|CREATED BY MERV GRIFFIN, "JEOPARDY," HAS AIRED OVER 9,000 EPISODES SINCE ITS DEBUT IN MARCH 1964.|
He lived up to those names during one of our walks to school. He told me that his Waspy, Nanuet friends got him into drinking mint gin. Then like a commercial he said, "Plus, it's only two bucks, tastes great and makes you feel good." A few days later, at a moment of weakness and curiosity, I let myself get lured into the web of stupidity by his spider-like, multi-example rationale, (in retrospect, I think he only needed me, for my dollar).
Like bedbugs waiting to jump onto a victim, we staked-out the liquor store next to the Bamboo Lounge, (on Avenue N at Locust).
|IN THE MOVIE, "GOODFELLAS," THE BAMBOO LOUNGE'S FACADE WAS USED DURING THE NIGHT CLUB FIRE BOMBING SCENE. THE LIQUOR STORE THAT WAS TO PURVEY OUR GIN, IS OFF-CAMERA, TWO DOORS DOWN FROM THE TUXEDO STORE.|
Otter finally approached a man wearing a Beetles tee-shirt and asked him to buy us the pint. When he agreed, Stew handed over my dollar bill and his fist full of change, (including pennies).
I'm guessing the man wanted to teach us lesson. He said they were out of mint gin so he got us "almost the same thing," lemon gin. I never had Castor oil but lemon gin was worse than any all-purpose, icky-tasting medicine I ever had forced down my throat...but I swilled it anyway.
At about 2:00AM, we were wasted, sitting on the steps in front of the Charcoal Chef Restaurant by the Seaview Theater. A neighbor spotted me, dragged me home and woke my folks.
Like a hornet's nest in my head, the next day's hangover, vomiting session and lingering dry heaves were nothing compared to my parent's tongue lashing. I never got that messed-up, EVER again!...till many years later.
Otter was now off limits. Like a pesky gnat, he followed me around school and begged my forgiveness. Eventually, I let down my guard. I defied my parents and allowed him back into my trust...even after he lit up a roach on our first walk home. Soon, I found out that mom was still right about Otter.
At the same time, I was dating a girl who confided in me that she once used a handful of sleeping pills to attempt suicide. They rushed her to the hospital and saved her life by pumping her stomach. I told Otter. "Mosquito Stew," stung me again. Whether it was out of jealousy, ignorance or disbelief...I'll never know...but he found her and asked her about it. She was insulted that someone in her circle had betrayed her trust. She demanded to know how he knew. I'm certain she didn't have to resort to Chinese water torture when Otter broke down and fingered me. I liked her a lot so it killed me to be called a termite when she cut me loose. I asked, "Why?" She said, "Ask 'Mr. Booze-Breath.'"
When he confessed, I went off on him and permanently ended our relationship.
Forty years later, (the other day), a Facebook friend brought up Otter's name. The thing I found most curious was that Otter fulfilled his father's, "Dr. Ott" wish. Apparently, Stewart Ott obtained a doctorate in entomology and has been studying insects...forever. He travels all over the world and at some point in 2011, he was on a polar expedition near the South Pole. It wouldn't shock me to find out that the good doctor was cruel to his trophy wife and makes her bore the holes into the Antarctic's frozen tundra.
Too much time has passed and even from a distance, I'm not interested in tracking Otter down. But if I ever found myself confronted by him, in respect to my mom, I'd have to call him, "Dr. Baby Ott." However, in a strange twist of fate, I researched every derivative of Ivan Cure...and it looks like, he never reached his self-proclaimed, "I. Cure," prophesy to be a doctor, dentist or even an exterminator.