When the plates were cleared away and the waiter brought his fortune cookie he leaned back in the chair, one arm over the back of the chair, nonchalantly toying with the fortune cookie and feeling a warm glow inside. He picked the cookie up and smiled as he rolled it around in his hand, tapped it on the plate, spun it around playing spin the fortune cookie and eventually leaned over and snapped it in half and extricated the fortune: Today is a day to assert yourself. He pulled his shoulders back, yeah, thats right. His back was straight as he walked from the restaurant, and self-confidence exuded from him.
   He had scheduled two appointments for the afternoon and both went smoothly and ended in large orders just as he knew they would. He had the right combination now and had the world by the tail. He could not lose. That he knew. He could not lose. He was a winner.
   The following day he started to get a slight premonition, a tremor, when he realized he would have to change his routine, but was steadfast in his refusal to allow it to shake his confidence. He had made a lunch appointment with one of his prospective clients who was across town and so there was no way they could have lunch in the Chinese restaurant next door. So Harry checked the yellow pages for Chinese Restaurants in the vicinity of the customers office and found one listed only a block and half away. When he suggested going there for lunch the other man agreed quite readily.
   Harrys relaxed attitude helped relax his customer and they had a very enjoyable lunch. Harry did not toy with his fortune cookie, but ignored it as long as possible as they continued their discussion, then casually cracked it open and smiled as he read his fortune: Success comes to the successful man. Harry nodded inwardly, thats right, success breeds success and Im for inbreeding. The other man did not bother with his fortune cookie, so when they got up to leave Harry surreptitiously picked it up and put it in his pocket. Just might come in handy.
   When Harry left the mans office 45 minutes later he had another large order. He called it in to his office then walked around for a short time until it was time to go to his next appointment. This one too went exactly as Harry knew it would—the other fortune cookie said it would—so that made two orders so far. Harry knew that sooner or later he would leave an office without a signed order, that was inevitable, but for now he was riding a hot streak and was going to give it all he had.
   He also knew that the fortune cookies did not really have anything to do with the sales, but he was not going to take any chances and so he continued with the candles in the morning and the Chinese restaurant in the afternoon.And business was good. It was great! As a matter of fact his sales were mounting so rapidly that it looked like he would be a shoe in for the salesman of the year award. And as the sales mounted so did his commissions and it was obvious that he would have to start looking for some sort of tax shelter. He smiled and grinned when he thought about it, not exactly a bad position to be in.
   Things continued going almost perfectly for several months. Even the people who did not give him an order were very favorably impressed, telling him they would keep him in mind if their situation ever changed. But eventually the inevitable fly came into the ointment and Harry had to find a way to get rid of the fly without throwing out the ointment. He became a victim of the Chinese restaurant syndrome.
   The first time it struck he ended up being late for an appointment but fortunately no harm was done and he survived the attack and got an order. At first, as he sat on the commode doubled up with cramps and sweat pouring from his pores, he knew he would have to stop going to the Chinese restaurant every afternoon. Then, after he returned with the order and relaxed in his office, he realized that he was being hasty. Its not that he was being superstitious you understand, but it just did not make sense to change a routine that was working so well.
   The following day convinced him. And though he knew that his sales did not depend upon his eating in a Chinese restaurant every day, he still tried to find some way of continuing to do so without getting sick. Or more specifically, to get the fortune cookie he needed—no, no, he didnt really need it, but… well, what the hell, everybody has some sort of good luck charm. Certainly no different than a rabbits foot. He shrugged inwardly, what the hell.
   The next day he went to a small Chinese food take-out store and took the fortune cookie out of the bag and dropped the rest in the first litter can, then went to lunch. He glowed with pride at his ingenuity and the ease with which he had solved the problem. Each day he went to the take-out stand and ordered a few items and threw them away after taking out the fortune cookie.
   One day he noticed a couple of girls from his office at the stand and continued walking, then came back ten minutes later, looking around carefully to make sure no one else from his office was there. Now when he left the office for lunch he glanced over his shoulder to be certain no one who knew him was in the vicinity, carefully looking around again before dropping the bag of food in a litter can as nonchalantly as possible, studying the sky and whistling as he hurried away.
   Soon the pressure of this routine started to create anxieties so he would eat lunch in the area first, then go to a take-out stand some distance from the office to get his fortune cookie.

   After much testing, and some trepidation, he found he could safely eat in a Chinese restaurant every fourth day without fear of an attack. And so he sampled the Chinese food from one end of town to the other. He was in Chinatown one day when he made a happy and astounding discovery: a store that sold fortune cookies by the bag. Now he truly had nothing to worry about.
   He kept a bag of cookies in his desk drawer and rationed them out to himself, one at a time. But then it started becoming a little difficult to understand some of the fortunes. Well, it wasnt that they were hard to understand exactly, it was just that they were ambiguous or simply did not apply to the immediate situation. So Harry was forced to open another… and another, until he found one that was pertinent to the day before going out on his appointments. Soon he had to buy bags by the dozen, wanting to be certain he did not run out, and when he left the office he was covered with cookie crumbs, the old anxiety giving him a slight twinge from time to time.
   One morning Harry was studying reports and getting together information to present to a prospective customer. This was an international corporation and if Harry could close this particular deal it would be the largest in his firms history and would open undreamed of vistas for the firm and for Harry. Among other things it would mean an appointment to the Corporate Staff.
