Disclaimer: I own not a notion. I rent. Though Rent may be starting to own me. Also, I don't own the Monty Python skit which does exist. You can find it on and I highly recommend it. I laughed...really hard.. It's called "International Philosophy".

1:00-2:00

The loft door slid open with a bang and a tall African American man came bounding in. Mark jumped slightly startled. He hadn't known Collins very long, but he had never seen him this happy before. And Collins was always happy in the week Mark had known the man.

"Good afternoon fellow roommate. And a good afternoon it is. You see, I just had my last section for the semester and am officially done reading papers written by undergrads that couldn't pass a grammar test if their lives depended on it. No more snoring midway through my lecture, no more blank stares. Just three months of glorious celebration and a real chance to get some work done on my dissertation. Three beautiful months!"

Mark smiled, "So I take it we're celebrating tonight?"

"Why wait? Let's celebrate now! Hell, I already started," He pulled a bottle of Stoli from his coat pocket and waved it in front of Mark's face, "Get the glasses and I'll pour. We'll toast to summer. We'll toast to Bohemia. We'll toast to men. We'll toast to women, for you. We'll toast to your camera. We'll toast to all the philosophers that have ever lived. Who cares? Let's get piss-ass drunk!"

"Okay, okay. Let me get cups first." Mark laughed at Collins' giddiness. It was down-right infectious. As he placed the paper cups on the table and Collins began to pour, it dawned on Mark that this would be the first time he had ever spent time with Collins alone. Every other time they had been together, Roger and Benny were with them. They went to the Life Café for dinner together, took in the sights and sounds of the Cat Scratch Club together and played poker two nights in a row. But Mark had yet to get to know Collins without Roger and Benny around. This would be an interesting day.

Mark knew a few things about Collins. He knew that Collins was gay and that he was HIV positive. Collins had made those facts known the day that Roger and Mark had contacted him about moving into the loft. Bluntly, he asked them if that would be a problem and both had emphatic answers to the negative. Something like that didn't define a friendship and that was what Mark and Roger had hoped for from Collins. He appeared, at first blush, laid-back, intelligent and fun-loving. There was literally no way on this earth that a person couldn't like Collins. Mark came to that conclusion in the first five seconds of meeting him and so far, he hadn't been wrong.

"Here's to everything I mentioned before and to all other shit that matters. And to new roommates, searching for their purpose in the unforgiving, but amazing land of Bohemia" Collins raised his cup and tapped it with Mark's.

"Amen." One quick swallow and the vodka was gone and the cups were quickly refilled.

"Cohen. That sounds Jewish to me." Collins tossed back his Stoli and grinned.

"It is. Would you have preferred Mazel Tov?"

"Hey, whatever floats your boat. Who am I to say that you have to stick to the confines of religion?"

"Yeah, aren't you in favor of anarchy?" Both Mark and Collins collapsed on the couch, facing each other.

"Hell yes. Why should we, the people, be controlled by those who don't represent fairly the nation's population? We need a revolution. We need to rise up against the forces of organized politics and make them realize that we're sick of their party politics and we're not going to take it anymore!" Collins voice rose and his last words rang out triumphantly throughout the loft.

"Okay, so anarchy. Got that. What else gets Thomas B. Collins excited?" Mark figured that he might as well play the "get to know you game" as long as Collins was in such a sharing mood.

"A hot guy with a nice ass in tight jeans," Collins glanced at Mark and laughed, "Sorry, was that too much information?"

"I meant…well, I guess that qualifies. Maybe I should re-word my last question. What else are you passionate about?"

"What is this, twenty questions? If I have to play so do you. And being as I've already answered one of your questions, you get to answer one of mine. You and Roger? Friends or more?"

Mark laughed, " Fair. Just friends. Even if we did swing that way, we'd kill each other. He's been my best friend since junior high, so I know him a little too well to even fathom that idea."

Collins chuckled, "Yeah, I got the brotherly vibe when we first met. He's a good kid. Hopefully he'll keep his head in the game and get that record contract he wants so badly."

"We'll hear about when he does but until then we'll hear the bitching about it because it's taking longer than he likes. So, you've learned I'm straight. Next question is for you: What's the B stand for?"

"If I told you, I'd have to kill you."

"Oh come on! I won't repeat it. It can't be that bad. I guess it stands for Bartholomew." Mark grabbed the Stoli bottle off the table and poured himself the equivalent of three shots.

"I wish. That would have been conventional. I'll tell you, but I will kill you if I find out Roger and Benny know," he leaned in and whispered it conspiratorially, "It's Bailey. After Bailey's Irish Cream. My parents were sick. They named me after a chocolate liqueur and a popular cocktail."

"Thomas Bailey Collins. I like it. No wonder you're a drunk now." Mark laughed and Collins joined in with deep chuckles.

They traded questions back and forth until they were too drunk to figure out whose turn it was or what number they were on. Somehow it had gotten around to film and philosophy and Collins was telling Mark about "the best thing he'd ever seen on television, when he had had a television".

"It was a Monty Python skit. A soccer match between Greece and Germany, but the players were all famous Greek and German philosophers. So they take the field, the whistle blows and they all fuckin stand there thinking. It goes on for some time, all of them wandering back and forth, thinking. Finally, Archimedes screams 'Eureka' and kicks the ball into the German's net. It was the funniest thing I'd ever fuckin seen. Those guys are geniuses."

"I'm a Monty Python fan myself. I agree, they are geniuses."

"What time is it anyway?" Collins rolled his head along the back of the worn couch to glance at Mark. Blearily, Mark looked at his watch and squinted to make out where the hands of the watch were sitting.

"Two o'clock…I think."

"Well, damn. There's still plenty of day left. Let's get out of this stuffy loft and partake in the benefits of sunshine and late springtime."

"We're drunk."

"Hell, boy. Like that's ever stopped me before!" Collins got to his feet and clumsily grabbed Mark's hands, "Let's go wreak havoc upon the unsuspecting residents of Alphabet City." Mark stood, wobbled slightly, and regained his footing. Drunkenly he stumbled to his room, while a confused but amused Collins watched from the doorway.

"Don't know what great film opportunities we might find." Mark said as he followed Collins out the door with his camera in tow.