As they drove down the West Side Highway, Wally started to feel better about their chances for a successful arrival in Tribeca. South of One Hundredth Street, the car sputtered.

“What’s that?” Arthur spat.

“What’s what?”

“What’s wrong with the car?” Suspicion in his eyes, Arthur leaned over and looked at the gas gauge. “We’re out of gas, you idiot! What’s wrong with you? We could have taken my car!”

“You were too upset to drive,” Wally protested as he steered the sputtering car to the side of the highway, where it went kaput. “I’ve been meaning to get gas…”

“Meaning to get gas! You get behind the wheel during a blackout, and you don’t check to see how much gas you have?”

“I was stressed out!” Hoping against hope, Wally turned the key. The engine whined and moaned but refused to turn over.

“Let’s go,” Arthur said as he started to get out of the car.

“Go? And leave my car here? It’ll get towed.”

“Well then why don’t you call the police and report it? While you’re at it, ask them to give us a ride to Tribeca.” Arthur stepped out onto the street and slammed the door.

My contractor’s ultimate fantasy was so misguided, Wally thought as he got out, retrieved two flashlights from the backseat, and locked the car. “If it doesn’t get towed, it’ll get stolen,” he mumbled.

“By thieves who just happen to be carrying a can of gas?” Arthur asked sarcastically.

They started walking along a footpath near the river. As strolls go, if one was in the right frame of mind, it was the perfect time for one. The night—dark, quiet, and calm—had a mysterious, ethereal beauty.

“I hope we don’t get knifed,” Arthur said with his usual pessimism. “This area is deserted. You don’t know who we might come across. That’s why I bought the stun gun. Do you know they’re legal in most states? But not New York or New Jersey. Ohhhh, no. I read online that instead of having Tupperware parties, women all over the country are having taser parties. They’re buying them for self defense!”

“What don’t you read online? You’re a fountain of information.”

“I enjoy my time at the computer.”

“Well, legal or not, you might have left the stun gun behind at a crime scene. That’s our problem. That’s why we’re here right now.”

They continued on in silence for several minutes.

“Look!” Arthur whispered. “There’s someone coming this way.” In the distance a lone figure was headed toward them. Arthur’s knees started to shake. “Maybe we should cross the highway.”

“What kind of a man are you?” Wally asked with disgust. “Just keep walking. There are two of us and one of him.”

As the figure drew closer they could tell it was a disheveled man with a beard. He was wearing a backpack and looking down at the ground as he trudged along, mumbling to himself.

“He’s demented,” Wally muttered.

Moments later, as they were approaching the stranger whose body odor preceded him, Wally felt a sudden urge to be friendly. “Evening,” he said.