   He had been working on it for six months, putting in endless hours and tremendous energy and creative imagination, and the final appointment, the yes or no appointment, was for tomorrow afternoon. He had everything together and was starting to review it again when he received a phone call advising him that his appointment for the following day would have to be cancelled, Mr. Ralston had to leave the country unexpectedly, and could Harry make the appointment for this afternoon at two, Mr. Ralston having no idea when he might be otherwise available.
   Harry quickly agreed and automatically reached into his drawer for a fortune cookie. He read the fortune, frowned and threw it away. Who needs that: He who hesitates is lost, but it is better to be lost than dead. What kind of nonsense is that? He opened another… and another and another, becoming increasingly anxious and annoyed. He had been bothered by the ambiguity of some of the previous fortunes, but now they were being downright negative. He reached for the last one and it too was the same. If he took the advice of the cookies he opened today he would go home and lock himself in a closet. Right now he wished he could do just that. He hated the idea of trying to close this deal feeling so nervous and negative. He frowned and looked at the pile of cookies and fortunes in his waste paper basket. What the hell was going on? Why was everything suddenly against him? Krist, he wished he could cancel the appointment! But if he did it would be all over. He would never get another chance. Not like this. He would not get the Corporate appointment. He had to see him today. But why was everything going wrong? He had lit his candles this morning. Why should this be happening to him? He looked through all his drawers for the third or fourth time hoping to find a stray fortune cookie, one that he had somehow overlooked, but to no avail. There just wasnt any left. He was completely out. And there was no way he could get anymore before going uptown. Unless he had an early lunch in the Chinese restaurant next door. He brightened, Yeah. Thats what I’ll do. Thats where it all started anyway. I’ll have a quick lunch and get uptown in plenty of time. He brushed the cookie crumbs from his suit and left his office.
   Something told him that he was not being too wise having lunch here today, having had lunch in a Chinese restaurant yesterday, but he was forced to dismiss the thought. He would be careful. He wouldnt eat much. He wouldnt take a chance on being victimized by the Chinese restaurant syndrome. Not today, and a faint voice way in the back of his head said: Famous last words.
   He ate the soup and a little of the chop suey and quickly grabbed the fortune cookie when the waiter brought it and crushed it and read the fortune, then stared at it: There are times when the wisest thing to do is nothing. He could not believe it. This was insane. He waved to the waiter and asked him if he could bring him another fortune cookie. He nodded and when he brought it Harry cracked it open and almost moaned aloud as he read the fortune. Another one. I must be dreaming. Somebody must be playing some sort of trick.
   He called the waiter again and asked for a dozen fortune cookies. The waiter looked at him for many seconds, Harry said excitedly that he would pay for them, breaking into a forced smile and explaining that it was for a joke. Eventually the waiter shrugged and brought another dozen fortune cookies. Harry stared at them for a moment, the waiter glancing at him from time to time, talking to the other waiters, then shrugging and shaking his head. Harry took a deep breath and relaxed as best he could and got ready to open the first one, girding his loins as if he were about to dive off a hundred foot tower into a tank of water through flaming oil. He opened the first one, read it quickly, tossed it aside and went to the next, repeating the same routine, his knot of anxiety growing with each one, becoming more and more sick, until he had opened them all (all the waiters were watching by this time, scratching their heads) and he sat staring at the pile of broken cookies and crumpled fortunes. Harry was on the verge of tears. He could not believe this was happening to him. All the way to the very brink of something great and then the entire world suddenly turns on him. He hadnt done anything to anyone. He lit his candles every morning. Why should this happen to him? It wasn't fair. Goddam it, it wasnt fair! Im not going to put up with it! I’ll be damned if I will! NO!!!! He spoke the last word aloud as he brought his fist down, hard and loud on a pile of broken cookies, the plates and little bottles jumping and clanging, people suddenly silent, sitting still, forks suspended in air, looking first at each other, then turning around to find the source of the disturbance; the waiters too stopping in mid-motion, looking at Harry and blinking as Harry ground his hand into the cookies and shouted, Im not going to put up with it! Thats it! Harry continued to mutter to himself as he paid his bill, unaware that everyone was staring at him, commenting that he was as mad as a hatter

   Harry was full of energy when he entered Mr. Ralstons office. The first thing Mr. Ralston did was to inform Harry that he was very busy and did not have time for superfluities. That was just fine with Harry as he was well prepared and wanted to get on with it too. He presented all the figures quickly, giving Mr. Ralston a copy of everything, noting the salient points, answering all questions easily and succinctly and when the meeting was concluded he left Mr. Ralstons office with the order.
   When he got back Harry went directly to his office and plunked himself in his chair. By now his body was wet with perspiration and his insides were a turmoil of confusion and disbelief. He had the signed order right here but the fact seemed to be somewhere outside him. He knew it was real but it did not seem to have any pertinence to him, and the reality of the entire situation became increasingly vague the more he pondered it because he just could not believe it happened. How did it all come about? He could barely remember being in Mr. Ralstons office. He thought and thought and simply ended up increasing his confusion.
   And what made it even more perplexing was the fact that he knew this would change his life. Every aspect of it. A house in Connecticut with trees and a garden. A summer place in Marthas Vineyard. Cars. A boat. Yeah… maybe a forty foot sloop and he would sail before the wind feeling the spray and breeze on his face…
   But he would be functioning on the Corporate level now….
