When news of the hurricane called Ivan got worse and worse, I spent a good portion of each day and night clutching my Rosary and saying thousands of Hail Marys in an effort to spare Citizen Jim and the rest of my friends and loved ones in Alabama the wrath of this awful force of nature.

My heart lightened when I finally heard from Citizen Jim. I'd meant to ask him if he would still be making the only trip to West Virginia that we'd ever planned jointly, but he didn't give me a chance.

"That hurricane was the biggest bunch of bullshit I've ever seen! Missed us by fifty yards! And now I'm waiting in line for three hours just to get a sandwich made of spoiled luncheon meat and wilted pickles from those carpetbaggers at Mary Ann's Deli!" said he. Then he hung up.

Once I heard that the Pensacola airport was closed due to the horrific damage it sustained from Ivan, I took for granted that Citizen Jim would not be making any trips to see me until things were back to normal along the northern Gulf Coast.

It would just figure that the one time Jim decided to pay for a flight to bring him to my home expediently and without criminal incident, the airport would be destroyed by the fury of God.

My partner Miss Mabel tried to comfort me. "Baby, don't worry. He can always reschedule his flight," said she. "Besides, wouldn't you rather he arrive safely than not at all?"

I told her I'd have to think about it.

Deluxe UNO in a Tin

That evening, while we wound down with a bottle of wine and a few blood-and-guts hands of UNO, we heard a crash outside on the street, followed by a loud explosion.

We paid no attention, as the people who lived on the corner of our street were always spinning their tires, blasting their radios, throwing lit sticks of dynamite into passing cars, shooting cap guns, and cracking huge wads of bubblegum with their back teeth.

We weren't even surprised when we heard a bloodcurdling scream, as the three-year-old across the street used, at all times, screaming as a means of communicating joy and pleasure and happiness with the state of her short life.

I threw down a Wild Draw Four card and said "UNO! BLUE!" when someone started banging on the door. I was afraid to turn my head for fear that Miss Mabel would pull her favorite trick when she was about to lose a hand. This trick involved distracting me right before swiping all the UNO cards off the table and then claiming she'd only had "zero" cards in her hand.

I ignored the noise coming from right outside our front door, while Mister Meme stood at the top of the stairs like a Golden Retriever pointing at a duck in the underbrush, not moving even as Citizen Jim shot up the stairs and jumped over his head.

"Your new windshield is still in one piece, and you have ME TO THANK, you ungrateful IDIOT!" yelled Jim, waving a hammer dangerously close to my face.

When I turned my eyes toward Jim for one second, Miss Mabel's hands shot out, sending all the cards we'd put into play during the previous hand flying over the edge of the table.

"You can lay down your last card, now," said she, picking up her pen and holding it above the score pad. "But I only had a bunch of zeroes, anyway."

"HEY! I am TALKING TO YOU!" yelled Jim. "What's more important? Playing UNO or saying hello to me after I stopped some little vandal from smashing your windshield in with a hammer?"

"Thank you!" said I. "I'm just in shock that you're really here! How on Earth did you get here?"

"Well, it wasn't a FUN trip, that's for damned sure," said he. He threw the hammer over his shoulder, not even flinching when it shattered the glass behind him as it flew out the window. A moment later, we heard glass shatter a second time.

"What's in the bag? Sit down and relax, Precious Lamb," said I.

Jim had fashioned a bag from a pillowcase, which was slung over his shoulder. Every time he shifted from one foot to the other, the bag clunked and rattled as if were full of metal.

"I don't have time to sit down! I need to get Dudie's aeroplane back to Fairhope PRONTO, so that the guys at the airport out on County Road 33 can put it back together," said Jim, shaking the pillowcase. "Flying that old antique piece of shit was easy—it's landing those damned things that's a bitch! I lost my leather goggles AND my scarf by the time I touched down in front of your apartment."

"Ah! So that was the crash we heard out there! We thought it was the Viet Nam veteran driving his turbocharged Rascal under the influence of mescaline again," said Miss Mabel.

"No, YOU thought that's what the crash was. I said I was pretty sure a couple of cars had hit head-on trying to avoid that stupid cat that's always asleep in the middle of the street," said I.

Jim stomped his foot. "Well, you were both wrong! That was ME! But I was too busy trying to keep your WINDSHIELD FROM GETTING SMASHED to worry about my goggles and my scarf!"

"You must be the best friend anybody could have in the whole world," said Miss Mabel as she began setting fire to a short stack of Wild Draw Four cards from our UNO deck.

"Well, maybe I am," said Jim, then turned to me and readied his fingers to poke me in the eye. "But YOU'LL NEVER APPRECIATE IT! Good-bye!"

Then he turned on his heel and started down the stairs, with Dudie's aeroplane clanking in the pillowcase that he now dragged down the stairs behind him.

After I watched him turn the corner of Whiting Avenue, I noticed a huge hole in the windshield of my car, and a hammer covered in glass lying on the driver seat. Curled up atop the glass and the hammer was the cat that was usually stretched out and snoozing on the yellow line of the street in front of our apartment.

But I had to turn my attention to Miss Mabel to ensure she didn't cheat during her deal of the cards.

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