Abe Vigoda's envelope

There were whispers. On my ear hung a clinging truth: That tonight would yield a visit from the Mid-town Magi, in an undisclosed form. We finished the obviously piano-sized drinks at the BBQ eatery, only to decide that more would not be less. We skated through the revolving door, greeted by the crisp autumn breeze. Downtown bound. We cage fought with our musings; using half-nelson's of diatribe, and suplex's of supposition.

In between gnashing at the rim of our Sapporo deuce-deuce's, we detected that we were being tailed. We ducked into an inlet of stairs and rails, tucked inside the crotch of a building. The ashen pavement, still thick with the sweat caused by sister sun's departure, gleamed like distant a headlamp in the alabaster glow of the streetlight. Covered in the sheets of sound emanating from the avenue, footfalls presented themselves. They clod and clamored at the sidewalk. In them you could hear history. Of red carpet, pauses for pictures and questions, the pull of the arm urging them to enter some black tie event.


Visibly shaken, we both started to feel cold. A thin veneer covered our eyes, gone misty like maternal movie pairings of menstruation and "Terms of Endearment." We started to shed tears. Enough to fill half of my favorite snowglobes. And then, there in front of us on 72nd in between Lex and 3rd, in a somber midnight procession, was Abe Vigoda. We had entered his envelope. Behind him a cloud of shapes followed. Apparitions of Inuit shaman carried a 12 foot totem pole, emblazoned with the faces of the fallen: Raul Julia, Ruth Buzzy, Siskel. Me and my company started to rise, and almost joined the slow dirge marching to some hideous unheard drum. I scrambled for the last real object I had; my Sapporo Deuce. I threw it into the air. Explosions of Asian celebratory dragons sparked through the space between us, illuminating the avenue like a second Venus.

In a glimpse, it had all ended. Abe Vigoda scooted across Lexington. Billows of steam surrounded his exit, as the 6 train blew towards 77th. We had never before, or again been in his dominion. But good luck does not surround the unprepared. We had Sapporo Deuce happy-sureheadedness on our side. However to the unaware, Vigoda's envelope can be quite treacherous.