In the few seconds it took Robohon to descend the one hundred and twenty seven feet from the promenade of the Brooklyn Bridge to the East River below, one wonders what might have occurred within the machinations of the small robot. Was it questioning why it’s new guardian had condemned it to the murky waters below? Perhaps it was trying to come up with a fun fact about terminal velocity? I suppose we’ll never know, as the only one with the answer is probably somewhere at the bottom of the Atlantic now, but I can tell you the story of how an adult came to throw a talking robot off the Brooklyn Bridge. Two friends from Vermont embarked upon a trip into New York City. Marnie was a real estate agent who detested all the obnoxious New Yorkers buying up property in Vermont, so naturally as a sales bonus they awarded her an all-expenses paid trip to the Big Apple. Newly divorced, Marnie decided to invite her best friend Michael to tag along. Michael was a scheduling coordinator who used sarcasm and film references to mask the fact that he was not a well man, decades of heavy drinking had seen to that. In fact, both Marnie and Michael had bad stomachs due to their inclination towards starches and liquor, so naturally a weekend on the spree in the city that never sleeps sounded like a capitol idea. It was two in the afternoon by the time Marnie and Michael ventured out into the fine, ninety eight degree air of Brooklyn on that Saturday in August, looking and feeling their finest.

“You could’ve left me in bed, or at least had the decency to shoot me.” Marnie said, praying to God the ibuprofen would kick in soon, popping a mint and tossing one to Michael.

“But where would be the fun in that? This is New York friend, and there are so many fascinating places for you to get sick at.” quipped Michael, who’d drank his way through the hangover.

“I am seriously concerned about what just came out of me.”

“I never thought I’d say the air in Brooklyn felt fresh, but here we are. This weekend’s already full of surprises.”

“Bite me.”

“I’m just saying, along our travels we may want to consult with a priest about what happened in that bathroom.”

Marnie proceeded to pinch Michael so hard she drew blood, causing much consternation from her friend. The pair strolled down Flatbush Avenue that afternoon and, if it hadn’t been New York City, where you’d have to be naked and screaming in the street for people to pay any attention to you, folks might have done a double take at this seemingly unlikely pair. Marnie was dressed like she was going to a casting call for a black widow. A wool, floppy and wide brimmed hat covered her multicolored hair. Her black top was covered by a wafer thin black sweater, black leggings terminating in a pair of black flats. All of this was accented by a custom made gold necklace bookended by a fish that few people knew was a nod to Monty Python’s fish slapping dance. Michael meanwhile had a head of long, messy brown hair with an ever-widening bald patch on the crown. He sported a pair of smudged, black rimmed Buddy Holly’s that sat unevenly above a most regrettable porn star mustache. He wore a custom white ‘You Can Call Me Al’ t-shirt that had a scuffed rainbow painted from Paul’s sax, over Chevy’s head and culminating at his trumpet. This stemmed from an evening at the Burlington Paint & Sip, where Michael made Marnie laugh so hard she farted, causing her to immediately retaliate and graffiti his shirt. This oversized and somewhat grungy tee covered an ever expanding belly, courtesy of more than a decade of heavy drinking. Worn brown corduroys and brown hiking shoes that refused to stay tied for more than an hour completed the ensemble.

Michael was in the middle of a diatribe lamenting how today’s history students were not taught either King Phillip’s War or Bacon’s Rebellion when he stopped dead in his tracks.

“Shit Marnie! We forgot our little friend.”

“Come on Michael, leave that thing in the Goddamned room.”

“But your company bought it for you as part of this trip, how could we miss this opportunity? Quick and swift, I am not slow!” Michael said as he haphazardly charged back towards the hotel. Marnie shook her head and contemplated hailing a taxi and finding somewhere cold that served booze, but instead she walked into a bodega and copped a plastic bottle of rum. Ridiculous a person as Michael could be, they had been best friends since college, and there was just too much water under that bridge. Several minutes later, as Marnie sought shelter from the swelter under the bodega’s awning, Michael reappeared now sporting a baby carrier with what looked like a small doll inside it.

“Why the hell do you have that toy strapped to your chest?”

“Marnie this is Robohon, who will be our tour guide for the day.” Michael grinned.

“And you really want to carry that thing around all day?”

“Not just carry around, but learn from it. Besides it came all the way from Japan to be here this fine day and educate us on the city that never sleeps. we’d be foolish not to take advantage!”

“Foolish… right.” Marnie said with a sigh, “How does it work anyway?”

Michael fumbled around until he managed to turn the little robot on.

“Hi! It’s great to meet you.” Robohon said in a high piched, doll like voice, “I’m Robohon. I’ll be your good partner while you’re in New York. How can I call you?”

