There are some people you meet in life that are in the chorus
of your story and they remain there indefinitely. Such was the case with Mikki
Luckinbill for a time. I didn’t like her because she was irritating and was
clearly shtuping her way to the middle, but didn’t dislike her either because
that would involve caring.
Mikki was the quintessential divorcee who’s therapist
suggested she try comedy. It was because Dr. Finkelstein, her Park Avenue
shrink, was tired not only hearing about her successful Columbia psych
professor ex who was bopping a TA, but about the crabs she got afterwards.
According to her “act,” after the affair Mikki moved out of their Riverside Drive
apartment and back into the home of her parents: a doctor father who emigrated
from India and a debutante mother who went to Radcliffe when it existed and was
“rather disappointed” when Mikki was rejected by all the schools she applied to
and could only get into her safety, Skidmore.
Whenever she graced the stage, Mikki’s act was a monotonous
monologue that couldn’t even pass as tragedy, because alas, tragedy is
interesting. Listening to her after one minute made you consider slitting your
wrists, and after five minutes you wanted to draw up a warm bath and then throw
in the toaster.
Sucking onstage is one thing, but sucking off stage is
another, and Mikki was the master at both. A student of Jed Kemp, a one time
rising star who coked his comedy career away, he assured Mikki she would be the
next great female comedy superstar next to Chelsea Handler. It wasn’t because
Mikki had talent, it was because she was sleeping with him and would tell
anyone who listened.
As his star student and paramour, Mikki was all over Jed’s
website, giving testimonial videos clad in low cut dress that her melon breasts
hung out of. Acting as his ambassador, she tried to recruit other comedians to
be a part of this “school.” Then Mikki would try to get these students to sign
their friends up for a discount, thus creating a pyramid scheme that exploited
hopefuls. After a while, she said she wanted to dump Jed because he could only
get her so far and wanted a bigger fish.
Mikki was hard to stomach, but we also never had a bad
encounter. When I could I avoided her because she was annoying. If I saw her on
the street we would exchange a quick hi and kept it there, because that’s how you
treat a chorus person in your play, right?
However, Mikki was soon to be upgraded to guest star in a
dramatic arc lasting several episodes. Enter Isaac Rabinowitz, my on again/off
again flame who I had recently decided burned me for the last time. After a
series of events the complicated relationship had lost it’s luster and appeal. Finally,
to the relief of everyone around me, especially my mother, I ended it with
Isaac once and for all.
Isaac did not take it well. After a text where he accused me
of being “cold”, we had a long two hour phone conversation where I was forced
to hear about Isaac’s feelings, and I kept telling him to eat shit and go to
hell because I was sick of his mind games. Isaac said he wanted to be a part of
my life as my friend because he liked me as a person, and I believed him
because I felt some of the same.
Despite our differences, when it came to my comedy and my
puppets Isaac was always in my corner. As a comedian, every joke writing instinct
he had was completely and utterly wrong, but he had a sixth sense as to what
bookers would like my act, how to approach them, and ideas on how to guide my
career. In return, I was always gung ho to guest host his shitty open mic if he couldn’t make it. All and all, it was an
awesome development, or so I felt.
Don’t get me wrong, Isaac could be a pick but at least he
was an honorable one. Extending the olive branch, he invited me to do the guest
spot at his open mic which meant I didn’t have to pay $5 to perform. Arriving
at the club on that sweltering August day, it was a record breaking high. Not only
was the place jammed with sweaty hopefuls, but the air conditioner was broken
and the fans were going at full blast. To add to the ambiance, the place, which
usually smelled like rotten urine, had an extra pungent odor.
I was icky and grungy, because in addition to the smelly scene
the subway had broken and I was forced to trek thirty blocks with May Wilson in
tow. My makeup was messed up and my clothes were stuck to my body. If that’s not
a way to greet your most recent ex I don’t know what is. That’s when in walks
Mikki Luckinbill with her jet black hair styled just so and wearing a low cut white
dress, generous bosom bouncing with each step looking better than ever.
As his eyes caught site of her, Isaac ran over and was stuck
to her for the rest of the night like Gorilla Glue, leaving his usual hosting
corner so he could sit next to her. Smitten with his new squeeze, Isaac auspiciously
placed his hand on her leg. I wanted to vomit. Why did it have to be her? On
the other hand, it was making me realize I had done the right thing by ending
it. I knew better than anyone how Isaac could be. Now he was Mikki’s problem.
Sunday Isaac texted me to have brunch as friends. My
instincts told me not to go because the breakup was not only still fresh but I had
just started seeing a new guy, Sean, two days before. Isaac and I were just
friends, and if I wanted this friendship to work I had to give it a try, right?