   The thought was frightening. How could he possibly function on that level? How could he possibly make a speech before the Board of Directors (the mere thought sent tremors through his mind and body) giving them progress reports… advising them of projected sales… O krist, thats right. I’d have to continue making deals like this. I’d have a position to maintain! How could I do it? This one was a fluke. Theres no way I can do this again… Jesus, the Board wouldnt be satisfied for long theyd want it done again and again and again…
   O God, I cant do it. I could never take the pressure—he glanced at the pile of broken fortune cookies in his wastepaperbasket—I wouldnt know what to do. Being a salesman is one thing, but Corporate Staff… the responsibility…
   and he’d be stuck with the house in Connecticut and the summer place in Marthas Vineyard and the boat and cars… O God, no… no…
   He felt icy cold and shivered as panic twisted itself through then around him, squeezing him tighter and tighter, making it almost impossible to breathe… He struggled to gulp air into his lungs, then leaned forward and rested his elbows on his desk and held his head, sinking deeper and deeper into his despair…
   Then he noticed something in the newspaper on his desk At first it was a blur but something forced his attention to that area and he found he could not move his gaze away from it. He blinked his eyes until his vision cleared and he realized he was staring at the daily horoscope, his horoscope for today: Today is the day to assert yourself. Great opportunities are yours if you just take the bull by the horns. Dont take no for an answer. He read it over… then again… at first just the words got through, and then their meaning, his body becoming more and more erect as he read, his face relaxing into a smile…
   then he slammed his hand down, hard, on the paper and jumped to his feet, Of course! Thats it! I knew it! I just knew it! I knew today was my day!!!! Thank God Im not superstitious or I might have let those damn cookies ruin my life. Now I know how to do it—tapping the paper—right there all the time. Haha, theres no way I can be stopped now! He snatched the signed contract from his desk and went to the Executive Wing to advise the President in person that he had wrapped up the deal. After all, he may just as well start getting used to his new neighborhood!!!!

A Penny for Your Thoughts

   He didnt think of her breasts at first. He simply noticed how attractive she was. And too it was extremely unusual to see a young girl without makeup. She probably was no more than 18. He was waiting for the subway after work and she was standing among the crowd with a few friends. She wore a black coat and a black kerchief. Her skin appeared very white and her eyes were dark and sparkled. He kept glancing at her. He stood near them on the train and was surprised when they got off at his stop. He walked slowly and tried to listen to their conversation, but the only thing he heard distinctly was her name: Marie. A block from the station she said goodbye to her friends and turned along the avenue and he continued home.
   The next morning he saw her on the station. He stood near her trying to determine the color of her eyes, but couldnt (at least not without being obvious) and was amazed again at her natural beauty, not glamorous, but quiet, exciting. They got off at DeKalb Avenue and he walked slowly up the stairs behind her and her girl-friends hoping he might see a bit more of her legs, but she held her coat tightly around her and with straining and falling behind as she climbed the stairs he was still only able to see her calves. They were very attractive though. Even with those flat slippertype shoes on. She turned at the exit and walked off in a different direction than the one he had to take, so he stood for a moment watching… then turned and went to his office.
   He didnt see her that night on the platform. He looked around and had almost convinced himself that he should wait for another train, one that would be less crowded, but there was an area that was big enough for 3 or 4 people and the train remained there for a few seconds with the doors open and he felt guilty and conspicuous standing there when there was all that room and suppose someone he knew should ask him what he was waiting for or what if there should be some kind of a police investigation for some reason what could he say? And there are witnesses to prove there was room in the train—he stepped forward quickly just before the door closed.
   After dinner he stretched out on the couch and tried to conjure up an image of Marie. All he could see was a vague outline, his wifes voice making it impossible to flesh out the image. He stopped trying and got up from the couch, went out to the kitchen and helped his wife with the dishes, his wife surprised, but saying nothing.
   About 10 oclock he said he was going to bed as he was bushed from the extra work in the office and was relieved when his wife said, no, she wouldnt come to bed now, but would finish the ironing first. He lay in bed and thought of Marie. He thought of her dressed in a beautiful tight sheath with dark stockings, but the image continually blurred. He had never seen her with her overcoat off and without a kerchief around her head. Actually he didnt have the slightest idea of what her body looked like, only what he assumed from looking at her legs and face. She obviously wasnt fat, but he still didnt know exactly how she looked. How about her tits? She might be flatchested.… Cant really tell with that overcoat. NO NO! She must have a nice pair. Large and firm. Sure… She must…
   He ate breakfast just a little faster the next morning wanting to be certain to get to the station in time to get the train she always took, but not too fast so his wife wouldnt ask questions. Marie was there on the platform and he got on the train with her and her friends and rode to work trying not to stare, but listening to her voice and watching from the side of his eye and hoping her coat would fall open when she reached up to adjust her kerchief, but it didnt. While still watching her coat and hoping, he looked at her face and noticed the small blemish on her right cheek, but it didnt bother him. It didnt affect her beauty. And anyway it was just a small spot. Probably temporary and nothing that would scar her skin. He did wish that she didnt go to work with her hair in curlers, though she does look much prettier than Alice with her hair set. Actually it was only the front she kept set. The back hung loose. It was long, wavy and very pretty. If she put something on it to make it blacker and shinier it would really be something, but it was very nice the way it was. Really nicer than Alices, but that was something else. He was just curious about this girl. She must be 10 years younger than him. It's just that shes unusually attractive. Good Lord, cant a guy look at a girl and find her attractive without something being made of it. Alice certainly wouldnt mind… It was their stop and they got off and he turned looking once more, then went to work.
   When he mentioned the girl he saw on the platform to Alice he tried to do so with an in passing attitude, but he wanted to be certain he didnt overdo it. He was sure she didnt think twice about it as the conversation drifted to a natural tangent after he mentioned how attractive this girl was and it was a shame she didnt put her makeup on properly instead of smearing it all over. You know how these kids do it, and then they were talking about high school or something and he felt better, much better. Now when he thought about Marie he wouldnt feel guilty. And anyway, why should he?