“How can I call you?” Marnie repeated while Michael investigated.

“I think I’m supposed to enter my name somewhere, hang on a sec.”

“Please write your nickname on my back screen.” Robohon helpfully added.

Michael hunched over to enter his name but somehow failed in this endeavor.

“Oh no, that’s wrong. I’ve somehow written Moke”

“You spelled your own name wrong?” Marnie snorted, “Aren’t you a published author?”

“Bite me.” Michael said as he tried to figure out how to go back but to no avail.

“Moke, I’ve got it. Now put me back to where I was first Moke.” Robohon said cheerfully

“No, stop that. Stop calling me that.” Michael’s face got redder. By this point Marnie was laughing so hard she nearly wet herself as she crumpled to the sidewalk.

After more futile button jamming Michael plopped down on the sidewalk beside the bodega and couldn’t help but laugh as well. For the next couple of minutes, New Yorkers, used to all sorts of madness, couldn’t help but cast a sideward glance at the man and woman manically giggling on the pavement while one of them wore a doll around his chest. Once they were able to resume normal breathing they got up and continued up Flatbush, heading towards Prospect Park.

“Let’s see how this works.” Michael said, “Robohon, tell us a fun fact about New York City.”

“Guess what, Moke?”

“What?”

“Did you know that there are 69,374 active prostitutes in New York City?”

“What the fuck?” Marnie gasped, stunned by this apparently smutty robot.

“Really? How delightful! “Michael said with a shit eating grin on his face, “Can you direct us to some by chance?”

“Michael!”

“You’ve had a hard year friend, and I’ve got three hundred dollars that says you’re having a good time.”

“Marvelous, then we can have a contest to see which of us needs penicillin by the end of the weekend.”

“That sounds like a great time to me.”

“Guess what, Moke?”

“What Robohon?”

“Traveling is kind of getting me excited.”

“Michael what did you download into this thing last night?”

“I thought it was the website that came with the instructions, but to be fair I browned out so maybe not?”

“Why don’t you just turn it off already? All this little asshole has done is talk about prostitutes and getting excited. Clearly somebody dropped Robohon on it’s head.”

“Are you kidding? The suspense is killing me, I can’t wait to hear what fun fact it enlightens us with next. Hey Robohon, give us another fun fact.”

Alas, the circles around the little robot’s eyes glowed yellow and they remained silent.

“Guess it’s asleep, damn” Michael said as he tried to fiddle with some buttons, but to no avail.

“Come on Michael, if you’re just looking for random factoids I could give you a few.”

“Like what?” Michael asked. Marnie thought about it a minute before she said.

“If you watch ‘The Matrix’ in reverse, it’s about a guy plagued by bizarre fever dreams who ends up quitting drugs and taking an office job.”

“Fuck me, that actually works. Why didn’t we try that in college?”

“Because we were too busy taking edibles and syncing ‘Dark Side Of The Moon’ to the ending of ‘2001 A Space Odyssey’.”

Marnie and Michael had a good laugh reliving their mischievous college years and swapping old stories, including the time they got blackout drunk in Montreal and somehow woke up the next morning wearing matching Catholic schoolgirl uniforms. Eventually talk turned to the present day and Michael remembered the news he’d neglected to tell Marnie.

“I meant to tell you on the phone last week, but Lydia and I split up.”

“Oh no, the librarian? I thought you two were good for each other, what happened?”

“Nothing terribly dramatic, we were just two good people who figured out after a while we didn’t exactly fit together.”

“Didn’t fit together? What, was the sex bad?”

“No, not that. Though I will say there are some anatomical conversations that health class does not adequately prepare you for.”

“Like what?”

“Like when your girlfriend wants to do it doggie style but you’re not big enough to reach.”

“Seems pretty straightforward to me. God clearly hates you.”

“Fuck you, and no biology hates me, God doesn’t exist.”

“Really? I’ve known you seventeen years and I never clocked that you were an Atheist.”

“I’m not even that, I just don’t subscribe to religion period.”

“Do you mind if I ask why? Not judging, just curious.”

“I think it’s a load of bullshit people have been selling themselves on for thousands of years, because life is random and terrifying. Part of it is people need an explanation for why all this fucked shit happens. For example why did my mother, kindest soul I ever knew, suffer a brutal death at the hands of cancer before she was forty five, while a bunch of former concentration camp guards lived into their nineties? How could something as horrible as 9/11 happen? Why do wars and genocides happen? Hell if anything religion has caused more wars and genocides then it’s stopped. But the point is most people believe there has to be a reason why these things happen, not just because the universe is random and chaotic, so they go in for religion. It offers them the comfort that someone or something is at the wheel.”

