Speaking of which, don't you think you should be a little easier on me. I mean, I did just help you. I didn't have to." There it was, my bargaining point. So there was something I was after, maybe a little decency? Nah.

"Okay maybe you're not a weirdo, there's just so many around. Can I buy you a drink."

"Well how do I know you're not a weirdo?"

"Maybe I am. So what? You know I have a fish tank also. In fact, I work at the pet store."

"Do you like Cheez-its?"

Checkmate.