Mitzvah

I am either still drunk or have entered a parallel universe: It is, 9 minutes later, POURING DOWN RAIN.
I step off the last flight and open the door to the lobby.
Great. There are people in it.
"My air unit got struck by lightening ... I am too hot!" Bitched this old woman.
"The stairs are slippery and I am already injured," squeeled a smokey woman. There was something about this woman that made her "bitching" o.k. I didn't really take it as bitching ... I kinda wanted to help.
Don't ask why ... It's a Jewish thing.
"Ummmmmm sir?" Said a familiar voice. Guess who ...
No really ... just guess.
Yes.
"Hey fat boy, I was first!" bullied a skinny middle aged man that looked widowed. How? He was wearing a stained white shirt. Any good woman would give share the "bleach solution" with their significant other.
"Oh, sorry sir. I'm about to leave ... promise. I am actually meeting a friend to go to his grandma's for Friday night dinner soo uh... I really need to talk to the tenant real quick." Jeb turns back towards the front deskman.
HE TOO STARTS BITCHING.
I don't interrupt him though. I'm too enthralled with the crippled stranger.
I check her out from her mismatched boots (one medical and one galosh) to her American Spirits enlarging her rearend all the way up to her swollen, solomn face.
Shit, I don't know what the hell she needs. A new face or a new foot? Or a body gaurd? Or just a friend. A lover? Or a caretaker. Her dad? Or a man ... like me?
An old woman walks in through the front door with her little bitch dog; They are both drenched.
"Lady," starts the front deskman. G-d he's such a putz.
Poor thing ... she can't even hear. She continues walking towards to stairwell.
"LADY! THERE'S NO DOGS ALOUD IN HERE LADY!" screams the putz.
The poor bube stops dead in her tracks and looks down at her dog.
"I am sorry sir ... III I didn't remembmer ... I'm getting ablebuddle ... please ... let me atleast dry him off ... He may catch cold ..." says the old woman.
At this, a hurried bitch steps on her dog's tail in hopes of catching the old woman's taxi.
The dog takes off leaving a trail of water throughout the lobby.
The front deskman leaves his post and chases the dog all the way down the hall. The bube hobbles along behind him.
Everyone at the front desk starts to bicker, except the crippled stranger. In an attempt to get herself out of the situation she back- hobbles right into the dog's puddle.
She slipps.
At that instant, I finally woke up ... over hung my hangover: I instantly reacted by going to break her fall.
And that I did.
Except in the process, I took Jeb down with me ... or on top of me.
How am I still alive? NOOOO idea.
The girl lets out a little squeel. It was strangely adorable.
An oldman offers a hand to her. She recieves it kindly and struggles to get her footing. She's up.
She then extended her hand for Jeb along with a smile.
Jeb excepts, then starts to conversate with my stranger.
I am still on the floor ... The puddle has started to settle into my pants.
Awesome.
Thankg-d for this girl, for she didn't forget about me. She pushes Jeb aside ever so slightly with her bony fingers and extends her hand.
"Thankyou ... what a mitzvah." The girl said with a smile.
I study her characters looking for a sign of anything jewish. She has no oversized nose ... no stereotypical features. But this word ... this was a sign.
"What's your name?" I ask ignoring her thanks.
"Marie ... Marie Voulez."
There is nothing Kosher about that name. But I don't really care.