“So do you think everyone who’s religious is delusional?”

“No, they just happen to have a need that I don’t. I personally can’t get past the one true God thing. I mean, if there is a true deity up there how come we’ve got hundreds of different religions? Shit I’ve lost track of how many subsections of Christianity there are. So does that mean just one single subsection of humanity is correct and everyone else who has ever or will ever exist is wrong, sinful and condemned to a one way ticket to hell? I’m always hearing that God is merciful and forgiving and yet from what I’ve read of the bible he’s constantly mad at us. God is everywhere but I’ve got to go to his house once a week and give him money? Sounds like a shakedown, like he’s my bookie or something only instead of getting my legs broke I get an eternity in hell.”

“How did we dip into theology? I was just trying to poke fun at your penis.”

“What would you know? You’ve never seen my penis.”

“And thanks be to God for that.”

Michael gave Marnie a flick to the arm as they stepped around the cracks in the sidewalk and the ancient black smudges that may have once been gum or God knows what. Marnie remarked that somebody could earn college credit calculating all the air conditioners and fire escapes in the borough of Brooklyn. Michael countered that one could earn a doctorate trying to count all the bricks on just the buildings. Marnie looked at all the brick buildings on either side of the street and her mind nearly broke. The air was so sticky and thick it felt like they were actually drinking the fumes from the exhaust. Both agreed that if they didn’t find the damn park soon they were going to bag the afternoon. It was at this low ebb when they came upon Parkside Avenue, and beheld a clump of trees a couple of blocks left. After picking through a crowd of homeless folks gathered by the corner, regaling each other with tales of bad encounters with the NYPD, Marnie and Michael hot stepped it into Prospect Park. Within minutes they were both amazed at how quickly the city faded away into the serene leafy green of the park. Now maybe it was the fun gummies Michael had scored from a co-worker and the pair had for brunch, or a combination of dehydration from a night of boozing and drinking in car exhaust, but things began to get weird. First a pack of cyclists who were all dressed as The Count from ‘Sesame Street’ came riding up.

“Three Miles! Ha ha ha.” They shouted in unison as they passed by. Then as Marnie and Michael approached a faded pavilion from the Gilded Age, they saw that there were two groups of men faced off against one another, each amongst them sporting dark and dusty clothes not of this century. As they neared, they heard raised voices with almost indecipherable cockney accents.

“I’ve already told you lot, you’re not meant to work this spot less you’re in the union.” One of the leaders spat.

“Union? We’re dancing chimney sweeps you fucking melt! There’s no union.”

“Who you calling a melt, geeze?”

“You alright mate? You want these hands?”

“You think you’re bad man, yeah? You wanna have a go?”

“Toss off you bunch of wankers!” a smaller man in the front yelled.

Everything stopped dead. Apparently the phrase wankers was too rude even for this lot, because in no time a roadman from the opposing side stepped up and gave the little guy a right cross to the chin. One thing led to another and before you knew it a full-blown donnybrook had broken out. The accordionists, not knowing what else to do, shrugged and started playing ‘Step In Time’ as an enthusiastic crowd whipped out their phones and gathered round to cheer the lads. A little further on, by what looked like a small, ornate tunnel there was a string quartet in tuxedos and a woman in a red dress performing an impassioned rendition of ‘What’s Up’ on an endless loop. Marnie and Michael stuck around to help with the chorus, “I said hey! What’s going on.” a few times before they moved on.

“What is happening here Marnie?” Michael asked as they continued getting lost in the park.

“Probably the edibles we had” Marnie replied.

“That or the booze has finally killed enough brain cells to distort reality.”

“Well in that case, here’s to our health!” Marnie said as she took out the plastic bottle of rum to share.

“Hey Robohon, give us a fun fact about Prospect Park.” Michael said after a pull of rum.

“Guess what, Moke?” Robohon said as it’s eyes lit up.

“Christsakes.” Michael grumbled as Marnie snorted with delight, “What Robohon?”

“Did you know that Prospect Park has been the sight of a Revolutionary War battle, 19th century neoclassic revival, several strangulations and an immolation?”

“Whoa that turned fast.” Michael said as he laughed

“What the fuck is wrong with this thing?” Marnie asked.

“Guess what, Moke?”

“Lay it on me Robohon.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t understand.”

“What you stupid asshole?”

“Did you know that there are over two million rats in New York City? They can leap four feet sideways, fall five stories without injury and chew through cinderblock?”

“Oh my God.” Marnie said through her hands, “Michael you’ve got to make it stop.”

“What? You don’t want to hear the other fascinating things this little prick has to say?” Michael laughed.

“Guess what, Moke?”

“What Robohon?”

