Pomegranate — 19- Marc heads to Jersey

Marc headed out to Jersey. Been a while since he’s been there.  He loved the shore.  He and his boys used to go stroll Seaside’s boardwalk and dined on its finest grease.  Lately, he spends a lot of time on Coney Island’s Cyclone. However, he needed to see some Jersey girls.  He dated a few.

He got off the Garden State Parkway, took his beach blanket and laid out at Seaside. He was being good today and brought a sandwich from Seasons in Kew Garden Hills.  His Talmudic studies were strengthening him.  Eventually, he got bored and tossed the chair into his car and went to one of the arcades, played some games and wound up sipping a Sierra Nevada at one of the bars that was blasting a mix of the Boss, Bon Jovi, U2 and the Stones.

Everything was going just fine.  He was dancing with some cutie clad in jean shorts, a t-shirt and white Keds.  Some guy came up to him and told him to leave his girl alone.  He ignored the guy and kept dancing.  He wasn’t a good dancer.  But he tried.

The girl started kissing Marc.  Of course, Marc reciprocated.  “Instant Club Hit” was blaring over the speakers. The bar was getting sloppy.  The two left and were strolling hand in hand down the boardwalk.  Marc was feeling great.  Wasn’t sure if this meant anything. But it was a break from Alana and Jen.

All of a sudden Marc was grabbed from behind and tossed to the floor.  His newfound love, Michelle was punched in the face.  This was courtesy of the guy who yelled at Marc before.  A few of his friends were there.  They were laughing and taunting Marc and Michelle.

One of them took out a switchblade. Marc was silently laughing.  Michelle was crying.  Marc got up.  The guy with the knife ran toward him.  Marc flexed his muscles.  The guy was charging full speed ahead.

As the guy tried stab Marc, honey was oozing out of Marc’s eyes at a high speed.  It hit the knife wielder’s hands pretty hard. Marc kicked him in the jaw. The guy was down for the count. The guy’s buds backed off. They did not back off for too long.  The guy who started this mess never met Michelle.  She told Marc that while they were dancing. They tried to grab Michelle.

Marc jumped in and launched barley.  It temporarily blinded them. He kicked them to the ground.  He realized he needs to leave them be.  He did enough damage.  He figured he needed to high tail it back to the city.

The drunken crowd who was watching and probably recording this melee was walking away.  Marc felt bad for Michelle. He saw her crying by herself on a bench. She was a little bloody and bruised.  He didn’t know what to do. She must have witnessed his antics.



Pomengranate – 18

Marc was sitting on his chair with his Talmud. He took a break from seeing his “girlfriends”. He kept working, going to the gym, watching baseball and praying. Years ago, an older rabbi, who happens to be kohanim told him to spend more time learning. He told him stories about how it helped other folks.

He decided to give it a shot. He read quite a bit about the blessings, Shabbos and fruits of the Holy Land. He found himself getting stronger. He still questioned things. But he read about his weapons — barley, honey and pomegranates and their importance. He found himself eating these items more often.

He hadn’t had to fight anyone one in a few weeks. But he trained and found when he shot out his weapons (he practiced in his apartment) they were hitting their targets with more finesse. He did find strength in the spirituality of things. That’s why as a scout he loved the Order of the Arrow’s rituals so much.

He put his Talmud down and hopped into his car. On his ride up to his old college campus, he planned his next trip to Jerusalem.

He drove down Main Street and saw the same bars he went to as a college kid. He saw some new ones in the place of the old haunts. And of course, “Gourmet Pizza” was still there. “Wings and Things” was gone.

He exited his vehicle and walked across campus. He was in awe of the new buildings, both residence halls and academic centers. He went to the bridges that sat above the famous “gunk”. Thoughts drifted back into his head when he was a pledge and had to say a poem and bow before crossing each bridge.

He remembered when some of his friends puked their guts up into the gunk, watching some of the tougher frats and sororities make their pledges jump in. And some special moments he had with his girlfriend on one of the bridges. Those were the days. He spent a few hours walking across campus.

Meanwhile, Jen was sitting at her piano. She hadn’t played in a long time. But decided she would practice and maybe play one night in a bar. Alana was strolling Soho. Siouxsie and the Banshees were playing on her phone. She had flashbacks to when she dressed like Siouxsie Sioux. She went to a yoga spa. She’d been going there for a few days. She found it unwinding. And she felt her powers growing as she was deep in her posture.

