A Two Gallon Gas Can

I was carrying a two gallon gas can up First Avenue at about one AM on Sunday. Technically Monday. A woman walked by me and said "that's weird" to the man by her side.

That came exactly three seconds after I decided to pretend I was going to go burn something down. I feel like it made what I was doing a little less embarrassing and a little more colorful.

Jilted lover wasn't powerful enough. Too sappy for that late hour in the Village. Besides, the weather was too nice.

I think that's a good one if you live in Arkansas. Jilted Lovers should do other things in New York City. Like pose naked with their Ex's Mother and post them on the Internet.

That's what the clever folks of New York are capable of pulling off. (It's why I haven't left yet.)Biting irony in their revenge.
A burnt up house is so mundane.

But that didn't change the fact that I was carrying a gas can on the Lower East Side on an extremely early Monday morning.

But, before I could decide what it was, exactly, I was going to burn down and why -a woman was onto me.

I abandoned my plot.

When I reached my car, unscrewed the gas cap, and began to glug-glug the gas into my poor abused automobile, a man pulled up on a pair of roller blades and crashed himself down on the stoop next to me.

I smiled at him.

He pulled out a screw driver, took off a skate, and started doing something by the way of tinkering.

"These skates I just bought for ten dollars are acting like I just bought them for ten dollars."

"Because you did."

"Yeah, but they're like $200 skates I just bought off a street kid."

"Right."

"It's worth it though, I don't have wheels of any kind."

"Well, be careful that they don't fall apart while you are moving."

"Well, I'm careful enough to hope I don't die."

I bid him good bye when my car started up and good luck.