Giving Away Minnesota

After the telepathic drive Finkie was convinced that Babs, his mother's pet budgie was taking orders from Ayatollah Khomeini. During a February snowstorm, Finkie tossed Babs out the window, so that it could fly to Iran and overthrow the Ayatollah.

Then there was the fruit; the talking pears, the farting nectarines, the giggling grapes. After that Finkie got into real estate. He gave Florida to Uncle Hershie, Texas to his mother's best friend, Selma Levine, and South Dakota to Harry, which Harry took as a slight. He would have preferred California or New York.

That was it. Next stop: the psychiatric ward at the Mount Sinai Hospital. And although Harry could not accept it, did not believe it, (feared losing his own mind as well), Finkie had gone skitz. Bye bye never-ending childhood, adios the sweet long nights of endless summer, au revoir audacious shared dreams never to come to pass. Welcome to the real world, to the call of the wild that knows no favors, gives no second chances, the inevitable laws of nature that cull the herd.

At least Harry was good at living in denial. He was not really selling belts, only doing it until he made it big. How that would happen however, was still a mystery. He would get his girl, maybe not by stalking her, or by sitting all night in his car parked in front of her house, waiting for the douche bag in the Porsche to leave, but somehow Harry would get his girl. And he'd never be without his best friend, the stories would never stop, the laughs would never fade away. He'd wake up tomorrow and Finkie would snap out of it. They'd finish the script, get an agent and staff writing jobs on Feldman. Maybe even befriend Gary? It could happen. Together, they'd conquer the world.

So visiting Finkie at the psychiatric ward in the Mount Sinai Hospital wasn't real. It was a mistake, an aberration, just another story .

"I'll be out of here in a few days, Harry. It's just a chemical imbalance. A few meds and I'll be fine. In a couple of months we'll be in LA."

"If you say so, Finkie."

"I'm telling you, Harry."

A small group of skittish patients gingerly gathered around Finkie, now the undisputed Big Man On the Ward. But Finkie didn't want any fans and shooed them away like stray cats.

"Get outta here! You're all crazy!" Finkie yelled. Then he laughed maniacally. "They're all crazy, Harry, all nuts."

The startled patients scurried away in all directions. Myron the public masturbator wet his pants. Beth the drooling redhead hid under the coffee table and Jamie, the twitching mathematical savant, bolted towards the window, and looked out longingly at the ledge.

"Jump, jump!" Finkie urged. He howled like a madman, then abruptly stopped when he caught the look of horror on Harry's face. "Relax, Harry. The windows are bolted shut."

" ..." Harry gasped.

"See that Harry? I'm not crazy like these whack-jobs."

Maybe. Hopefully. Harry sighed with relief.

Finkie put his ear against his watch. "The Prime Minister just told me he'll get me out by supper." He broke out in laughter. "All I had to do was give him Minnesota."