Disclaimer – this is a work of fiction and in no way represents the actions of a real person
One day I was walking on the street and who did I see?
Jerry Seinfeld. Jerry Sucking Seinfeld. Would you believe it?
— Hey Jerry!
— It’s me.
— Wouldn’t you know it? Two Jews in Hollywood.
— Isn’t it?
I came prepared.
— Well actually… could you do me a favor?
— A favor?
— I’m busy, I don’t know if I can.
So I stood there shaking my head — Jerry Seinfeld wouldn’t do me a favor! I mean, what if he really was busy? What if he was so busy he barely had time for our conversation? That was definitely a possibility.
— Oh OK. Well bye!
His people cleaned his ears and he waved goodbye before walking off. I stood for a few minutes taking it all in… What a world.
Three days later I was on a bus packed with my peers and feeling off my rocker. Jerry Seinfeld had once more refused my favor.
Jerry doesn’t ride the bus though, it was elsewhere. A building somewhere in Los Angeles — otherwise known as the city of Los(t) Angels. I was in the elevator, riding to the top floor. Sometimes I would go all the way up and take the stairs down just to imagine what it would be like…
The door dinged and I scooted to the stairwell. My climb down was easy at first but I could feel gravity working against me. I began to sweat but stopped when, after a flight or two, I heard panting. I slowed my descent and peeked over the railing —
No pants there.
I would have continued my plunge but the pants reminded me of some trousers I had left behind. I backtracked back to the top of the stairs and was about to grab them when the door creaked open. Terrified, I stopped and counted on my fingers the number of times I’d been mugged in stairwells.
And wouldn’t you know it?
Jerry Seinfeld slid onto the landing.
Now I couldn’t tell if he recognized me or if I recognized him but I know we shared a moment… I just know it!
I averted my gaze and felt myself gasp — he wore his favorite pair of tennis shoes. I was about to comment but realized it would be inappropriate to acknowledge the apparent favor-itism. I instead chose to compliment his side-slung fanny pack as a pre-favor aperitif.
Right before I could speak, though, he disappeared.
It was the strangest thing.
I froze, stunned by his abrupt departure. The panting stopped and I came to my senses — I had a bus to catch. I turned back and leapt down the stairs two at a time. I exited the building with moments to spare. My ankle hurt by the end of it and it would have been alright but then again —
Jerry Seinfeld did me no favors.
The third time I saw Jerry was in the gym, jogging. He likes to call it “Jerry’s Gym” especially after he bought the place out. Something about not liking to workout at home and the sweat… I didn’t hear the whole conversation; I was just happy to be there.
He was dressed in a full tracksuit beneath a suit-suit all of which he calls the suit-suit-suit. Unable to locate the third suit, I tapped the two-way mirror but noticed he had his Jerry buds in and stopped. I couldn’t remember which way was two-way so I followed-up with a wave. I didn’t know what else to do so I flapped my hand until he finished his workout — about a mile — and left.
Could you believe it? Not a single favor. Not one.
— If it were the other way around, I would definitely do him a solid.
My voice echoed around the room.
— I like the sound of that. A solid for Jerry Seinfeld!
Favor town, population: 0.
I finally managed to corner Jerry again. No more disappearing acts nor hidden intentions — I was there dammit!
We were hiding in the shelter from the giant squid monster native to L.A. and found ourselves in a similar corner. I think we brushed shoulders? Yes that was it. He turned to apologize and noticed me as I noticed him. His lips moved to form the words but they didn’t quite make it. Mine were barely open — an inaudible gasp escaped.
We stood for a moment acknowledging each other; basking you could say. And the basking went both ways.
— Hey Jerry! It’s me!
I danced for him like I had danced before. Some mixture between Ballet and Capoeira that I had improvised during the yearly kosher chili cookoff. I couldn’t tell if he was amused or aroused but his face was a wall of cement.
— Or something like that.
— Well that’s alright I guess. Oh wait! I almost forgot to ask… Could you do me a favor?
At this point Jerry was speechless and actively avoided my gaze.
— Not even a little one?
— I don’t know.
A tentacle slammed through the ceiling and quickly retracted. I jumped as the debris enveloped us. A chunk of cement bounced off his temple, grazing it, before grazing my own — the perfect piece of cement. And here, I thought, was the ideal moment for Jerry Seinfeld —
To do me a favor.
He pulled out his first aid kit to patch everything up. I watched as he ritually unfurled the gauze, squeezed a shtickl of sporin, and globbed it all over his face. He then wrapped himself exactly three times and mumbled a catch phrase before depositing his goods back in the kit.
I stood there dumbfounded and bleeding. I could barely mutter my response.
— Poor favor.
Somewhere in the palette of dull grey, a child called out and I ran to see if it was mine. It wasn’t but when I returned, Jerry Seinfeld was gone.
And that was the last I ever saw of him. Would you believe it?
Jerry Seinfeld never did me any favors. Jerry Seinfeld never does anyone any favors.
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