Albert came out of the
dark recesses of the club and blinked in the sunshine. “What the fuck do you
want kid”
“Joey sent me to bring you
this bag. He was in the panele store and two cops from the 76th were
coming in to roust him.”
Albert took the bag and
looked inside. “Hey shitbird did you look inside?”
“No Sir. I just ran here
as fast as I could. I bet they are still at the store.”
“Right. Here kid get the
fuck outta here before the cops show up. Here beat it.”
The last of the big
spenders gave me a buck. Now I know that sounds like bullshit but in 1962 it
wasn’t so bad. A slice of pizza was 15cents. I gauge everything by the cost of
a slice. So a dollar was an ok tip.
I turned up Union and
wandered over to the “House of Pizza.” The guys were there eating and looking
out of the window at the cop car. They were taking Joey out in bracelets. He
was cursing and struggling in the grip of the two big Irish Mooks. One of them
hauled off and bopped him on the noggin with a sap. Joey collapsed like a
busted valise and they threw him in the back of the car.
“Oh shit look at that” Vito said he dripped olive oil from his slice onto his maroon Sacred Hearts tie. “They busted Joey’s coconut. Sock pow right in the kisser.”
“Hey where did you go Mikey?”
Nunzie was chowing down on a big greasy calzone. “You never came out.”
“I went through the back.
I didn’t O’Brien to rat me out to my Da at the Knights of Columbus. If he knew
I was in the store with gangsters he would kick my ass.”
Sal snorted some grape
juice out of his nose. He was a freaking messy bastard. “Yeah you better get a
slice to go. Get back late and Mother Assunta is gonna kick our ass. Again.”
He was right. So I got a
square and piled on the salt and red pepper. We hustled out on to Union St and
over the bridge and down Hicks Street to School.
How could I concentrate on
Social Studies after all this shit.
I know. I would just stare
at Connie’s tits.
37 comments:
I see pizza and sex morphing in this piece. When's the last time you had a slice?
September 19th.
I did make a phony pizza tonight.
I took a whole wheat wrap. Sautéed some shallots and garlic and tomato in a pan.
I grilled the wraps in the broiler until they were crisp.
Then I added the shallots, garlic, fresh tomato, gruyere cheese and low sodium ham with a generous dollop of herb goat cheese on top. Baked it for another five minutes and had it like a flat bread pizza.
But I haven't folded a greasy oily slice with tons of salt and red pepper since September 19th.
I miss it.
Do you find that making fake replacement stuff makes it worse?
I'm interested in this one. Mob stories are always pretty interesting.
Not if it tastes good.
I mean yogurt with lots of berries is not ice cream but it is pretty good.
I still eat a lot of great stuff.
I just can't have greasy tasty stuff like those calzones.
Gotta give the eyeties credit for one thing, they were sharp dressers. I put it in the past tense cause I grew up in East New York, which at the time was majority Italian and as a kid I was tremendously impressed with their glamour. Yes, that's a strong term but they really had glamour in their dark suits and slicked back blue-black hair. The contrast with my dirty blondish/reddish ginger family in clean but neutral colored and rumpled clothes couldn't have been greater. I also noticed that some of the Italian women had this mysterious seductive purplish tone around their eyes but mainly under their eyes. I mentioned that once to my Dad and asked what it was all about. I think his explanation had to do with the blood vessels giving that tinge to certain skin tones, but the reason I remember it so clearly is that I could sense in his response that he was thinking "Hey, this kid has an internal life," something that had never occurred to him up till then.
Sept 19 is just 6 days after we met.
ricpic, Many Italians felt obliged to dress well to overcome the pauper image of the earlier generation. Joe D always was perfectly coiffed, dressed, etc. He knew he was representing Italians to the nation[ Maybe70% of the country didn't know any Italians]. Joe D was an asshole but he did right by Italians in that respect.
You should see how Italian men dress in Milan. Armani suits, cashmere overcoats and scarves. I looked like a homeless guy.
I was easily identified as an American when in Italy - I wear New Balance sneakers - no self respecting old country Guinea would be caught dead wearing such footwear.
I really wanted to buy a Brioni suit when I was in Florence - settled for some very expensive ties, but in retrospect, I am glad I didn't buy a suit - I only need a suit for a funeral.
Sixty, I'm a New Balance guy too, 609's triple wide.