   He saw her every day, twice, for the next 4 days and he watched her the whole time from the moment he saw her on the platform until they parted at 3rd Avenue… still he didnt see them. And this was January. So long before spring and lighter coats that would be allowed to fall open and so much longer to summer when only dresses and blouses were worn– and he stared and stared… Hello. I hope you dont think Im too forward, but Ive seen you every day for quite some time now and I am sure you have noticed that I have been staring at you. I suppose it is a little unusual to just speak to a girl on the subway like this, but it is just that you are so attractive–a train came in and they got in and he tried to reach her, but couldnt get through the crowd or continue his imagined conversation; and then the train stopped and he got off and stayed a few feet behind and watched her and tried to go back to where they were on the platform and he was telling her how beautiful she is and she was about to smile (shyly perhaps) and tell him he was right, that she had noticed him looking at her and he would be able to understand (from her tone and attitude) that she was flattered—but he couldnt get back there and whenever he tried to isolate just them, alone, he suddenly tried to remember the color of Alices eyes. He tried pushing the thought from his mind, shoving it away with his hand, but there was felt no resistance and it just flowed around like an amoeba, an enormous amoeba; he tried gripping it; kicking it; dragging it; but the thought just floated and flowed. He even closed his eyes for a moment as he stood on a corner waiting for the light to change, but the thought wouldnt move so he stopped trying to keep it out of his mind and conjuring up his wifes eyes it slowly disappeared; then he tried to make his wifes eyes bigger and bigger so he could see what color they were, but he failed. It was impossible. But they must be blue. Shes so fair. They must be. They have to be. Blue Blue BLUE!!! Still he couldnt believe they were. But that doesnt mean anything. You know yourself how you forget things like that. But Maries eyes are brown. A deep dark brown. And they sparkle. Dont they? But thats different. How can you doubt I love Alice? I really know the color of her eyes. Its just trying to force it like this. Thats why I cant remember….
   Hello sweetheart. He bent and kissed Alices hair (of course theyre green. Its ridiculous. I knew) and asked her whats for supper.
   He went to bed early again, giving some excuse about not feeling well, smoked a few cigarettes and thought of her. He wondered what would happen if he werent married, not that Im not happy after 4 years of marriage or anything, you know, but I just wonder. Academically so to speak. Id have a car of course -but I wouldnt be living here and would never have seen her anyway—have to start again. I live here—he put the cigarette out and rolled over on his side dismissing all the meaningless things that were ruining his thoughts. He was single and he had an apartment of his own near Fort Hamilton with a nice hi-fi, indirect lighting and even a small bar (Id have the money) and he knew her from work and they went out and stopped at his apartment for a nightcap—maybe they went to the Casino or some place on the Island—and he put on the radio and played soft music and when he gave her her drink he held her hand and kissed her and he slowly began to undress her and she was bashful and flushed slightly and he kissed her and reassured her and told her he loved her and she grabbed him and kissed him hard and he led her, gently, to the bedroom and they lay down and he felt her skirt under his fingertips and he played with her skirt for a few moments then the smoothness of her thigh and she turned, sighing, and the train came in and he held up his hand and pushed at it and tried to punch the hundreds of motormen, but it ran right through the room and through the bed and he held her and whispered, still trying to push the train, and all those damn people were walking by… O Goddam it! he slammed the door! slammed it again and again and again, running back to her and kissing her and slamming the door again, I love you, I LOVE YOU, frantically trying to unbutton her blouse and a large trailer truck went by and he struggled to get her blouse off and Alice asked him if he felt alright, Youre turning and tossing so much. Are you sure you feel alright honey? and he turned and mumbled something and lit another cigarette and she continued to talk as she undressed and he nodded and mumbled and smoked, hoping he hadnt blurted out something, and anyway its not like it was real and he didnt love Alice… o well… But its not really wrong. This is not at all like those guys who have girlfriends on the side. This is something different. Ive never been untrue to Alice. I even told Alice about her—goodnight sweetheart—Alice reached up and pulled the cord and the room was dark again and he put out his cigarette and tried to keep his mind blank, not wanting to fall asleep thinking about her and perhaps say something in his sleep… He couldnt get her out of his mind and kept waking with a start, listening for something and when he awoke about 3 or 4 he was so excited he tried waking Alice, but she didnt awaken when he touched her lightly so he stopped trying, afraid he might say something with his excitement and sleepiness, so he just lit another cigarette and thought about work or something… anything, until he felt calmer, then put out the cigarette and finally fell asleep.
   He was exhausted in the morning and he told Alice to call the office and tell them he wouldnt be in, that he wasnt feeling well. He told her he might be getting the virus and thought it better to take it easy for a day or two than take a chance on getting sick. He stayed in bed all that day and the next, which was Friday, and just lolled around most of the weekend. On Monday he said he felt better and Alice suggested he wait an hour before going to work in order to avoid the rush hour, but he said that was ridiculous. Theres no need for any such thing. I can go at the regular time. Alice was stunned by his brisk manner and stared for a moment, then continued setting the table when he lowered his eyes.

