Homefries, vegan sausage, eggs, beans, sweet potato muffins, we can do breakfast for dinner!
And hash, I say. Your hash is good. How do you make such good hash?
I boil the potatoes a little to make them tender, she says of her perfect hash.
And these muffins, I say, they are so tasty.
They’re from this cookbook that I just love, she says, called It’s All Good.
This is going to be so fun, she says. We’re a fun couple. We do fun things. Breakfast for dinner!
B for D, I say.
What? she says.
Breakfast for dinner, I say. It’s the nickname I came up with. B for D.
I love it, she says.
What should I contribute? I say.
Mimosas, she says. Mimosas will be perfect.
I go to the wine store. I look for a bottle of champagne. I find one. Is this a good bottle of champagne for mimosas? I ask the sales clerk.
Yes, she says. This will work perfectly with mimosas.
Great, I say. We’re having B for D.
What's that? she says?
We’re having breakfast for dinner, I say. B for D.
Oh, she says.
We do fun things, I say. We’re a couple but we like to have fun, to do things a little differently.
That’s great, she says.
We’re pretty adventurous, I say.
Have fun! she says, as I leave.
Right as I'm about to cross the street I drop the bag and the champagne breaks.
Damnit, I say.
I go back to the wine shop. I dropped my champagne, I say.
Oh no! she says.
I buy another. We have to have mimosas for B and D! I say.
Yes you do, she says. You're a fun couple.
As I’m crossing the street a bicyclist runs into my arm and hand that’s carrying the champagne and knocks it to the ground and the bottle shatters.
You’ve got to be kidding me, I say.
I go back to the store. A bicyclist ran into me, I say. He broke the champagne and kept on going.
Asshole! she says.
Yeah, asshole, I say.
I buy another bottle.
Let’s pack this really well, she says. I’m going to give it lots of padding.
I walk down the street. Before I cross the street. I look both ways. I have to wait. There’s a long convey of trucks coming down the street. It’s the Big Apple Circus. The convoy has trucks with animals and props and everything needed for the circus, which is going to set up just a few blocks away at Atlantic Terminal.
I hear a loud, terrifying screech. Two trucks smash into each other. This is happening right in front of me. The trucks make a loud bang and one of the back doors pop open. A lion peeks his head out. I’m not kidding. This is a true story, you can look it up in the papers. A lion escapes from the Big Apple Circus car crash on Franklin Avenue.
When I see the lion I get a little nervous. He looks hungry and stares right at me. I run. I’m not going to say I am brave and caught the lion or use a spare chair to tame him. Instead I retreat. I get back into the wine store and we lock the door. I text my girlfriend, there’s a lion on the streets! I write. Sad face!
I'm afraid to ask but happened to the champagne? The store clerk says.
Shit! I say. Shit! Shit! Shit!
I look out. The lion is gnawing at my bag while his handlers circle him.
Damnit, I say.
We have to wait a while until they capture the lion. After he's back in his truck, I go out. My champagne had been trampled. I return to the wine store.
One more champagne, I say.
This time it’s for real. This time we’re going to get it home. We pack it in. She agrees to walk me home and locks up the store. We cross the street. When we get to the front door, I thank her. We’ve bonded a little. We hug. I go into the building elevator.
We live on the fifth floor. As the elevator passes the fourth floor it stops. I wait for the doors to open, but they do not open. I push the fifth floor button and it stays lit, but the elevator doesn't move. It's stuck. Of course, it's stuck.
I call my girlfriend. Then I call the fire department. The firemen pry the door open and there's only enough space for them to lift me up and out of the elevator. As they're pulling me up, I say, What about the champagne? I need the champagne! For the B and D! I need the champagne!
Leave it, they say. You’ll have to get it when they fix the elevator. They pull me out.
Hi sweetie, I say. What a day. What a day.
We go into the apartment. She has everything ready: the homefries, the muffins, the vegan sausage, the hash.
I don’t have any champagne, I say.
It’s okay, sweetie, she says. I just found a bottle in the back of the fridge.
Seriously? I say. Seriously?
B for D! we yell.