She had her night with Tzipora deeply embedded in her mind. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to try again. She considered herself very fortunate that she had the chance. She wondered if she should meet some new guy, settle down and have a kid. Her clock is ticking. So is Jen’s.

Pomengranate — 17- Alana’s love scene

It was around 3:00 a.m., Marc was twisting and turning. He was not much of a sleeper. R.E.M. was playing in his bedroom.  He grabbed his iPhone couldn’t decide who to text.

“Hey, Alana, how are you?”

Alana and Tzipora were cuddling in Tzipora’s bed in her Soho loft.  Alana had never slept with a woman.  But she was enjoying the moment.  As they were whispering in each other’s ears, Alana’s phone blasted, “Love will Tear us Apart.”

“I bet ‘ya that’s Marc, isn’t Alana”?

Alana smiled and breathed deeply. Tzipora knew the answer.  She held Alana tighter.

“So how fast are you going to jump out my bed and run to the boy?”

Alana laughed.  She kissed Tzipora.

“Well, you’ve known me all my life. So you know I am going to see him again.  We will likely fight. Did you see me in the bar when that guy started harassing Stacey?”

“Yeah.  What are you?”

“I don’t know. But you must keep it a secret.”

“I promise I will. And you must keep our current interlude quiet. I know this is virgin territory for you.  But I hope we can try again.  It might help you. “


They looked at each other and dozed off.  They woke a few hours later, showered together and went to the bagel store.  They gave each other the typical girlfriend goodbye kiss and walked off.

Alana texted Marc, “Hey, just finished breakfast. What are you up?”

Jen was down the block.

Pomengranate – 16

Alana was at work.  She was feeling peaceful. Some of her volunteer groups annoyed her. But that’s life. The world hasn’t rotated off its axis.  After work was girl’s night. She and a few of her girlfriends were meeting in an Alphabet City bar for drinks and to hear music.

She moseyed through her day and left for the bar.  Stacey, Ellen and Tzipora were at the bar when she arrived. Girlie cocktails and beer were flowing.  Eighties tunes were cranking. Eventually, a band would take the stage.

The ladies ordered some veggie burgers.  None of them needed to worry about their figures. They were all in great shape. They’ve been friends since elementary school.

Their conversations ranged from the market, music, work and guys.  And girls, as Tzipora, is bi.  The night was a typical NYC bar night. Some guys started flirting with the ladies. The ladies smile and sipped their beverages. A few ladies started flirting with them, too.  The ladies were hot. They loved getting hit on by everyone.

A drunken jock started hitting on them. Weird. Not that he was hitting on them but this was far from the bar that these types hung. The place was much more artsy and alternative. The TVs were not playing sports, rather music videos and dance. Alana took it all in stride. She was feeling happy.

The guy went after Stacey, the quieter girl of the crew.  She was pleased. She has a hard time meeting guys. But she wasn’t sure if this how she wants to meet her beshert.  The guy put his hands on her shoulders and tried to kiss her. She got scared.  Alana was a little tipsy at the time. The other ladies were engaged in a deep conversation about today’s political environment. Funny enough they were in a very artsy liberal bar and are fairly conservative.  They didn’t care about the social issues. But are very business conservative and nationalistic.

Stacey asked the guy to walk away.  He started screaming at her. The bar was quite loud. The bartender and security guard heard and saw nothing. The guy tried to touch her again.

As soon as his hands tried to grab her, Alana slammed down her cocktail glass on the bar.  Her whole body tensed.  Her peace ended.  She walked right up to the guy.

“Leave my girl alone,” she belted out.

“What are you gonna do about it?” he screamed as he shoved his way toward Alana and flexed his muscles.   Big mistake. As he was posing Alana shot a stream of pomegranate wine out of her eyes.  She hit him the eyes and all over his football jersey.  He fell down. But got up.  He wiped his eyes out and tried to punch Alana. She laughed. As he tried to put his fist in her face, a vine of figs came out of her mouth. They wrapped around his neck. He began to choke. He fell down.

Alana looked at her friends and decided it was time for her to go. As she raced to the door, Tzipora trailed her.  They smiled at each other, embraced and their lips locked.

