ebook (teaser)
Prospect Park Stories
Chapter 1
My product is unusual. You need to know me to understand that I mean business and business means me. My name's Gareth and I'm from New Zealand. I came to New York eight years ago. Customer satisfaction is what I like the best about my job. You're wondering about my customers. Journalists often ask me about my favorite story. I have plenty of them. What I like best is when people get back together. Couples fall into each other's arms. That makes me a better man. I remember the divorced couple. They hadn't seen each other in years and ran into each other at the corner candy store. She saw him in the corner of her eye. That's a lyrical story. Don't be surprised, I'm often moved. After all, it's not a coincidence that I sell air packaged in bags.
It's the air people are most in need of. Ever since we launched the online sales, we've been shipping our air balloons to our customers. Who orders them the most often? Lonely people. Works better than Prozac. Better than Jesus. My whole life I’d been dreaming of running a green grocery stand, I became one of those farmers who fell into the ecology trap. I sold my produce here, at Grand Army Plaza, every Saturday. After Dekalb Market had opened in downtown Brooklyn, I rented one of the shipping containers. It was there that the transformation started. Hardly anyone was interested in fruit and vegetables. Alcohol was the main fare, then coffee.
Lacing oneself up with antidepressants is a veritable plague in New York City. Anti-depressants, taken by the score, and then entering the water via urine in large quantities, have been recognized as an ecological threat. I myself would visit a psychiatrist by then, apart from taking a whole array of drugs, mostly Prozac. But also Xanax, the most addictive one. I went bankrupt in peace. My business was falling apart, so I swallowed my pills and stayed calm. That’s when I grew this belly. I ate meat pies, that’s a New Zealand fast food. I ate them, ‘cause I felt sad. After a failed season, I went to visit my fianceé in Villefranche-sur-Saône. I stood on the bridge, looked over the bay, and breathed. Standing on a bridge is the best therapy. I found joy then, in cooking. I abandoned driving, rode a bicycle, I did everything more slowly, and, paradoxically, I had more time.
It was then that it got to me – in France and in New Zealand, the air is fresh, that’s why people are healthier, more calm. Maybe even less ambitious, but hard-working all the same. You get it?
Sure, initially I’d ship the air over the sea, as it’s cheaper. Yes, we call this mode of shipment eco air. We deliver the oxygen to customers by bicycle courier. But hold on, we didn’t immediately produce that air, first there were costs. Import-export, the normal. And what tips! I’d import other products to France, I had a great price margin. When I realized I made more money in New York, I left Europe and expanded my business.
I collaborated with a Jewish scientist. Gibertyk helped me tremendously. I might say I owe my success to him. We developed an oxygen therapy. Peace transformation. A composition of vitamins and microelements. The secret lies, of course, in the holistic approach to an individual. Our customers couldn’t get addicted to oxygen as they were already addicts. Primum non nocere. A healthy product. Enhanced, but crystal clear. How did I became one of the richest people in New York? Messages from representatives in Hollywood and Washington DC started flowing in. At first, we had problems with the Russian mafia, but it was the Mexicans who kidnapped Gibertyk. From what I know he told them everything. He still lives at Borough Park. We’re friends, I bought him a villa in
the Bahamas. He went there, liked it, but came back after two weeks. He’s a man of action. I know they cloned him in Puerto Rico. Against his will.
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