Giving Back Ontario

"I still can't believe that you walk into someone's house, your drug dealer no less, and the first thing you do is take a dump. What the fuck is with you?"

"..."

"Finkie!...Finkie?"

"..."

"Snap out of it, Finkie! What's with you?"

Finkie took his hands off the steering wheel. "Fucking watch this man, I can drive this car with my mind."

And Harry should have stopped Finkie, but he didn't. He wanted to see something happen. And have a laugh.

Finkie took his foot off the gas pedal and let the car cruise down the street through three stop signs and a red light. The stupidity of youth in all its glory.

"D'ya see what I mean, Harry? D'ya see what I mean?"

"D'ya see the flashing red lights behind us, Finkie? It's the cops. Stop the car, Finkie."

"What? Why'd you call the cops, Harry? Why'd you call them?"

"I didn't call them,  Finkie. You're delusional."

"You wanted this to happen, Harry."

That was true. Harry felt a rush of adrenalin course through his body as the police car pulled up behind them. Something great and exciting about trouble. The immediacy of experiencing it,of  being there, of being a voyeur to disaster was addictive. A free ride to trouble that Harry knew was wrong.

Finkie checked back into reality while studying the $650 ticket. "And eight demerit points?! Fuck, I'm so fucked, Harry! I'm so fucked!"

That was true- but hysterical, at least for Harry. He couldn't contain himself any longer and keeled over in hysterical laughter. Just another take on slipping on a banana peel. The hurt is funny.

Harry drove the car home, slowly and carefully, but Finkie wouldn't shut up.

"It's your fault, Harry! You're the dark prince, you willed this to happen!"

"Fucking Finkie man, get a grip on yourself. You're all fucked up."

"You're the fucking dark prince, Harry Starr! They're broadcasting it on the radio now! Can't you hear it?!"

Game over is all I hear, Finkie. 

And it only got worse. A spying nectarine, a budgie that was an arms dealer, a venture in real estate. Finkie gave Florida to Uncle Hershie, New York to his mother's best friend, Selma Nudelman, because, "Selma loves Broadway musicals." Harry got Vermont, (although he felt slighted. "He could've given me California").

The end of an era, the end of a life.

Next stop - the psychiatric ward.  It became official, Finkie was schizophrenic.

Bye bye life.
Bye bye happiness.
Hello looney tunes,
I think I'm gonna cry.
Bye bye my life, bye bye.
    (softly)
Bye bye my life, bye bye.

Still, Harry convinced himself that maybe, maybe he'd wake up the next morning and Finkie would be back to normal. Normal for him. They'd finish the script, get an agent and score staff writing jobs on Feldman. Maybe even befriend Gary Feldman? It could happen. Like Stevie Dash - now he was producing his own show on NBC.

Visiting Finkie at the psychiatric ward in the hospital wasn't  real. It would go away. Just another story, sick and funny.

"I'll be out of here in a few days, Harry. It's nothing, Harry, nothing. In a couple of months we'll be in L.A.."

"Oh yeah...great." Sweet dreams, Finkie.

"I'm telling you, Harry."

A group of skittish patients gingerly gathered around Finkie, now the undisputed BMOW (Big Man On the Ward). King of the hopelessly marginal. Harvey Potashner-extreme.

"Get the fuck outta here, you freaks! You're all fucken crazy! Nuts! Loco, loco! Beat it psychos!" Finkie yelled. He laughed maniacally. "They're all crazy, Harry, fucking nuts, man, fucking nuts."

The freaked-out patients scurried away like escaped rabbits. Myron, the masturbating performance artist, wet his pants. Beth, the drooling redhead, hid under the coffee table and tiny Jamie who wouldn't stop singing, "We represent, the lollipop kids, the lollipop kids...," bolted towards the window, and looked out longingly at the ledge.

"Jump!" Finkie urged. "Jump, you munchkin!" howling like a madman, but abruptly stopped when Harry's face turned white. "Relax, Harry. The windows are bolted shut."

He sounds normal...

"It's okay if she jumps," Harry said.

Finkie's face turned white.

"Just joking, Finkie." Not entirely true; Jamie was really getting on his nerves.

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

Maybe. Hopefully. Harry sighed.

Finkie put his ear against his watch. "It's the Prime Minister. He says that he'll get me out by supper, if I give him back Ontario."