   He rushed to the station and didnt slow down until he saw Marie at the end of the platform. It seemed as if weeks had passed since he stood on the platform next to her and he was certain she had been aware of his long absence and probably wanted to talk to him. There certainly wouldnt be any harm in speaking to her -the train came in and it was unusually crowded and he pushed his way in and Marie and her girlfriends just did get in, the door hitting one girlfriend on the shoulder, and they screeched slightly at the difficulty and he smiled and almost spoke, but caught himself—yes, yes of course. Alices eyes are green and her hair is cut in a sortofa d.a. More people got on at the next stop and he was jabbed against her side and he thought it would be easy to simply let his arm rub against her breast or he could lower his hand and the next time there was a push his hand would rub against her ass and he looked and looked but he couldnt see. Incredible, but he still couldnt see. Still didnt know if she had a big pair or not. Not that that mattered either. Just a case of curiosity. No, no. Nothing like that. Dont be silly. I wouldnt really do it. Would be easy enough though. Especially in a crowd like this. It really would be an accident. But if I could just see how big they are. I mean….
   There seemed to be no way he could find out. Would he have to wait until spring or even summer? It was ridiculous. Why in the name of Krist didnt she stop clutching her coat. It isnt that cold. She could let the goddam thing open in the subway. It was warm enough. If only it was a tight one, a fitted coat, then at least there would be an outline to see and allowing for the thickness of the coat you would have some idea of just how big her tits are. He didnt expect them to be gigantic (theres nothing wrong with Alices. Theyre not too small. Ive said that before. I dont really mind. That has nothing to do with it) just large and firm. She seemed to have nice wide hips. If she has a slim waist and a big pair… all white and smooth and when she lays on her back theyd probably fall to the side slightly and her nipples will probably be rosy… and the trains and people and trucks kept forcing him away from her and they parted at 3rd Avenue each night and he thought about it in bed, 4, 5 maybe more times he thought of waking Alice in the middle of the night, but he smoked, turned on his side and his thighs cramped and his stomach twinged… and he kept looking and looking and they parted at the corner each morning after the light changed and she clutched that goddam coat and he looked and looked and he couldnt see and he didnt sleep and he was always keyedup and tensed and Alice knew it was the job and she didnt want to let him know she was upset worrying about him so she tried to ignore it and talked to him during mealtimes so he would relax enough to eat (he really wasnt eating much lately and lost weight) and she smiled and tried to be casual when asking him about work and his evasiveness confirmed her thoughts about the job fraying his nerves and still he looked and looked and Alice worried and he continued to lose weight and she thought of suggesting a visit to the doctor, but was still fearful of seeming alarmed and didnt want to upset him so after supper she suggested a movie. Its Friday and theres a good feature playing tonight. Its supposed to be very funny and you know how hard youve been working lately honey. Yeah, I guess I have, not knowing what she was talking about, but afraid to ask. It might relax you to sit in a movie. He nodded and they went to the movie and he sat watching and smoking and then he started chuckling, then laughing and he relaxed and stretched out his legs and Alice leaned against him and held his arm and glanced at him occasionally, and they laughed.
   And then Marie was standing in the aisle, in front of him, looking up at the rear of the balcony and then seeing her friends she smiled and walked past him, up the aisle. At first he was a little surprised, but of course there was no reason why she shouldnt go to this movie. Then, of course, when she started to open her coat he tried to see her tits, but couldn't. All he could make out was that she was wearing a black sweater. And her hair wasnt straight and looked nice in the darkness of the movie. Then she was gone. Sitting somewhere behind him. He wondered if she noticed him. Dont imagine she saw the ring on Alices hand. Might be alright if she knew. Married men are more attractive to some women.
   He concentrated on the movie, laughing and whispering to Alice and then Marie walked by with another girl. He really didnt notice until she had passed and was on her way down the stairs. He continued watching the movie but watched the staircase from the side of his eye. He felt his muscles tensing and made an effort to relax. He didnt want Alice to get any ideas. He fought his muscles. Watched the movie. The staircase. 15 maybe 20 minutes. He thought perhaps she had left. But of course that was silly. She just got here. And anyway, he did notice that she wasnt wearing her coat. He waited. And waited. Finally he heard their voices and they came to the top of the staircase, stood for a moment then walked past him and up the aisle. He looked, but the railing in front of him was on a level with her chest as she walked by and he was too amazed to try to look as they walked past him up the aisle. It was fantastic. Unbelievable. All he wanted to do was see how big her goddam tits were and this railings in the way. Howinthehell…

   Maybe theyll come by again. If we were sitting back a row. How could I ask Alice to move. I insisted on sitting here to stretch out my legs. There might be something I could say. Better not. She might think it strange. Theyll come by again and when they go up the aisle I’ll be able to see. Maybe I should tell Alice thats the girl I told her about. She may have noticed me staring No, I dont think so. A good kid that Alice. He looked at Alice and smiled and she smiled back and asked how he liked the show and he said good. Very good. Her smile broadened and she squeezed his arm and he waited for Marie to go by again trying to look behind him but they were all the way up and he couldnt see that far without turning completely around and looking deliberately and being obvious. He just sat, smoked, watched the movie and waited. He heard faint footsteps and voices and 3 girls passed and went down the stairs and Marie was one of them. He sat up higher in his seat and started turning his head slowly toward the aisle and adjusting his eyes, testing to see how large an area he could see without moving his head too far. He reached a point where he could see more than necessary while still, apparently, looking at the screen. He froze himself in the position and waited. His neck muscles started to stiffen and his eyes burned but he didnt move. He closed his eyes briefly then opened them and waited. When she came by he wouldnt have to move and he would see…
