Fast Trains to Odd Places
Life with my family
My mother used to say that the quickest way to hell was to take the subway. I’m not sure what she meant by this, and neither was my father, although he also liked to mention that a pastrami on rye wasn’t actually invented by God.
“Dad, the rabbi said that God doesn’t even like pastrami! He’s a vegetarian,” I told him.
“He doesn’t know, Johnny. No one knows if He eats meat or not. In fact, no one knows much about what goes on Up There.”
“Then how do you know He didn’t invent that sandwich?”
“Ask your Mom. She’s the one who told me.”
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Well, that’s the way our family always has been. What’s for certain is for certain, even if it makes no sense at all.
First of all, we didn’t even have a subway in our little town!
“Mom?”
“Yes, Johnny?”
“How do you know where subways go?”
“Well, your Uncle Morris used to ride the subway when he was courting your Aunt Evie.”
“But, Mom! She lived in Queens!”
“That’s close enough to hell. At least I think so.”
Everybody was opinionated in my family! Even the dog took sides. He had learned to bark in Yiddish! Seriously! I have never met a dog before or since who could tell a joke with a woof. But Mortie could. He learned how by watching the Tonight Show when everyone else was asleep. My sister would help him with the remote control while having phone sex with her boyfriend.
Her boyfriend was a piece of cake. He had joined the Navy and was serving on an aircraft carrier which had gotten lost! But I guess they had cell phone reception. Wherever they were.
He’s out of the Navy now, and Florence and him are married. But, he tells me, they never did find that aircraft carrier.
“Then how did you get back?” I wasn’t going to let him off with such an idiot tale.
“I called your Mom, and she got me a subway ticket.”
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Right. You’re thinking that maybe my whole family had gone to hell, cognitively speaking. But I’ve got news for you: Hell came to us! Asking for advice. I was there! It was the damnedest thing (well, quite literally.)
There was the Devil, standing in our living room, my Mom offering to get him a coffee, and the dog just barking.
The Devil’s a smart guy. He barked back (in passable Yiddish) and the both of them just laughed.
I was only 12 at the time, and, I’ll be honest with you, I was pretty freaked out. My Dad came in with a pizza he had just gotten from Bruno’s Little Italy. It had sausage on top, which my Mom hated because it wasn’t kosher, but the dog and the Devil just laughed when he opened the box.
Bruno was a weird guy, too. The menu had a sepia tinted old photo from a bridge, and the inscription said, “See Naples and then die.” (I’m not making that one up.) Bruno tossed pies in an open window you could see from the dining room. I loved him. And his pies were the best in town.
Anyway… Here comes my Dad. The Devil’s in the living room. The dog’s barking. My Mom brings him a coffee. He thanks her and takes a seat. The dog shuts up. He knows it’s getting serious now.
My Dad doesn’t care at all. He offers the Devil a slice, with the Italian sausage all juicy and dripping, and my Mom, even though she’s hosting the Devil, giving him a frown.
“It’s OK, Bertie,” the Devil tells her. “We don’t keep kosher, anyway.”
*************
As I said, I was only 12, and I didn’t know what to do! My Dad did, though.
“Listen, Tayvoleh,” he says to the Grand Fiend, “ I don’t know why you’re here, and, honestly, I don’t care. But I respect my wife and her crazy subway stories. So I guess, if we can get to you, then you can visit us. What can we do for you? And, go ahead, eat up! It’s good!”
The dog wasn’t sure what to do. And that was a first.
The Devil took a bite, had a sip of coffee, and then this is what he said: “Listen, Moshe, I know you guys are not exactly friends with the people (and demons) I like to visit, but I have a problem Down There, and you’re the only ones who can help.”
Even the dog kept quiet.
My Mom, though, still pissed at having non-kosher food in the house, lit into him. “Listen, Tayvoleh, we’re not scared of you, but hospitality is hospitality, and you’ve come a long way … well, I hope it’s a long way, but you never know, as the rabbi says. Anyway, what’s your problem Down There?”
Damn, my parents really did fear no one! And that was good, because life wasn’t easy for any of us back then. If we could face down the Devil, then I figured I didn’t have anything else I couldn’t handle. A kid needs that when he’s only 12. I know I did.
So the Devil tells us this story: It seems all the really evil people who God had sent there decided that they needed to go on the Internet. They wanted WiFi! The Devil had tried to scare them, but they took him on. “Listen,” they told him, “we don’t want it just for fun. We understand our sentence here. But we thought maybe we could all help each other. We can spread pain and disinformation on Facebook and help people get here quicker, and ‘what the hell!’ We’ll have a little fun, too.”
“Well, Moshe, Bertie, they’re having too much fun, and I don’t know how to stop it now.”
My Dad thought we should ask the rabbi, but … I looked at the dog. He went woof! and stuck his tongue out and drooled at me. I knew then I was OK. I could do it!
“Listen, Tayvoleh,” I offered. “My folks don’t understand social media like my sister and I do. And I have an idea.” I still can’t believe that I had the chutzpah to say that, being only 12 and all, but he listened to me! Maybe it was Bruno’s pizza, or maybe it was the psilocybin my Mom had slipped into his coffee. (My sister told me later.) But he stopped and wiggled his red pointy ears at me, and said…
“Go ahead, kid. I’m listening.”
And that’s how the idea for the Metaverse came to be. When Zuckerberg said he was going to change the name to “Meta,” hire 10,000 engineers, and get us all hooked into Bozoland, I’m sorry, but it’s all my fault.
The Devil liked my idea so much that he built a subway line direct from our living room to fucking Hell (with a side spur to Bruno’s) and has employed my Mom and Dad there ever since. I went off to college and didn’t say a word. I’ve limited my responsibility (or so I tell myself.) The dog is still barking, but in Hell now. He’s just visiting on weekends, though. Don’t cry for him. He’s quite popular there!
Moshe and Bertie are just visiting, too. They take the subway when needed and come home at night.
But that aircraft carrier is another story.
Damn, I have a crazy family! And I guess I’m not a paragon, either.
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© “John” Lesly Levin 2021