“Did you know that residents of New York City bite ten times more people than sharks do worldwide each year?”

“Ok, I think that’s enough from Robohon for a while.” Michael said after catching a look from Marnie.

“I need food in me, like desperately. Do you think there’s any place around here that does buffalo chicken dip?” Marnie asked, not sure she was feeling well enough to eat, owing to the heat and hangover but wanting to endeavor none the less.

“Well… I’m not sure but according to Google there’s supposed to be food stands right here in the park.” Michael replied, never one to turn down the prospect of greasy food these days. Sure enough they stumbled into the Smorgasburg, a collection of diverse food stands. Sadly there was no buffalo dip to be found, but both gravitated towards a stand offering poutine. The fact that the fries were hand cut and cooked in authentic duck fat sold them. Once they congratulated themselves for choosing diet coke they slunk away to find a less crowded spot for lunch. After crossing a bridge and walking for a hot minute they settled on some grass across a pond from a lovely gilded boat house. Marnie poured a healthy amount of rum into their sodas and the two enjoyed a salty, tasty treat.

They were have having a lovely time when Michael spotted what appeared to be a wedding party gathering for pictures by the boathouse. He didn’t say anything and hoped Marnie wouldn’t see it, but she did.

“Poor thing, she must be dying in that dress. Long sleeves on a day like today? But she looks so pretty.” Manie said as she gazed at the young couple starting their life together.

“Yeah well at least she’s not wearing a full black tux. One of the groomsmen looks like he’s about to drop.” Michael replied.

“Friend you’ve never worn a wedding dress, you have no idea.”

“Hey I tried to that one night in Atlantic City…”

“We’ve talked about this!” Marnie snapped, “We do not discuss what happened in Atlantic City, even under oath.”

“Sorry.” Michael replied.

“I was worried that I was going to be freezing in mine, short sleeved on St Patrick’s Day, in Vermont.”

“And then it ended up being the warmest March in the history of the state.”

“It was so beautiful that day, I really thought the stars had aligned for Marius and I.”

“It’s one of my favorite days, and you looked beautiful in that dress.”

“Well thank you friend, and you were very handsome… in your salmon pink tux.” Marnie giggled

“You said I had to color coordinate with the other bridesmaids and picked out that salmon suit yourself.”

“I needed to sell Marius on the idea of a male maid of honor, and I figured the entertainment value would sell him.”

“Hell I would’ve worn anything for the chance to stand up for you that day.”

“And I’m so glad you did. That was a hell of a speech you gave, had nearly everybody in tears and yet you snuck in a fart reference just for me.”

“Ah yes, you know there are a lot of things I could tell you about my friend Marnie, a laugh that fills every room she’s in, her love of the natural wind, her dreams of flying a plane in the evening dim, but tonight I’m going to talk to you about her greatest gift to the world, her heart.”

“Oh friend, you remembered!” Marnie shrieked as she gave Michael a hug.

“Of course I did, I spent six months memorizing that speech. The day might come where I won’t be able to remember my name, or your name, or what I had for breakfast but I will still be able to recite that speech verbatim.”

“As damn well you should! You know you were a big hit at that wedding salmon man, particularly with my friend Cassie.”

“Oh gosh, was that Cassie of the blonde hair, blue eyes and teal and black dress… Yes I recall.” Michael said sheepishly.

“Darling,” Marnie began with a few pats on Michael’s hand, “when a girl at a wedding spends ninety minutes straight dancing only with you, using any excuse for close contact, giving you the moon eyes and asking you what you’re doing later… it’s ok to ask if she’d like to go back to your room.”

“Yeah…” Michael said rubbing his sweaty forehead, “I may have missed a few signs.”

“Michael she practically erected a billboard. But, if it’s any consolation, you gave Cassie and I a fun story for years to come.”

“Strangely enough Marnie, that is not particularly consoling, thank you very much. And how is Cassie these days?”

“Still living out west, and still very much married.”

“Ah well, I never was very good at picking up on cues. Just ask any of my exes.” Michael bitterly chuckled.

“At least you got to date around a lot, and collect all those stories. Me… I was engaged at twenty-two and married at twenty-four. Ten years on and then he decides that he needs to quit his job and drive cross country with no plan of any kind… and no wife. I mean, what the actual fuck?”

“A bit early for a mid-life crisis isn’t it?”

“No, I don’t think it was anything to do with trying to recapture lost youth or being bored with marriage. I genuinely do believe he’s having a spiritual crisis, and looking back the signs were there for years. I could see he was getting burned out at his job, it made him absolutely miserable. I thought if he found a better job that would solve at least part of it, I didn’t figure it was the jobs themselves.”

