Joey Gallo's Lament

Joey Gallo sat shackled to the desk in the interrogation room at the top floor of the 76^th prescient. It wasn’t really officially an interrogation room. Or even officially a room. More like a closet. Windowless. Filled with filing cabinets. Smelled like cheap whiskey and farts. Or more accurately like cheap beer and farts. You know. Irish.

Two fat rumpled cops waddled into the room. One of them carried a folder. The other a phone book. Time for a few questions.

“What the fuck Kelly? You gonna charge me or are you just busting my culones. I don’t have time for this shit.”

“Well my boy what do you have to do that is so pressing that you can’t answer a few questions?”

“I have to go fuck your mother.”

Ryan the fatter of the two cops picked up the phone book and placed it on Joey’s face. Then he hauled off and punched him hard enough to rock him back in his chair. He almost hit his head on the cabinet but the handcuff jerked him back. Felt like his arm was going to come out of his socket.

“Listen you fuckin’ greasy wop. You will answer the question without any of your lip if you want to walk out of here on your own two feet. Now where were you last Monday night?”

“Monday? I was at the club all night. Ask any of the boys. They will back me up.”

“I bet they will. You sure you weren’t throwing a beating to another one of your wop friends at the “Three Fours” because he didn’t have the vig?”

“Not me pal. I was playing cards at the club. It’s our normal Monday night game.”

“Well I got news for you boyo. That simple guinea fuck up and died and the wife says you were the one to throw him the beating. So you better come clean or we might have to tune you up a bit to see if you sing a different tune. Waddya say? Make it easy on all of us and come clean for the first time in your miserable fucking life.”

“Not on your life you dumb Mick fuck. I didn’t do it and I ain’t gonna cop to it. Get my Jew lawyer here. I want my phone call.”

“Oh all in good time boyo all in good time. I have to go out and make a few calls. In the meantime Detective Ryan here has a few more questions for you.” Kelly picked up the folder and walked out of the room.

Ryan looked at Joey and smiled. He resembled nothing so much as the pig head that hung in the window of Esposito’s Pork Store. Short nose that might has well have been a snout.  Porcine eyes set deep under a brow that would not be out of place in a caveman exhibit at the Museum of Natural history.  He opened a drawer in one of the cabinets and took put a pair of longshoreman gloves. He put them on one at time carefully smoothing each one over his fat fingers. Made a fist. Opened his hand. Made another fist. And swung with all his might into Joey’s stomach. Laughed. Did it again.

“This is gonna be fun.”