Pomegranate — 15

Jen was loafing aimlessly around the city. She has her music blasting on her iPhone. She went to J.Crew bought a skirt and some other items. She was thinking about reaching out to Marc again. But was confused. She knew she liked him. And she knew she didn’t. It wasn’t that she didn’t like him. She knew he probably wasn’t her match.

He was acting weird lately. She knew it was because of Alana. She thought to herself they think I am so dumb and daffy. Daffy, I am. But not dumb. I know they have something going. They always will. But so do I.

She got some ice cream and looked at shots of she and Marc on her iPhone. They were from many years ago. She saw the shots of them at concerts and their Delaware rafting trip.

She wanted to be happy and break away from her current situation.

Just as she wanted to break away so did Marc and Alana. But the three of them have been entangled in their web for years. What will it take to spin out?

Meanwhile, Marc was heading up to watch his beloved Yankees take on the Red Sox. As always the two teams were fighting for the division. Marc was walking along the sacred grounds where the old stadium resided. Tears were in his eyes. They always were at this holy spot.

His mind was set on the game. But as always he was thinking about Jen and Alana. He thought his couple of days in camp would break him away. His break lasted for about two weeks. He went into the Stadium and purchased his hot dog, Pepsi and knish. He washed his hands, went to his seat and dug in. He hoped the game would change the course of his life. Baseball can do that.



Pomegranate — 14

The two got themselves to Clarke’s. Alana’s black jeans were torn. Her hair was a mess. Marc was not better.

They stared at each other. Neither was in the mood for another fight.

Alana ordered a Sierra Nevada and a burger. She was not being good to her faith. In fact, she was becoming faithless. Marc ordered fish and chips with a Stella. He knew it wasn’t kosher. But he knew it was a kosher fish and potatoes are potatoes. At least, the bottled beer was fine.

“Well, good boy what’s up with us? Oh and Jen???”

Marc smiled, as he sipped his brew.   He planted his fork into the codfish.

She was about to smash her bottle of beer on Marc’s head, when a fight broke out at the bar. The two looked at each other. They had no desire to stop the fight.

In their minds they both knew they were either going to fight each other and have makeup sex. Or just fight.

They ate, sipped their beers, split the tab and left.

They embraced before heading to the train station.


Pomegranate — 13

Marc and Alana got off their trains. Each hoped their “meeting” would not be as horrendous as their prior two. Before heading over to Clarke’s they went to their respective banks.

They both smelled smoke and saw a haze in the air. It was emanating from the direction of the U.N. Their eyes wandered that way. The smoke thickened. Normal people would have walk in another direction. But they headed toward the source of the fire.

There were a few madmen and women lighting trash cans on fire while ranting about the world. Sirens were heard in the background.

Marc and Alana raced toward the criminals. Alana knew she couldn’t shoot wine. It would make the fire burn brighter. But she knew she had to do something. Marc saw them. He didn’t want to get dirty. He was in his favorite Lacoste shirt and Gap jeans. He wanted to look nice for Alana. He had no reason why.  He knew he had to stop this madness.

One of the crazies bumped into him. He pushed her away. She charged into him. He ducked. He had no desire to expose his powers at the UN. Alana was trying to put out one of the fires, when someone picked up a flaming trash can and tossed it at her.

She went nuts. She kicked the can down. But got minor burns on her legs. The person who threw the can was laughing. She ran up to him and punched him so hard. His mouth fell wide open. She unleashed pounds of figs down his throat. He fell down and choked. He passed out. She walked away from him.

Meanwhile, Marc was engaged in a fight with the woman who shoved him. She was throwing garbage at him. His arms bulged. He opened his hands as pomegranates flew out his palms. Several hit the woman right in her head. He shot barley and honey. Finally, he entangled her in his weapons. She started crying. He checked to see if she was ok. As he turned around to run an EMT was racing toward them.

He knew he had to be swift. Alana was racing ahead and shooting wine at a woman who was wielding a machete. She usually fought with grape wine. But started drinking an amazing Israeli pomegranate wine and added it to her repertoire. She knew she would probably hit Marc with it. But wanted to practice to make sure it was effective.

The two kept at it. The NYPD eventually arrived. One of them tripped over one of the trashcans.

Marc and Alana started running toward Clarke’s. They were texting each other that they’d be late for their get together. But both understood why.