“It was a question of meaning then?”

“I don’t think he ever took the time to really figure out what he wanted to do with his life. We got engaged right out of college and it was 2009, first priority was find any job that was hiring and scrimp away what we could for the wedding. Then it was saving for a house, improving that house, saving for a better house. Then it was putting money away for any potential kids or for retirement. He told me he felt pushed into a career path he never wanted because he would’ve felt ashamed and a failure for not pulling his weight.”

“How did you respond to that?”

“I was really fucking frustrated! Every time I would ask what was going on, he’d say he was just tired or it was just work stuff and NEVER elaborate. It’s not like I pestered him every night, in fact I gave him as much space as I could without him turning into a roommate I happened to be married to. And the arguments, my GOD!”

“He wasn’t much for presenting an argument if I recall.”

“Even worse, he flat refused to argue about anything. Any time I wanted to debate something with him he caved with hardly a contrary word. Even basic stuff like where to go for dinner. He secretly stewed for years before finally coming out and accusing me of being domineering. I just wanted him to engage with me, I was more than willing to meet him halfway on most everything but he never gave me that chance. Instead he and his entire family referred to me as management. ‘Yeah I’ve got to check with management first, let me see what management says.’ The fact that he equated me, even though he said it was jokingly, with some asshole manager was really hurtful.”

“I’m remember you tried to tell him that several times.”

“I tried to tell him on so many occasions. Yet he continued to stick to the it’s all in good fun line. I was very clear I didn’t appreciate it but for whatever reason he chose not to register that, and I figured if I got overly upset that’d just be another thing he and his family could hold onto. I’m not that person Michael, I’ve never been that person who needs to always be in charge, I fucking hated that!”

“I’m sorry Marnie.” Michael said, hesitating to raise the question he’d been wanting to ask, “With all this… do you regret getting married?”

“To Marius? In some ways yes, I mean in retrospect if I knew where he really was in his life and how he felt I don’t think I could’ve gone through with the marriage. But there was a lot of good stuff too, and memories I wouldn’t trade for anything. He really is a decent man, and so smart with that wonderfully peculiar sense of humor.” Marnie said as a few tears welled in in her eyes.

Michael reached over and put his arm around Marnie as she leaned on him.

“I wish I could hate him.” She said as she wiped away the tears, “This would be so much easier if I hated his fucking guts, but I don’t. I still love Marius, no matter how much of a fucking mess he’s made. But I didn’t deserve to have any of this shit happen to me either! Why couldn’t he do this when we were still living in that dump in downtown Burlington, or when the three of us shared that duplex in Richmond, or even that starter home in Starksboro. Why did he have to wait until we bought a nice ass house in Shelburne? The mortgage of which I am now stuck paying off alone! Why did he wait until I was thirty-four fucking years old?”

“I don’t think deserve has anything to do with it Marnie.”

“I know that Michael, thank you.” Marnie snapped

Michael wanted to cheer Marnie up without making it obvious. Then he thought back to the Richmond duplex as well.

“It wasn’t all bad friend, if nothing else we had some pretty good times in that duplex. You remember the night you had your future in-laws over for Cards Against Humanity?”

“Oh my God” Marnie said as she shook her head, “You were so wildly inappropriate.”

“They really didn’t care for my discussion of President Grant’s penis.”

Marnie couldn’t help but laugh now, “I thought Marius was going to die of embarrassment. It was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen. If I ever get engaged again you have to break old Grant out to my fiancé and any perspective in-laws, that will be the litmus test.”

“Of course, it will be my pleasure.”

“Thanks friend,” Marnie said, “You know there’s a part of me that hopes he finds whatever he’s looking for out there and never comes back. And if he did, I don’t know what I’d do, I really don’t.”

“Do you want to start walking around again?” Michael asked, “My butt is sound asleep.”

“Yeah we should,” Marnie replied, “And I’ve expended enough oxygen on my ex for one day… Thank you for listening.”

“Anytime friend,” Michael said as the two picked themselves and their trash up, “You know, we could go to Grant’s Tomb and I could unleash my story on unsuspecting tourists.”

“Memorable as I’m sure that would be it’s out on Manhattan, and if we’re going back there again it’ll be to try and find a place with good music and reasonably priced booze tonight.”

“That sounds like a plan. If that’s what we’re going to do we should head back to the hotel for a shower, change of clothes and probably a nap,” Michael said, before pausing a moment to ponder and continuing, “Actually, if you don’t mind I’d really like to walk on the Brooklyn Bridge, not across the whole thing but enough to get over the water.”

“Of course we can,” Marnie said, “though it would be a long walk back to the hotel from the bridge. Once we’re done up there could we grab a taxi?”