Getting there

Let's try this again.
Wake up
Take
20.
6 hours, 5 interruptions, 4 cups of water, 3 piss breaks, 2 puke seshs and 1 dream later.
4:51.
I need some fucking air. But I'm not risking it going down to the lobby, yet. I've got 9 more minutes till I'm meeting Jeb in the lobby.
I stagger to the window across from the kitchen ... I figure if I'm going to make it out of bed now is my chance.
The sun hits my face and falls warm on my body ... unusually warm.
I look down.
I don't even want to know why I'm not wearing clothes.
Whatdya know ... everybody's in chaos!
Looks like maybe I need to make another "anouncement". But man, if this is going to start happening like this often, maybe I should just make fliers or something ...
I unlatch the stubborn window.
It's understanding today and gives me no trouble.
I look up and smile.
I say thankyou.
It is hot as hell out. Why is it so pretty out?
Why?
Bubby must be thrilled ... I bet we'll eat on the back terrace tonight. Better yell down to Jeb to bring bug spray ... I know he's gotta have some weird allergy to garden bugs or something ... he just WOULD.
I try to remember what I didn't do last night and I can't come up with anything.
Something across the street catches my eye.
I stare long enough to see black spots for a couple seconds.
What the hell is that?
I need a better view.
I put on some dungarees and my cons.
O.K. ... and a beer. I head up to the roof. The climb up should wake me up.
Once up top, I pop my beer open on the ladder. Chicks love that.
I head over towards the west wall facing the street with the shiny thing that freakin blinded me.
I take a swig of beer and look down.
I see a girl ... she's the shiny thing.
In her hand she twirls an object that hangs around her neck.
Guess I can't get a non blinding view from ANYWHERE on this freaking building can I.
"Hey ... can you put that fuckn' thing away PLEASE? You're blinding me." I say shielding my eyes maybe to exaggerate a BIT ... she looks kinda cute.
"Aberdeen does nothing for no one jerk" she replies.
What a bitch.
I look down at my wrist. 4:59.
I don't have time for this.
I chug the rest of my beer and toss my bottle into the gutter.
I give her the finger and an old Italian gesture.
I fly down the ladder, stop by my room and grab a shirt and head for the lobby.
5:00.
Don't worry ... I'm getting there.

The Aftermath

STOP BANGING.
I turn over to make eye contact with the clock's hands.
They taunt me.
Seconds of the day are just ticking away ... this hangover just won't stand UP.
It's going to have back problems. SO FUCK IT. KARMA I tell you ... KARMA.
WHO THE HELL IS KNOCKING AT MY DOOR AT 2:00 IN THE AFTERNOON?
G-d, when did the second hand on my clock get so LOUD?
Don't tell me ....
I hear children screaming and laughing, carnival lights buzzing and blinking, rides singing, beer tapping, and funnel cakes nauseating.
Fuck them.
"BBBGOCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK bgbgbggbg bgogckkk"
Chikens?
Hashem, you're really throwing me for a loop here aren'tcha.
I sit on the edge of my bed ...
My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth.
It peels off, each taste bud letting go like the sucker of an octopus.
I fall backwards.
Beer and funnel cakes.
Who knew?
Bubby ... g-d she always fucking does, doesn't she?
WELL, guess I'm skipping Shabbat dinner tonight ... I'm too hungover.
Fuck, I did that last Friday.
I need to make a move.
The kitchen is too far.
So, I roll over towards my message machine.
The red light is blinking.
GREAT.
Let's get this over with.
"Hey John, its Jeb, you know... Jeb... from down a few flights ... well more like a bunch of flights ... well ANYWAYS I had a lot of fun last night ... the beer, the funnel cakes, and your Grandma ... or whatdyou call her? Bubba? Well whatever, she's a HOOT! And Courtney? DUDE... nice score last night ... she's hot. Sure talks alot ... but she's hot ... Anyways, I'll meet you in the lobby at 5 ... Bubba said Shabbat starts no later than sun down... right? What should I bring? There are loose chikens in the streets ... have you been outside yet today? IT's CRAZY! Well ... after I knocked out that guy last night and you threatened that gangbanger with a ..."
I can't. Do. This.
Pull the chord out of the outlet.
Hey Bruce,
(I say to poster of Bruce Springstein on the ceiling over my bed)
wake me up at 4:55 for Shabbat dinner ...
Bubby will kill me if I miss again.
I hit the pillow. Hard.

