3 Mulligans

My first day as a writer at SNL and I couldn’t think of anything. I walked down the main hall marveling at all the pictures of previous cast members. I noticed Jay Mohr and his bodyguard at the end of the hall walking toward me. It was January and he was wearing a long black coat and black leather gloves. I also had on my coat and gloves. As he approached, our eyes made contact. “Jay Mohr!” I yelled. “I’m Kevin Becker, a new writer here.” “Hi, glad to meet you,” he said. We shook hands and let go. Then, our eyes locked in slow motion, our stares burying deep. We slipped off our gloves slowly, slowly. Then, our hands jammed together and locked into a tight grip, writhing around forcefully, squeezing, releasing, fingers throbbing, almost letting go then jamming back together. Interrupting the process I heard, “Uh, okay. I gotta run. You can let go now.” As Jay and his bodyguard walked away I was left standing there, stunned and already feeling like I wished it never happened. I looked back at him walking down that hall, but just before reaching the door his head turned and he winked.

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