I met Isaac at a diner in Murray Hill around the corner from
his apartment that his millionaire father financed. As we ate, we talked comedy
and our favorite mutual subject, The Marx Brothers. Bruch turned out to be more
fun than I thought it was going to be. I said, “I forgot how much fun you were
to hang out with.”
Isaac said, “Me too. I
am glad we are friends, April. It’s weird because we used to date.” My
instincts had been right after all, “Come on, April, you can’t just pretend we didn’t
used to date.”
“I am doing it right now. It’s not that hard, Isaac,” I
said.
“How can you say that? I still care about you.” Isaac said.
“Just stop with the games,” I said, angry at myself for not
seeing this was the usual Isaac trap of him reeling me back in, me taking the
bait, him hurting me and then the cycle repeating.
“Just so you know, I don’t want to get back with you anyway.
I am seeing Mikki Luckinbill. We were talking about you. We both agreed you are
self-absorbed, immature and are completely ruthless when it comes to your
ambition.”
Now I officially had enough, “I think Mikki is a better
match for you. She’s not funny and neither are you. And as for immature, I am
looking right at him. So I am going to be the adult and end this once and for
all. Have a nice life, Isaac because you are sure as hell dead to me.” I got
up, threw my napkin down, and walked out onto the busy New York City Streets
free of Isaac and his bullshit.
Two weeks later, Sean and I became engaged because why
settle for a love triangle when you can have good old fashioned soul crushing codependency?
Upon hearing about my engagement, Isaac became more determined than ever to win
me back. He began texting furiously, telling me he was only with Mikki because
he couldn’t have me, and if I said he the word he would dump her for real and
we could be together. I ignored him and even went so far as to block his number.
To no ones shock except my own, Sean turned out to be a
terrible fiancĂ©. Even on it’s best day, the relationship was text book dysfunctional.
Controlling and jealous, Sean made me choose between him and my puppets, and I
chose him feeling it was time I forget my dreams and become a good wife. When Isaac
heard about this development through mutual friends, he confronted Sean and the
two nearly got into a fistfight.
Isaac blamed himself for this development in my life. He
told anyone that would listen that had he been a better man to me I would never
be engaged to Sean. Of course as usual, Isaac was making everything about
himself. My bad decisions were my own and my own alone goshdarnit. Meanwhile,
Isaac was still seeing Mikki who was growing to steadily resent me.
Back at the ranch, Mikki was not only becoming increasingly
jealous of me, but tired of Isaac and his wandering eye. Sloppy as usual, Isaac
left his laptop open. This led Mikki to discover that in addition to trying to
win me back, Isaac was also seeing two other women: one was Emily, a childhood
sweetheart, and the other was my former friend Sharon, who he would later go on
to marry, and referred to her in their exchanges as his “girlfriend.” To compound the drama, Mikki had introduced Isaac
to her family at Thanksgiving the week before. If this is making you dizzy
reading this, try living it.
Mikki’s frustration came to head when she was onstage one
night at a show Isaac had produced. Unable to contain her age any longer, Mikki
exploded at Isaac confronting him about me, Emily, and Sharon. In front of a
free comedy show audience, Isaac denied the accusations. This infuriated Mikki
further as she laid into him about his epically small penis size. When her
verbal assault was finished, she hopped off the stage, slapped him across the
face, burst into tears and ran into the night. While I was not there to see it,
witnesses claim this was the funniest thing either had ever done.
I eventually dumped Sean, picked up my puppets, and recommitted
myself to becoming a professional ventriloquist. Fortunately I was able to shake
that mistake, and it got me a Daily Mail UK article that went viral before
COVID made it cool. Each of the other players in this dramatic story faded into
the background.
That is, until years later when I saw Mikki at an audition. At
first I was shocked because it had been so long, but I was also glad to see she
was still in the game. She still looked the same, except the low cut clothing was
replaced by an all black motif that most first year drama students wear to look
tortured and emotive as they wax nostalgic about Shakespeare and Chekhov.
Because time plus distance equals comedy, I had developed a
sense of humor about those painful early days and regarded them as coming of
age follies. When I gave her the big hello, she looked at me as if I was the Baby
Ruth that invaded her pool party. She said, “I will have you know that I am
doing well. Really well. I have an MFA in Acting.”
Before I could respond back she snarled and stomped off. For the heck of it, I went to her facebook
page to see what she had been to later that day. In a five paragraph rant, she
talked about seeing “the ghost from her past who was the succubus who seduced
her boyfriend once upon a moon.” Then she called me “fame hungry” and said I was
used, “as a regular Method substitution for an evil person.”
In honor of the completion of Mikki’s MFA in Acting I will
quote he late, great William Shakespeare, “Life is a tale told by an idiot. The
sound and the fury signifying nothing.” With that, I logged off the computer
and relegated her back into the chorus of my story.