Soliciting

I guess nobody has problems anymore ... nobody needs any FREAKING free advice or group consolation anymore!! EVERYONES CURED OF EVERYTHING THEY'VE EVER HAD!!! And anything they've had comming ... well it turned around and said, "FUHHHGET ABOTT ITTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT," with a light foot pop, head tilt, wave.
This city could use some congratulatorys ... lets see whos around to collect. I head towards the only window in my great room ... it's sealed tight. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh shmutzick!
It pops, like the clutch of the old 500 Shelby my aba was too FRUGAL to replace ... G-d do I come from a line of cheap asses ... Wait ... Don't tell bubby I said that ... she hates profanity. Just say I said Jews ... she'll get it ... I know you do.
I lean out the window far enough so that the ledge inside meets my stomach.
"ALRGIHT YOU LUCKY SCHMUCKS ..."
I spot a girl with long hair and a green jacket munching on a waffle ... oy gavalt ... I know this kind ...
"Stress Eater?" I called out.
The long- haired girl stopped. She took a few steps towards the street, backwards so she could look up at me.
"Who the fuck do you think you are asshole?" The girl said ... O.k. I got the picture ... sensitive topic. SEE I KNEW NOT EVERYONE WAS CURED!!! I should have approached her from closer ... like not from 50 fucking floors up from her.
"I AM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And I don't deny it. I can't stop. I won't stop ... Well, I will if I run out of food ... but all of the places around here deliver and I work online so like I was saying I WONT STOP!!!! But I need to ..." said a quavering man.
I look down ... I see a familiar head ... The head turns, and the man looks up.
It's Jeb. What the fuck ... I am trying to solicit here and he's freakin BUISNESS BLOCKING!!!
Wait.
Did he say he was a stress eater? DID HE SAY HE HAD A PROBLEM AND HE NEEDED HELP STOPPING?!?!??!?!?!?!
O.K. I can't fuck this up ... I have two perfect life support members here ... We've got a defensive bitch, who possibly has a stress eating issue ... and a fearfull chubster ... awesome ... Don't fuck this up John ... we NEED THIS ...
"Hey Jeb," I say just so he knows his presence is known and feels included, "Listen ... " I say motioning at the girl standing in the street. "How about a knosh? Let's say ..." I'm interuppted.
Who the fuck is this schmechel?
"EXCUSE ME SONS ..." says a fat officer holding a hot dog in one hand and a lemonade in the other.
You know, police officers should have an off duty sign like taxis do ... THAT WAY if they are off duty and try to govern us in any way we can just say "FUCK YOU YOU'RE OFF DUTY!!!!"
"Yes sir?" Jeb says in a quavering voice ... (what's new?) He can be such a suckup this guy ... it's probably because hes a freaking baby and wants to be in good with the police JUST IN CASE.
"Hi ya'll, I'm Lt. Rocco Statone. Just tryin' to keep a safe neighborhood 'round these here parts ..."
"I SUPPORT YOU COMPLETELY," says Jeb giving him a dumbass salute.
The officer shakes his head.
"Anyways, please get back in your windows ... Don't want anybody fallin' out now you hear? Sanitation isn't too good 'round here so ya'lls bodies could be rottin' on this hear street for days."
"SURE THING OFFICER. THANKYOU FOR SERVING OUR COUNTRY!"
Jeb, you are such a FAG.
Lt. schmehel carries on.
"As I was saying," I start, "How about a little snack ... Jeb you need to get out, I need to help people, and you my dear ... I think you need a friend."
I point to the carnival across the street.
"Funnel cakes and beer?" I gesture. I know Bubby wouldn't approve ... and that the food at that carnival isn't the only thing not Kosher, but ... this is buisness, right?
"Umm ... is there security there?" Jeb askes.
Of course.
"I'm in ... I don't know why ... but I am ..." says the girl shrugging her shoulders.
"It's kind of chilly ... I better not go ... I think I'm getting sick anyways," Jeb said, shaking his head.
"Great." I say to the girl. "Jeb," I say shaking my head, "YOU'RE COMMING."
The girl started walking towards the fair, and Jeb was silent.
"Well ... O.k. I guess ... Will you come get me John? These elevators are unpredictable and I don't want to get stuck in there alone and you won't know where I am and the girl will wonder what happend to me and my parents will never know because YOU WON'T BE ABLE TO CALL AND TELL THEM BECAUSE YOU WON'T KNOW AND ..."
I cut him off; I have to.
"COMMING RIGHT NOW."
I look out to see if the girl is still in sight.
She's not.
"By the way, my name's Alex," said the girl, screaming from a block away.

