LITMIR.BIZ

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high off of all of the goods we had stolen off of people’s yards. Not knowing what to do with all of our merchandise, as our parents were sure to question where it all came from, I decided to leave it at the Starbucks that I worked at for safe keeping. I was one of the managers at the time, so I had a key and let myself in to drop off the goods. I scattered my goods throughout the Starbucks, leaving the Baby Jesus right by the cash register so everyone could bask in his glory as they were paying for their coffee.

      The next morning, my co-workers were stunned to see my loot throughout Starbucks but thought it was hilarious nonetheless. In fact, they thought it was so funny that someone drew a cup of coffee in the hand of the cardboard cutout of Baby Jesus and wrote “God Bless Starbucks” underneath it. Everybody loved the Baby J. He was like our new mascot.

      That evening, Stephanie, Evelyn and I met again, with full intentions for stealing a light up Baby Jesus. We got into Evelyn’s car, smoked a few joints and were on our way. We drove around the suburbs looking for a light up Baby Jesus. Since the employees of Starbucks had defiled our cardboard Baby Jesus, we had to move on and find something that would last forever. Our thievery had bonded the three of us and we were as thick as thieves now, literally. We drove around but could not find a light up baby Jesus. I resolved that we should go back to the church we had gone to the night before and try to steal the baby Jesus from there.

      Evelyn pulled up to the church. All was quiet as I hopped out of the car on ready for my mission. I crept onto the lawn of the church looking for any nuns that may be hiding out in the bushes. Baby Jesus was in eyeshot and I made a beeline for the nativity scene. Once I got there, I could see why Stephanie had so much trouble the night before. There were cords everywhere and navigating where each cord went was like making your way through a labyrinth. I managed to find the outlet, unplugged the Baby Jesus, grabbed the cord, and tossed the Baby J under my arm and ran back to Evelyn’s car. When I got into the car, Evelyn and Stephanie were laughing so hard, I thought they were going to throw-up.

      “Oh my God!” Evelyn said through her laughter, “that was the funniest thing I have ever seen.”

      Stephanie was laughing so hard that she could not even speak.

      “It was like you were carrying the Baby Jesus…” Evelyn continued laughing hysterically, “like…” she was laughing so hard, I didn’t know if she was still breathing, “a FOOTBALL!” She finally cried. I don’t know if she thought it was funny because it was a Baby Jesus I had under my arm or that fact that it was the closest I had ever come to actually looking like I had ever played a sport.

      The three of us sat in Evelyn’s car and laughed hysterically for the next few minutes. Happy with my latest conquest, I put the Baby Jesus on my dining room table and told my family that he was going to be our centerpiece for Christmas dinner that year. A few days later, Evelyn called me and told me to pick up the town newspaper because she thought I would get a kick out of it.

      I went to the corner and picked up the newspaper. I flipped through it until I got to the section where the headline read: “THE TRUTH ABOUT THE MISSING BABY JESUS.” My mouth dropped. I had finally made it into the newspaper, except, no one knew it was I who had stolen the Baby Jesus. The article chronicled the night that the Baby Jesus went missing from the local church and what they thought happened. They even had a reward for anyone who knew his whereabouts. Thinking my cheap brother might turn me in for cash, I knew I was going to have to put the Baby Jesus into seclusion. I laughed because I thought it was funny, but the people at the church were outraged by what had happened. Evelyn, Stephanie and I decided never to steal again, but that Christmas was one of the most magical times of my life.

      Where Are They Now?

      The Baby Jesus – The Baby J and I had a long lasting relationship. He came to New York with me, when I moved up there. He stayed with me in every apartment I moved to until his light bulb blew out, almost causing a small fire. I ended up throwing him away.

      The Black Santa – My little brother Kevin took care of the Black Santa for many years until he went to college and it was destroyed at a keg party.

      The Potted Swan – The potted swan enjoyed a long career in my front yard, until it too was stolen, possibly by its rightful owners.

      Frosty – Frosty enjoyed a long holiday career of entertaining the children on my father’s front yard. When my father realized he was Jewish, he threw Frosty away.

      Evelyn – Evelyn lives in Astoria, Queens in a building that is always decorated with Virgin Mary’s and Baby Jesus’ come Christmas time. I have tried stealing them on several occasions, but she will never let that happen.

      Stephanie – Stephanie now lives in Tampa and I think she is bisexual.

      I’M COMIN’ OUT!

      “Are you gay yet?” Jason asked me as I approached him on the corner of 72nd Street and Park Avenue. I had just moved to New York a few days before and Jason knew it was only a matter of time before I would come out of the closet. We had, after all, performed a medley of the songs of George M. Cohan together in high school chorus so I knew that he would not be surprised if I told him I was gay.

      “Not yet,” I replied and then realized I meant to say “no.” Jason smiled at me. “I know when I do come out of the closet that I definitely do not want to be outed at a T.G.I.Friday’s like you were.” A few years earlier, our friend Valerie outed Jason in front of all of our friends at a T.G.I.Friday’s after rehearsal for a show we were doing at the time.

      “Ha,” Jason laughed, “next time we are eating at a Bennigan’s, I will make sure that I let Valerie’s mother know what a huge vagina enthusiast she is.” We walked down the street and spoke about what our first days of college were like. Jason and I had been friends for a while in D.C., where we grew up and then moved to New York at the same time. I admired Jason because he was who he was and made no apologies for it. He was outed at a chain restaurant in Bethesda, Maryland, in front of a group of his peers and took it in stride. Nothing ever fazed him, but things were different in New York. I knew it was only a matter of time, before I joined Jason as an out homosexual, but I figured day four was a bit too early to come out and I was nervous about what the repercussions might be. Pretty much everyone in New York seemed gay, so I knew I would fit in immediately. I had moved to New York to go to school, but I also moved there to be myself. I was tired of D.C. and the way everyone always pretended to be something that they were not. I knew in New York, I could be whoever I wanted to be and would be accepted. As Jason and I discussed dorm life and how much we loved going to school in New York, he convinced me to go to a gay bar in the West Village where one of his friends from school was working.

      “I don’t know if I want to go to a gay bar,” I said.

      “Oh, whatever Mark. You are queerer than a three dollar bill,” Jason replied. “Just come. It does not mean that you are gay if you hang out in a gay bar. It will be fun.”

      Jason and I made our way down to the piano bar in the West Village. On the way, we passed a Ruby Tuesdays and although I was hungry, we did not stop to eat, as I was afraid Jason would out me. Once at the piano bar, I realized it was like nothing I had ever seen in my life. The bar was in the basement of a building and was pretty dingy looking. Inside the bar, gay men of every age, stood around a piano singing show-tunes and having a gay old time. Everyone seemed so comfortable with themselves and everyone looked like they were having a great time. Jason and I walked in and Jason went directly to the bar.

      “I’ll have a Jack and Coke,” he said. Jason, just barely out of high school and not old enough to legally buy cigarettes at this point, was given his drink as I watched in awe. “What do you want?” he asked me.

      “Uh,” I was trying to think of something exotic to drink. I was playing with the grown ups now and needed to order something a little fancy. “I’ll have a whisky sour, with lots of cherries.”

      The bartender winked at me and gave me my drink and bypassed looking at my fake ID. I was so excited to be in a gay bar, drinking and singing show-tunes. This was pretty much what I had imagined gay life in New York to be and I was thrilled to

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