   Then Alice tugged at his arm and pulled him toward her slightly. Would you go down and get me a pack of cigarettes honey. Im all out. He glared for a moment (after spending all that time getting ready and she might come at any minute) and almost yelled at her to get her own damn cigarettes. You should have made sure you had enough before we got here, but then he thought perhaps they arent in the Ladies Room and are downstairs at the candy counter. He mumbled a quick o.k. and dashed down the stairs to the candystand. They were standing around a soda machine talking. He bought the cigarettes then stood to one side and looked at them. She did have a nice pair. Not gigantic, just right. And her waist was beautifully slim and when she turned he could see that they were firm, really firm, and not just held up with a brassiere. Of course they might hang a little without a brassiere. Thats only natural. But they wouldnt sag. And her mouth was lovely. O, I bet she'd bite. Her thighs must be so smooth…
   The girls dropped their cups in the bucket and started walking toward him. He turned and climbed the stairs two at a time and dropped back in his seat and handed the cigarettes to his wife, trying to breathe normally, and fixed his eyes on the proper spot. He sat and waited and when they climbed the stairs to their seats he watched them bounce -just slightly—and she passed so close he could smell the soap she had washed with and he could reach out and pat her ass. He stretched out and lit a cigarette and struggled with a conductor, a train and an usher that kept coming through the room but he kept closing doors and pulling down shades and she was naked on the bed and he kissed her and he turned in his seat and sat up and crossed his legs and was motionless and without thought for just a second then put his arm around Alice and rubbed his nose against her ear. She looked at him and smiled, kissed his cheek and snuggled closer to him and rubbed his arm, singing inside at seeing him relaxed and smiling and loving the way he caressed her cheek. She lifted his hand to her lips and kissed his fingertips. He put his arm around her, kissed her neck and said lets go home. But we havent seen the cartoons silly. I know hon, but lets go anyway. I want to talk to you. He caressed her neck with the tips of his fingers and looked into her eyes. Ah Harry, dont. Please dont. You know I cant do anything now.
   He dropped his hands and stared at her for a moment then slammed back into his seat. O for Krist sake. Whats wrong Harry? Nothings wrong, goddam it. Nothing. Why don't you just leave me alone…

Liebesnacht

   I dont want to talk about it anymore Harry.
   What do you mean you dont want to talk about it anymore? Just like that the discussions over, wham, goodbye?
   Her expression was stiff; her body as rigid as her attitude. She held the phone a few inches from her mouth and closed her eyes slightly and looked across the room at the wall and spoke very matter-of-factly. I see no reason to continue talking. You absolutely refuse to see my point of view and are unreasonably arbitrary about having your own way.
   His eyes snapped open as wide as possible and he twisted and turned and paced back and forth as his arms flew in all directions forcing him to almost pursue the phone from time to time to be sure he could be heard. My way? Whatta you talking about? Ive taken you to see Star Wars twice already and now youre bugged because I dont want to see it again tonight. How in the hell does that make me arbitrary? Im willing to do anything you -
   You see—her expression frozen in sternness—there you go again, trying to put the blame on me, trying to -
   Blame, blame—he spun around and leaned so far back that he was looking at the ceiling over the mouthpiece of the phone -whats this blame? Im not looking for blame. Im just trying -
   Youre just trying to make me feel like a fool for wanting to see the -
   No no, I dont care how many times you see the goddam flick, I just want to take you -
   You dont have to swear at me just to prove youre a man.
   Prove Im a man?—shaking his head and rolling his eyes—all I wanted to do was take you to a party and you come on with this crazy bullshit about Star Wars and -
   O now Im crazy. Thank you. Thanks a lot. Whats the matter, I attack your male ego?
   I dont believe this—slapping his head—I dont believe it. Having the rag on is one thing but this is ridic-
   Thats right, lets hide behind that and try and make me feel guilty or ridiculous or -
   Holy Krist, every time I talk to you lately its the same thing, the same nonsense.
   O now its nonsense if I dont want to constantly give in to you and your whims -
   Whims? What kind of whims? I just want to take you to a party and you -
   Harry, I dont want to talk about it further. You absolutely refuse to see my point of view.
   Refuse to—CLICK—What? What?—staring at the phone, holding it at arms length—whatta ya doin? Youre out ya head you crazy bitch, you… you… ah, who needsya. He slammed the receiver on the cradle and then slammed the phone on the table and left the house.
   He stomped his way up the street trying to pound his anger into the pavement, clenching and unclenching his jaw and fists, shaking his head and almost yelling out loud as his head continued the battle, trying to force a semblance of sense into Marys head with the sheer energy of his anger because it didnt make any sense. No matter how you slice it it just doesnt make any sense. She must have some kindda bug up her ass. I call and ask her if she wants to go out to dinner before the party and she suddenly says she doesnt want to go—his mind assumed a falsetto voice—I want to see Star Wars. I mean whats with this Star Wars? and whats with all this contrary shit lately? starting arguments over nothing. Make a date and then cancelling at the last minute or complaining about where we go and what we do after I ask what do you want to do???? If you dont like this and you dont like that then what in the hell do you wanna do?—the falsetto again—O you decide Harry. I cant make up my mind. Yeah, an everything I decide is no good. We go to a restaurant and all of a sudden the lighting is no good. The lighting, right? Who cares about the food? all of a sudden its the lights that are important. You hungry go to Nathans, they got nice lights. We go to Fire Island for a weekend and its too far to the beach. Can you believe it? Too far to the beach!!!! The whole fucking island is only 3 feet wide and its nothing but beach. Its crazy, crazy. I dont get it. All she wants to do is break my balls—falsetto squeaks in—If I break them its because you put them on the chopping block for me. Harry started waving his hand then selfconsciously stopped and jammed it in his pocket. Eh, who needs it. I need this like I need a hole in the head. I must be crazy to bug myself over that broad. How did I ever get hooked into her anyway???? Forget it. Who needs it. Almost a year. One broad. I must be nuts. Harry quickened his pace even more to outdistance any reply his mind might make, falsetto or otherwise, and continued to try to outdistance his head as he automatically eased his way between the traffic as he crossed the avenue, then started to slow his pace as he neared STEVES, a neighborhood bar where his friends hung out.
