I had to go to the courthouse to file a motion in Kate's case. It is always busy when you try to get to see the clerk and today was no exception. Usually you run into people you know. And you always run into some you don't want to see. Like now. Right in front of me was a parole officer I used to work with.
His name was Nick Spanakos and he looked like a dissoulte Broaderick Crawford. Actually his nickname was "Nick the Barrel." Sometimes becaue his favorite saying was "It's like shooting fish in a barrell" but mostly becaue he looked a barrell. With a Dixiecup on top for a head.
Nick was covered in donut crumbs and stains of an intereminate nature that I don't think would stand up to a blue light analysis. Oh no. He wants to talk.
"Hi doll how ya doing. Lookin good. I hear you have a case?"
"Yes I do. But nothing to interest you. She will never be convicted so she will never go on parole."
"Oh don't worry baby everything interests me. I have to split though. I have to track down one of my clients. He was a dog toucher. Convicted of Sexual Battery on a Beagle. I heard he got married. Imagine that. Who would marry a perv like that. See ya in the funny papers."
With that he waddled out of the room. Thank God.
I don't think I could have watched him touch himself again without barfing. I think it has been so long since he could see it that he had to touch it all the time to make sure it was there.
Nobody wants to see that.
10 comments:
Feeling is believing.
A too fat to bend over Greek is a safe Greek.
Greece is our next trip to Europe. We have a friends in Jersey who are Greek. They speak the language and have been there many times. "Oopah."
The gyro in America started in Chicago. An immigrant started a business called Kronos in the 70's. He made those huge slabs of gyro meat. For maybe a decade or so, only Chicago had gyros. The craze started to spread in the 80's. He had to adjust the lamb/beef ratio depending on the market. The more Greeks in the market, more lamb. The more white bread mayo motherfuckers, more beef.
Madison had gyros in the mid 1970s. Two competing shops across from one another on State St. Run by jet-black, greasy-haired English-challenged young men. I wonder now if they were related like the Gargano bros were in Italian ristorante.
The Parthenon Grill was the first place I tasted tzatsiki sauce; for Titus, I'm sure it was out in back of the place.
Chick, One of them went out of biz, but the other one flourishes. There's a pizza joint that's pretty good, Pizza di Roma where the defunct place was. Everyone thinks they're dago immigrants but they're Albanian. I learned that from a case I worked. I bust their balls for being dago wannabes but they're from the wrong side of the Adriatic. Good guys and pizza.
My Mom read that? No wonder she liked it. She's still a bad girl. I've never been able to get her under control.
bagoh, I bet she was a wild woman in her youth! We know she's tough.
Kronos was out here in the '70s. I remember the signs and gyro options at The Firehouse, where I played an exciting new game called "Pong".
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