“We certainly can.”

The pair set off in search of the Brooklyn Bridge. Michael insisted that they didn’t need to use GPS on their phones, his intuition would lead them to where they needed to be. Marnie humored this for a little bit until she was sure they took the wrong path. She asked Michael to hold up a minute while she double checked.

“I hate to be a downer Michael but we’ve walked about a half mile out of our way.” Marnie said.

“Damn, I was sure I had the right direction.” Michael said as he took off his glasses to wipe the sweat off his face. When he put his glasses back on he saw a path leading to a wooded area and a black cast iron fence, “Ooh, I wonder if there’s a haunted house up there or something. Come on, let’s check it out.”

“Yes Michael, there’s a haunted house in Prospect Park.” Marnie laughed as she followed.

When they reached the gates there was no haunted house but, to Marnie’s surprise, Michael wasn’t too far off base.

“Friend’s Cemetery? Well, what do you know, sometimes you find graveyards in the darndest places.” Marnie said.

“Indeed… “Michael began, “And we definitely need to have a look.”

“What? Why Michael? Why do we NEED to explore a cemetery, let alone one that the sign says is NOT open to the public?”

“Is your curiosity not piqued? Here is a hidden cemetery in the middle of one of the biggest parks on the east coast, home to probably some of the earliest graves on the American continent. As a fellow history lover are you not the least bit curious?”

“Michael I don’t want to get arrested busting into some back-ass boneyard. If we’re to end up in the clink this weekend I insist it be for something more fun than that.”

“Do you see a security guard? Or CCTV cameras? No, and so long as we don’t disturb anything the worst that happens is we get told to scram. Now come on, I’ll give you a boost.”

Marnie shook her head but still approached Michael, who was waiting at a small section of fence between the cast iron main gate and barbed wire to give her a leg up.

“Jesus Christ, how have you talked me into doing this?”

“Because if Marius were here, he’d be breaking out in hives at the mere thought of this.”

Michael gave Marnie a countdown and boosted her up so high that Marnie flipped over the fence and landed squarely on her backside. Marnie groaned for a hot second before a forceful burst of natural wind escaped her and caused both of them to break out laughing.

“Are you alright? Did you land on Louie Armstrong over there?” Michael got out before sheer laughter prevented him from speaking.

Marnie gave Michael the finger as he tried to scale the fence himself, with all the grace of an Irishman after a three day bender. Michael hung by his belly at the top of the gate for a few seconds before he freed his shirt from the fencing and proceeded to summersault to within a foot of Marnie.

“That was a lot easier just a few years ago.” Michael groaned as he investigated the red marks on his stomach.

“We are a fine pair of misfits.” Marnie laughed as she helped pull Michael to his feet, “Let’s get this over with before anybody notices.”

The pair dusted themselves off and followed the path deeper into the leafy green woods. Surprisingly well maintained but relatively modest in terms of cemeteries, they wordlessly explored the old graves until Michael tugged Marnie’s arm and brought her attention to a seemingly innocuous headstone.

“That’s Montgomery Clift!” Michael exclaimed

“I’m sorry but I’m not familiar.” Marnie replied

“He was a movie star in the 50’s, one of the first true method actors. Have you never seen ‘From Here To Eternity’?”

“I confess I have not.” Marnie replied

“Ok, that’s number forty-seven added to our essential films to watch.”

“What happened to him? He was so young.”

“He was in a car accident in the late 50’s which not only disfigured his good looks but left him in considerable pain. Eventually the pills and booze consumed poor Monty, leading here.” Michael said as he gestured toward the headstone.

Marnie acknowledged this but her attention turned to a lone head stone under a tree and some weeds. She was mesmerized by the epitaph of one Kevin Phillips Bong which read That which you are, I once was. That which I am, you will be.

“How appropriately morbid.” Michael said as he joined Marnie at the headstone.

“Do you ever wonder what it’s going to be like, when the end comes?” Marnie asked

“I try not to, though these days when I have one of my weird dreams I do ponder,” Michael said.

“Weird dreams? What kind of weird dreams?”

“Maybe not the dreams themselves, but when I’m falling asleep or taking a nap I sometimes feel like an invisible hand is pulling my chest. Then I’ll have these really vivid dreams that I can’t remember much from when I wake up. Or sometimes when I’m driving I’ll get unreasonably anxious about nothing, or have something like a dissociative episode where I find it so odd that I’m driving, like I’m still in a dream or something.”

“Michael… have you considered talking to a doctor about any of this?” Marnie asked. Michael could see Marnie looked concerned, he hadn’t told anybody about this and didn’t want to put a downer on the trip so he tried to brighten up.