   It wasnt until he stopped, just inside the door, and felt the wave of cool air that he realized he was hot and flushed. He suddenly became aware of the sweat rolling down his sides and back and burning his eyes. He wiped his face quickly with his handkerchief as he looked around for a second, then walked toward his friends.
   Hey Harry, whatta you doin here?
   Whatta ya say Ron—he looked at Larry and Kelly—whats happening? Larry shrugged, Wanna beer? Sure, why not. Larry leaned over the bar, Hey Bob, give lover boy a beer. They all chuckled.
   Kelly drained his glass and put it on the bar, May just as well put a head on this. He turned to Harry, How come youre here? Its—squinting at the clock on the wall—about 8:03 and its Saturday night.
   Yeah, wheres Mary?

   Harry tossed his head back, Eh, forget it.
   What happened man, she split?
   Dont ask. You wouldnt believe it—Harry grabbed his glass and gulped half of it and sighed as he put it down.—Krist thats good. I didnt realize how thirsty I was. He finished his beer and put some money on the bar, Hey Bob, giveus another round.
   The door opened and Wally, Artie and Matt came in and stopped halfway down the bar. Harry barely noticed them out of the corner of his eye, and then Wally put his hands on the bar and Harry frowned and turned his head and looked at the cast on Wallys thumb and around his wrist and the wire going across the tips of his fingers. What happened to Wally?
   O man, it was somethin else. His brother.
   Mikey no legs?
   Yeah. Drunk outta his mind. You know how he gets.
   Yeah—nodding his head.
   It happened just a coupla hours ago. No legs comes in an hes bouncin off the walls and knockin people all over and Wally tries to takeim outside and Mike is blitherin about the Nuns and arithmetic—they all start chuckling and nodding their heads -You know, when he goes off he goes off. He dont know nobody.
   Yeah you aint kiddin. Hes really fuckin crazy when hes bombed.
   So he suddenly grabs Wallys thumb and just bends it back, real quick, and you could hear it snap a block away.
   It was really weird because he looked like he was pushin down on a lever or somethin. I mean you could see that he didnt know what he was doin.
   Or who Wally was. Just a quick snap. And he just walks out and Wally and Matt and Artie are staring at Wallys thumb, an then everybody in the joint is staring at it until Bob pours him a good stiff shot and after he drinks it Wally almost falls on his ass. He grabs his wrist and starts rockin back and forth and Matty runs out and grabs a cab and they went down to the emergency.
   I guess it wasnt too crowded, they got back pretty fast. At least for that joint.
   Yeah, well its early yet. The night is young. And youre so beautiful. Kelly pinched Larrys cheek and they all chuckled and reached for their beers.
   Mikey no legs was in the cellar of his apartment building. His parents had lived there for 10 years before he was born, and for 5 years before Wally was born. And they lived there still. The four of them. And they were still the supers, a job that was much easier since the furnace was converted to oil quite a few years ago: no coal to shovel, no ashes to carry out, no fire to shake and bank and worry about. But there was still the garbage cans to put out, a job Mike had been doing for almost 20 of the 28 years of his life.
   Mike started by helping Wally with the cans, always wanting to follow his big brother. He idolized Wally and begged him to let him help with the cans, and he did. At first Wally took most of the weight, patting his brother on the back and telling him he was a real good helper. Then Mike was taking one up all by himself, tugging on the handle as the can banged against the stone steps. Eventually he was able to pick up the can and carry it up the steps, and then with the passing of a few more years, he simply picked up one in each hand and almost ran them up the stairs.
   The same occurred with the much heavier cans of ashes, Mike developing incredible strength.
   Now there were no ashes. But they were still the supers and Mike carried the garbage cans up the same immortal steps only slightly worn by cans and shoes.
   Although he was called no legs, it was not an accurate description. It was simply that he had a large barrel chest that carrying the cans had made even larger, and his legs appeared too short for his body.
   He wasnt exceptionally violent or quiet, just sort of unobtrusively there, except when he got crazy drunk. Fortunately he only got drunk periodically, and then it was only occasionally that he got violent, when some twisted message tripped through his drunken body to his brain and voices burned his head and he couldnt scream them quiet, and, from time to time, things would appear either without or within his head that he had to defend himself against.
   Mike sat on the floor leaning against the wooden wall of a storage room, a bottle of wine on the floor beside him and a small transistor radio. From time to time he would take a drink, then turn the dial from one end of the band to the other trying to find the ballgame. He knew there was one somewhere, but where???? He looked at the radio, his head swaying back and forth, eyes half closed, barely able to see the radio in the dimness of the cellar, Where are ya ya son of a bitch? Eh? Wheres those fuckin Mets? He continued spinning the dial eliding from one station to another, one song to another, one announcer to another, the rock rolling into the pop as his finger continued pushing the small wheel and suddenly a soprano screeched and he twisted the radio, Shut up bitch. He squeezed the radio and pulled his hand back, but then lowered it slowly and put the radio back on the ground. Fuck it. Who needs this shit. He took another drink of wine then slowly curled onto the floor, pillowing his head on an arm, and slept.