I only wear suits for weddings, funerals, and testifying in court. The latter is very infrequent now. I had to wear a tie in high school and it made me hate them.
Joe D was anti social and notoriously cheap, but I did not consider him an asshole.
My suits are all moth food now. I don't have one fittin' for anything.
Guess I just get some bibby overhauls and allow them to suffice for formal wear.
Sixty, maybe that will delay people dying.
Then again, I had friends who wore overalls and CAT hats to the funeral for their great grandfather when he passed. From the little kids up to his own kids, three generations wore the same. That is how he dressed for most days of his life and they buried him that way too.
It was a memorable funeral.
Even though the great American philosopher and Y*nkee great Yogi Berra said that if we don't go to our friend's funerals they won't go to ours, it's been years since I have been to one.
My one - no biggie, put me in a box, pop me in the oven, scatter my ashes. No suit required. Just the one I showed up in.
I should probably get a new suit. I am just too cheap to get a good one and don't want a bad one. Back when I was in the woolens business I learned what good wool is like and how much it costs. Off the rack suits are pretty offensive in terms of materials and build quality.
The struggle is one of how to justify the expense of an item that will seldom be used. It's not like I can wear it while sawing wood or selling at the market.
Hold it - that would really set me apart from the other vendors. I can see it now - go see the son of the soil in his Sunday best - that might work.
I am tired - replace "my one" with "my own".
Sixty, My bride knows I want a simple, quick funeral mass and then a feast either catered or @ a restaurant. Open bar, just like a wedding. No expense sparred.
Let me know when she plans to make that happen.
Sixty, wear the suit but go barefoot. Play to stereotypes.
Nick - How long will the bar be open, and will its location be in your obit? Asking for a friend.
All my suits except the nice blue one went to Goodwill shortly I left the corporate world. The blue suit is used for baptisms, weddings and funerals.
Mrs. Haz insisted that I not throw out my neckties.
They were gray?
Attended the funeral of a young woman this past summer. Tragic. Three liver transplants throughout her life, yet she still died. Left two teenage girls behind. She was only in her mid-30s. After the service, they placed her coffin in the back of her dad's pickup and he drove it to the cemetery. He wanted to take his baby girl for one last drive. That may sound crazy and redneck, but people deal with grief in their own way.
My wife and I both opt for cremation. We have several friends who were buried on their own property. That seems sort of creepy to me. What do you tell people when it comes time to sell? "Oh, by the way, my first wife is buried out by the lilac bushes in the back yard."
Over at Lem's he put up a picture looking through the windshield out on the wet grey highway with the caption "We're almost there." That was it. No other info. So far Pollo has posted "Donde?" Is this what continual texting does to folks? Yes.
I think he said he was driving to Georgia for the holidays.
Sadly that fn rain is headed this way.
Haz, The obit will have the info, it will be in the Wi. State Journal. The bar will be open until midnight. And, I hope you're there and have a designated driver. I'm not kidding about this, I'm always looking @ venues.
windbag, That transport sounds great to me.
Nick - "I'm always looking @ venues.."
I am going to use this any time I stop at a bar from now on. Thank you.
Mrs. Haz and I have agreed to "cheap funeral, big party" as our last wishes.
Trooper - just a sidebar thank you - it is so nice to read a blog that isn't obsessed with anti-male, anti-religion baloney every day.
Unless something drastically changes I plan on giving myself to one of the Body Farms--either the original or one of the ...what would you call them, satellite locations. If I happen to stumble into a relationship between now and then and the other party has a problem with it...it could change.
But I doubt it. I'm fairly stubborn. And I will cut off my nose to spite my face. I've seen me do it.
Small world. I'm channel surfing, waiting for the Packers game to start at 3:30 CST and what do I find? Nat Geo is running a program about Joey Gallo.
No mention of a little kid with a paper bag. So far.
@ricpic: That's just me and Lem's secret lingo.
Mrs. Haz insisted that I not throw out my neckties.
Quite so. The are very useful for kinky sex......did I type that outloud?
:-)
I think Trooper has a hit in the Joey Gallo as viewed through the eyes of a bunch of street wise urchins in Brooklyn.
Also....as a companion book, publish a cookbook for all the yummy sounding food. I bought a Soprano's Cookbook based on all the food that they were cooking, eating, talking about. One of my favorites is Carmella's Ricotta Pie.
Soprano's food - on PAX!
Broken valise?
Post a Comment