Yeah, I live on 42nd street, but for me, it will always be 40 Deuce. That was the name that Ray Gilligan, my former drummer and all-around crazy guy, gave to the street we both lived on. At one time, there was a magical period on the 40 Deuce: Ray was the official Mayor of 40 Deuce, everyone knew (and liked) everyone on the block, and we all had a good time, all the time. The Rockin’ Chair! was gigging almost every weekend, every Sunday was Super Soaker Sunday (except during football season), and everyone was playing Super Bomberman 2.
To say that everyone liked the game was faint praise; we were all obsessed zombies, just itching to blast our friends into eternity, or at least into the next game. It even got to the point that we held a tournament that lasted for 10 hours and involved 30 contestants, from eight-year old kids to Crazy Jerry, a 60-year old gambler who lived across the street. We had a full bar set up in the viewing room and the 60-inch projection TV was wired to the SNES so everyone not locked in the Battle Room could watch the mayhem. Yea verily, it was glorious!
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