When Maggie's cat Ubu died, she was hard put to know what to do with his body. She was working nights at the time, so she took his frozen body to work, which was driving an ambulance as a paramedic. She figured she'd dig a little grave in Central Park. They were always busy, however, & a few days bringing him home every morning & putting him back in the freezer harshed her mellow. I said why don't you tie him to a concrete block & toss him into the East River ~ if that's good enough for the Mafia, it's good enough for Ubu Dubris. He was kind of a Mafia cat anyway ~ you didn't turn your back on Ubu. Then we thought we would bury him in the Marble Cemetery on 2nd Street. We went out around midnight one night. The minute we started climbing the tall fence, window after window was slammed open. Hey! Get away from there! I'm calling the cops! We'd forgotten that midnight in the East Village is high noon. Anticlimactically, he ended up in a friend's parking lot on Clinton Street, which I suppose is a fancy restaurant these days.
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