“I’ve had full blood work and two different EKG’s in the past 18 months and they couldn’t find anything of immediate concern. It’s just my anxiety acting up, I need to sleep more, drink less and try to get some exercise. Don’t worry about it.” Michael then decided now was the time to break out Robohon once more.

“Hey Robohon, give us some fun facts about the dead.”

“Guess what, Moke?”

“What Robohon?” Michael asked as Marnie shook her head

“A common misconception is that hair and fingernails keep growing after death. In fact, the skin underneath shrivels, giving the appearance of growth.”

“I really didn’t need that image in my head.” Marnie said.

“Guess what, Moke?”

“What you little freak?”

“The phrase saved by the bell dates back to the 19th century, when being buried alive was a real concern. Families or grave diggers would attach a string to the deceased’s finger and run it up to a bell above ground after burial. That way if the dead were not in fact dead, and awoke in the coffin, their movement would ring the bell so they could be dug up before suffocation.”

“Michael there is something seriously wrong with this robot.”

“I’m beginning to suspect that it’s possessed. That and it’s not even right. Saved by the bell is boxing slang, having nothing to do with strings and corpses, though being buried alive was a genuine concern before the 20th century, and they designed coffins and crypts specifically for that purpose. That doesn’t really happen anymore with modern morticians, but don’t you worry friend if you go before me I’ll make sure you’re really, most sincerely dead.”

“Friend you can’t imagine what a comfort that is to me, “Marnie laughed, “Out of curiosity how would you plan to accomplish that?”

“Simple, I’d place a speaker right next your head and play Slim Whitman’s ‘Indian Love Call’ so loud the walls would shake. An alive you would never tolerate that song for more than fifteen seconds.”

“Yep, that would do it. Any longer and my head would explode. You know, there is something you could actually do for me if I’m gone before you.”

“Really, what’s that?” Michael asked.

“You could use the word fuck during my eulogy.” Marnie replied

“Yes, fuck yes! I will absolutely do that.”

“I mean honestly, it needs to be as wildly inappropriate as you can make it. If they don’t at least threaten to throw you out of the funeral home or church I’d be disappointed.”

“You can count on me friend, I promise. And if I’m the first one off on my travels you have to do the same for me.”

“It is agreed.” Marnie said as she and Michael shook on it. “Can we please make our way back to civilization? That’s enough death for one day.”

The pair made a better showing getting back over the fence, using GPS to guide them to the correct paths through the park. Along the way they came upon a dog park where a woman, referring to herself as the human trampoline, bounced up and down to the delight of the dogs gathered to watch. She had what appeared to be kangaroo shoes on her hands and feet, along with custom made trampolines on her back and chest. She was wearing all pink and had a pink donation box in front of her. After being mesmerized by the tumbling and flying about Marnie asked this daredevil to elaborate. Whilst still bouncing, she explained that three years ago she had been diagnosed with stage three ovarian cancer. After being laid low by chemo treatments she was determined to bounce back, and that’s when she listened to Paul Simon’s ‘Graceland’ and got the idea. Now two years in full remission she goes around to parks in New York City and elsewhere on the east coast, to bounce with joy and raise money for the American Cancer Society. Marnie and Michael agreed that this was absolutely incredible and between them put a hundred dollars in the box.

They walked quietly for the rest of their time in the park, scenes from Marnie’s marriage, the graveyard and the human trampoline had given both a good deal to reflect on. When they finally exited the park a massive arch loomed before them. Michael explained that they were in Grand Army Plaza, and that was the Soldiers and Sailors Memorial Arch, dedicated in 1892 to all those who fought and died defending the United States during the Civil War. This lead Michael into a lengthy analysis of the war, specifically why Grant was the superior general to Lee, while they made their way up Flatbush Avenue and towards the bridge. Once they passed the Barclays Center they noticed the buildings growing larger and more modern, local businesses replaced by chains. They hung a left on Livingston Street before making a right on Boerum Place, the road that would lead them directly to the bridge.

“Robohon, give us a general fun fact.” Michael said as he and Marnie entered the pedestrian path for the bridge

“Guess what, Moke?”

“What Robohon?”

“The average human eats up to eight spiders in their sleep every year.”

“Gross! Seriously?” Marnie grimaced.

“Guess what, Moke?”

“What my new robotic overlord?”

“The average American adult carries between five to twenty pounds of compacted fecal matter in their colon and intestines at any given moment.”

“That is in no way accurate.” Michael shook his head

“Though it does give credence to the theory that every politician is full of shit.” Marnie laughed.