Topics of Discussion

Bruce is taking good care of me these days. Hes the one person you can always depend on ... even in weather like this. When everything else goes out ... like the stereo Bubby Doestein gave me for my Bar Mitzvah 20 years ago ... Bruce still plays on, for that god forsaken battery-powered tape player doesn't depend on the electricity like the other un-self sufficient IDIOT appliances in my walk up. You know sometimes, honestly, I have to get on my knees and act like I know what I'm doing in order to give respect to my toilet. Toilets aren't Jewish ... why would G-d choose them? SO, they don't know that when I am on my knees with my elbows inches apart and hands clasped holding each other like the hands of two people in love that I have no f***g idea what I'm supposed to be doing down there ... like what I'm supposed to say ... I don't pray to idols ... usually ... I mean it's not within the guidelines of my religion ... BUT it is within the respect of my budget so I do it in order to avoid a visit from the plumber, Doc.
Shit do I feel bad for that fat kid ... Jeb that I met in the elevator the other day. I know I have to go up like 5 more floors than him, but I am not carrying 90% body fat. I think he said he gained something like 20 lbs.? What a schmuck ... except I bet he's not ... HES F***G HUGE! The elevator not working is probably the worst thing that could happen to him ... he doesn't deserve it. So he's probably definitely not taking up that invite for LS tonight ... he couldn't make it up here.
Taking all things into consideration, like the fact that the only appliance that is working right now is my tape player, which at this rate I will probably marry because Bubby Doestien doesn't have much time and she wants to do the hora one more time before she you know .., the meeting tonight might be a little ... dark.
So what about lyric interpretation? "Nothing man" has a lot of underlying meaning ... AND let's not forget a side of self worthlessness ... WHICH could lead to a detour roof-top visit. Fuck. I am so tired of seeing people jump ... I mean at least with the sleet and freezing temperatures maybe this time something different could happen ... like a slip instead of just a JUMP. BUT that is totally last resort worst case scenario ...
Just saying though ... I mean if someone WERE to do it ... and tonight is one of those nasty nights where it's just written in the sky "SOMEONE WILL DO IT," it would just be much appreciated if I could have a different story for the doctors and family.
O.k. no "Nothing man." No one is doing it tonight on my watch ... and YES ... THAT is battery run, too.
How about something positive ... likeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee ... cheese. Shit, what if someone is allergic. Lactose intolerance these days is way to freaking common.
Future plans? Like traveling? OFCOURSE!!!! Not. No one travels anymore.
I need something that has to do with LIFE .. c'mon JOHN ... this is LIFE SUPPORT ... not BOREDOM support, or FOOD support ...
Why the hell do I run these meetings again?

Who am I?

I am apartment 1399. I am the host of Life Support at 8 p.m. Monday-Monday. I am the voice heard throughout Wilshire Tower at dawn's peak, for I am the shower singer you all seek at 6 a.m. I am the grandson of Bubby Doestein, founder of Schmorgaboard. I am the scarf you wrap around your neck, for you probably bought it at the street corner where I knit them myself and have the hot-dog stand man sell them for me.
Friends ... well I'd be lying if I said friends ... group members call me Doestein, John Doestein. It's somewhat ironic that I hold Life Support in my cubicle, for it offers the rooftop up only a small fire- escape ladder. How many suicides have I seen? Too many. How many attempts have I stopped? Well ... none ... yet.