   The game was on in STEVES and the guys at the bar looked at it from time to time. Harry and his friends decided they would chugalug a beer every time there was a double play or a home run. After two innings of neither one they extended it to include strike outs, stolen bases, runners caught trying to steal, bases on balls, scoreless half innings, and every third out. After six innings they also included the seventh inning stretch. Half an hour after the game ended, they had forgotten the score and werent too certain who won or who had played.

   To Harry it seemed like the best game he had ever seen. He couldnt remember when he had laughed so much or so hard. The Mets were always good for a laugh, but tonight was something special. He felt loose, relaxed. He hadnt realized it until now, but this was exactly what he needed, a night out with the boys… drinking beer, watching a ball game, swapping stories and having some good laughs. He was feeling good… great. He staggered slightly, but only for a second, when he pushed himself away from the bar and started toward the mens room… again. One thing about that fuckin beer, it sure goes through you. He slowly worked his way to the mens room and leaned against the wall and looked down at the cake of ice in the urinal. The flushometer never worked and so everyone in STEVES indulged in the art of ice writing. He had started to carve his initials on his previous trips but his efforts had been obliterated by others who had no respect for his artistic endeavors and were happy to just piss indiscriminately on the ice while sighing, Ahhh, this is the pause that refreshes; or just trying to cut the piece in half (half a piece is better than none, hahaha) or just chip away at an edge. No class. No fucking class. Harry was determined that he would carve at least one clear, clean, recognizable H in the ice before the night was over and so, although there was a pressured urgency to his need to urinate, he squeezed his joint so just a thin stream of urine came out and carefully carved an almost near perfect (to him) H in the ice, still leaning against the wall with one hand and ignoring the splashing and splattering. When he finished he leaned back and looked with satisfaction at his initial and started to shake the final drops but stopped and moved so they would not fall on the results of his work and directed them to the corner of the urinal, a series of elipses going directly down the drain, not passing Go, not collecting two hundred dollars. He zipped his fly and stood swaying slightly in front of the urinal, smiling and nodding to the compliments he was hearing in his head. He wished he had a Polaroid camera so he could take a picture of it. Never see it again. Nobody’d believe it. Between the heat and all those assholes pissin all over it it wont be here long. Maybe he should just stay here and watch it slowly melt and stand in front of the urinal so nobody else could fuck it up. Naaa… shit, that aint no good. Anyway, Im fuckin thirsty an—
   Ya finished?
   Yeah. Harry took another few steps back.
   Thank Krist. I gotta piss like a bandit.He sighed as there was a sudden flood of urine on the rocks, Ahhhhh, the pause that refreshes.
   Harry stood for a moment, then blinked and shrugged and left, Dont get ya feet wet.
   Yeah, hahahaha.
   A fresh beer was waiting for Harry when he rejoined his friends. Comeon Harry, chugalug.
   What for this time?
   Who the fuck knows.
   They chuckled and laughed, then controlled it just enough to drain their glasses, Harry having visions of a beautiful gothic H engraved in the ice.
   Mike stirred, twisted his body, his head, then slowly sat up and looked around the darkened cellar, unable to see more than a foot or two away. He carefully moved his hand along the floor until he found his bottle, then picked it up. He tried to look at it but could see nothing of the contents so he shook it slightly and was relieved and happy to hear something splashing around inside. He took a long drink and closed his eyes and concentrated on the warm glow spreading within him, and smiled because he knew there was at least one good drink in the bottle, maybe more. He licked his lips and took another drink and when that had settled in he finished off the few remaining drops. He leaned against the wall as the wine continued on its journey and slowly a few things clicked into place. He knew where he was. He didnt have to be able to see to know he was in the cellar. He sat quietly for a few minutes listening to the sounds of the street, the sounds telling him that it wasnt too late, there were still people walking and talking so the bars must still be open. He jammed his hand in his pocket and felt some money. Thank Krist. He rubbed his head and his face. Must still be Saturday. Probably Saturday night. Yeah. Must be. Hope the fuck the bars are still open. He slowly stood up, leaning against the wooden wall, tested his legs, then paced himself to the stairs, feeling his way through the dark, able to walk just as freely and rapidly in the dark as in daylight, having spent so many hours, and having made so many trips, from where he was to the stairs that led to the street. Faint light from the street lamp near the top of the stairs cast a slanted shadow across the sidewalk and he stood at the top of the stairs for a moment, blinking, looking around, seeing lights on in most of the houses and feeling secure that there was still time to have fun.
   He rotated his shoulders a few times as if loosening them up from heavy work, or getting ready for it, then started walking down the street, his pace quickening as he felt steadier on his feet.
   Kelly was squinting slightly as he spoke to Harry, One thing you cant do is let a broad break ya balls—everyone was nodding -Thats right man. Ya gotta keepem in their place or they’ll shove it in and break it off.
   Yeah, yeah, I know man—they were all unsteady on their feet and leaned heavily against the bar for support while trying to look nonchalant—gettin laid aint worth all that bullshit.
   Ya goddamn right. Ya gotta letem know whos the fuckin boss—they were nodding wisely—hey, I aint bullshittin man—I know man. Im right withya Larry—they start comin on with that, do it my way or else, bullshit an ya gotta givem their walkin papers.
   Hey, right on man. Take it from me, ya either slapem down or cutem loose.
   Harry straightened as much as possible while still supporting himself on the bar and looking cool, Hey, I tolder where to shove her bullshit—shaking his head—I dont understand why shes runnin these fuckin games down all of a sudden.
   O man, you know how these fuckin broads are, shes probably ballin some other cat but wants to keep you around in case it dont work out—they all nodded very wisely