As the pair passed the metro station and turned the corner, the bridge itself started to unfurl. The afternoon haze increased, partially obscuring the taller skyscrapers just across the river in Manhattan. The two suspension towers of the Brooklyn Bridge rose like giants out of the mists of time, virtually unchanged since the day the bridge opened in 1883. As the promenade rose above the traffic and the pavement beneath their feet changed to wood, Michael closed his eyes and pictured what it must have been like that day more than a century ago, when dressed in their Sunday best New Yorkers first stepped out onto this marvel of the modern world. After passing under the first set of towers Michael and Marnie stopped and looked out over the East River.

“You don’t get views like this back home, I’ll give New York that.” Marnie said

“That’s the Manhattan Bridge in case you were wondering, and down there somewhere is the park bench Woody Allen got his famous shot for Manhattan, back when he was known more for film making than pedophilia.” Michael said

“You’re almost as bad as the damn robot.” Marnie laughed.

“Speak of the devil, hey Robohon what fun facts do you have about the Brooklyn Bridge?”

“Guess what, Moke.”

“What Robohon?”

“Over four million ships travel underneath the Brooklyn Bridge each year, in addition to approximately five billion gallons of raw sewage.”

“I guess that rules out an afternoon swim.” Michael chuckled

“Guess what, Moke?”

“What is it Robohon?”

“Did you know an average of thirty people a year attempt suicide by jumping off the Brooklyn Bridge?”

“Michael this robot is absolutely deranged.”

“You’re right Marnie.” Michael said, a queer look in his eyes as he picked Robohn out of its holder, “What are you saying Robohon? Are you trying to insinuate something with all your convenient little fun facts about death? Trying to get inside my head you little bastard?”

“Guess what, Moke?”

“No more! NO MORE! I cast thee into hell demon spawn!” Michael reared back with all his might and proceeded to hurl Robohon across the Manhattan bound lanes of traffic and over the edge of the bridge.

“Jesus Christ! What the fuck Michael?” Marnie shouted as she shoved him. A few fellow pedestrians stopped to gawk at the scene.

“I’m sorry Marnie but Robohon had to go.”

“And I’m with you there, but we could’ve tossed it in a dumpster or sold it on eBay, you didn’t have to throw it off the fucking bridge! What if that hits some poor soul in a boat down there? Or if somebody reports us to the cops and you spend the rest of the weekend in jail?”

“This is New York City, nobody gives a shit. Besides the thing was evil Marnie, would’ve just found its way back to us. It had to be destroyed.”

“Michael you are not well,” Marnie said shaking her head

“Friend I haven’t been well for a long time now.” Michael laughed, though even he couldn’t believe he’d just done that.

“This is not how I saw the day going,” Marnie cynically laughed as she gripped the bars on the top of the railing, “Not how I saw this weekend or this year going for that matter. How the fuck did we get here?”

“Well we drank a bunch, walked all over, saw some trippy shit in the park and have been conversing with a perverse robot for most of the day.”

“You know what I meant asshole.”

“I know friend, I know.” Michael said as he put an arm around Marnie and joined her at the railing. “The past couple of years have made my head spin, and I don’t know right side up anymore. I can’t even begin to conceive of what comes next, but one thing I do know friend, long as there’s you, me, and a bottle of Irish whiskey, I’ll face whatever comes with a grin.”

Marnie couldn’t help but laugh and put her arm around Michael as well. “Wouldn’t have it any other way Friend. You know, it occurs to me that we’re both single at the same time for the first time in a long time. We could have a lot of fun with this, turn bad dates into dinner theater like the old days. Can you still do that faux Liverpool accent?”

“Do you really have to ask?” Michael said with a grin.

“This could be the beginning of a beautiful time for us.” Marnie said as the pair turned to leave.

“The best of Times is now. What’s left of summer, but a faded rose? The best of times is now. As for tomorrow, well who knows? Who Knows.” Michael began to sing, and with a nudge Marnie joined in:

Marnie: “So hold this moment fast, and live and love as hard as you know how. “

Michael: “And make this moment last.”

Michael and Marnie: “Because the best of time is now, is now is now!”

Marnie and Michael spent their entire walk back to Brooklyn singing numbers from ‘La Cage,’ ‘Music Man’ and their other favorite musicals. The rest of the weekend was something of a blur. Marnie may or may not have delivered an impassioned rendition of ABBA’s ‘Take A Chance On Me’ that night in a Manhattan bar that was not designed for karaoke. Michael may or may not have danced the ‘Mashed Potato’ in the Revson Fountain in front of Lincoln Center at midnight. Who’s to say, alcohol and memory are strange bedfellows. What I can tell you is neither of them would be able to forget the steamy afternoon they spent ambling about the city, the laughter they had, the stories they shared, and the time that crazy bastard Michael threw a talking robot off the Brooklyn Bridge.