ZEFRANK.COM - message board  

Go Back   ZEFRANK.COM - message board > FICTION PROJECT
FAQ Members List Calendar Search Today's Posts Mark Forums Read

Reply
 
Thread Tools Rating: Thread Rating: 28 votes, 4.86 average. Display Modes
Old 01-20-2003, 01:53 AM   #46
nycwriters
Stuck in T.O.
 
Join Date: Oct 2002
Location: Floundering
Posts: 4,134
The streetlight cast shadows upon those walking solitary down this lonely strip of road. Walking down the street in the heavy mist brought back distant memories.
There was Joey Pellagrino, leaning against the corner of 5th and broadway, catching awkward glances from teenage girls who were out past there curfew.
He fished out a Russian cigarette, from a pack that once belonged to a dead guy, and lit it.
The sky was a tense purple, close to the same color the dead guy had been just after the pillow was finished taking him out.

That's the way business had always been done in this town, cold and discreet - my meeting tonight would be no different.

"So, do you have it?" asked a man who came out of the shadows, his breath puffing out like smoke in the cold night air.

A rookie, "Got a light?", I enquired as I cooley reached for my menthols in my inside jacket pocket. He cupped his hands to shield the match from the biting breeze and the flame danced across his face.

He shuffled his feet, unsure of what to say next; my steely calm left his previous resolve shaken.
I pulled long and deep on my favourite brand and exhaled, "Thanks buddy, I've got what you want, but first i need to know..."

"yeah I know what you need to know," he said, visibly shaken, "... HE sent me. Now let's get on with it."
He looked like he was packing, but didn't know what to do with it.

I smirked. "Look pal, you can do this the easy way, or we can do it it the hard way, don't fuss this gig up."

"Don't fuss this gig up?" he queried, "so its true that your side has a strict no-swearing policy? Is the monkey rumour true too? Geez, wait til HIS boys here about this!"

I took one long look at him; obviously this kid was not only a novice but on some kind of them psychadelic drugs the long haired hippies sold down at the park.

"Alright old timer here's the folder you requested," he was starting to sweat, i could see where he'd damped the paper with his palms.

I was about to take it when I heard something behind me.
I ducked down instinctively, as I heard the last heavy footstep that gave leverage for the punch that sailed an inch above my head.

The novice went down like a sack of potatoes; I turned to see who landed that blow. My curiousity was greeted with a gun barrel, pressed hard to my cheek.

Ducked down I could see his black loafers, but recognised the dry wit in his voice just as well, he said, "Good evening John, nice night for a stroll."

It was Sal, one of my boys from back in the old neighborhood -- it'd been a good decade since I had seen him last -- and he hadn't changed a burly bit.

His once clean shaven face was thick with hair.... he looked mysterious almost like...no it couldn't be, he removed the gun from my cheek and we stared at eachother.

"You asshole," I spat, rubbing my cheek were the cold steel had been. "You almost nailed me -- if I hadn't ducked...."

CRACK! I flinched then turned to see who got in the way of Sal's 9mm bullet. The shmuck was halfway down the alley hurtling through some empty garbage cans.

"Jesus Sal, who are these guys and why are you here? That's twice I owe you now!"

"Joey said you might need a hand," motioning to Pellagrino still standing on the corner scoping out the girls walking by -- I'd forgotten he was there. "But let's get out of here, we have to talk."

The cab stopped in front of the old run down Bernhardt hotel. I tipped the greaseball a buck or two, and Joey led the way to the lobby with his umbrella.

Sal had stayed in the cab when we got there, which, for some reason, had left me with a feeling of malaise. I made my way through the dizzingly massive revolving doors, and the door man pointed over to the elevator, as if he was expecting my visit.

It was almost as if he knew me but no I was in for a shock and i knew it but what i didn't know was what except we... stopped in front of pair of large black doors with golden handles.

The door opened. Sitting behind an ornate desk was THE fattest man I've ever seen in my life. He was wearing a tutu. And it was pink.

"So," the tutu-wearing fat man behind the desk said. "We finally meet."

"So you're HIM," I said staring in disbelief of the man's enormous stature "the big man, the head cheese, the Hungry-Hungry Hippo."

Big man was speechless. How could I ever be so insolent? He coughed and reached into the left drawer of his desk. He pulled out a tiny monkey. He put it in his pocket.

I was speechless. For one, how could a monkey that small even exist? For another; I had forgotten to bring the package that the rookie dropped as he fell.

"Looks like you're packing a little snack. Are we going somewhere?" I asked. Anything to divert attention while i tried to figure out how to get the package without him noticing.

Just then Joey Pellagrino burst into the room; eyes crazed, blood dripping from a gaping wound in his shoulder. There was an amazing amount of guacamole on his chin too.

"You... forgot... this..." he managed to stammer, as the package fell to the floor. Joey followed, a technicolor Rorschach.

Joey was always stealing the spotlight that way -- it always had to be about him. I coughed, and bent down to pick up the, now-soiled, package. The click of the hammer locking back, the cold barrel against my head, haven't we been here before?

Before we get back to me, the gun, the package and the fat man, I suppose I should introduce myself. My name is Dick. Dick Friendly (or that's what the girls call me anyhow), and there's a million naked stories in the city. I'm in most of them.

I got my start in a shady little office on the west side. The man in charge went by the name "Jimmy the Neck." Maybe it was on the count of his 21 inch neck. Could also have been because of the 9 inch scar on said neck, who knows. When a guy like that is looking at you like he has already thought of thirty-five ways that he could kill you, you just don't ask.

Somehow I managed to slip "the Neck's" noose and start up a little private affair of my own -- on the east side. I had to get as far away as possible from the behemoth. It was slow-going at first, until the day she walked into my office.
nycwriters is offline   Reply With Quote
Old 01-28-2003, 04:19 PM   #47
sybil
yeah.
 
sybil's Avatar
 
Join Date: Jan 2003
Location: boston
Posts: 78
The streetlight cast shadows upon those walking solitary down this lonely strip of road. Walking down the street in the heavy mist brought back distant memories.
There was Joey Pellagrino, leaning against the corner of 5th and broadway, catching awkward glances from teenage girls who were out past there curfew.
He fished out a Russian cigarette, from a pack that once belonged to a dead guy, and lit it.
The sky was a tense purple, close to the same color the dead guy had been just after the pillow was finished taking him out.

That's the way business had always been done in this town, cold and discreet - my meeting tonight would be no different.

"So, do you have it?" asked a man who came out of the shadows, his breath puffing out like smoke in the cold night air.

A rookie, "Got a light?", I enquired as I cooley reached for my menthols in my inside jacket pocket. He cupped his hands to shield the match from the biting breeze and the flame danced across his face.

He shuffled his feet, unsure of what to say next; my steely calm left his previous resolve shaken.
I pulled long and deep on my favourite brand and exhaled, "Thanks buddy, I've got what you want, but first i need to know..."

"yeah I know what you need to know," he said, visibly shaken, "... HE sent me. Now let's get on with it."
He looked like he was packing, but didn't know what to do with it.

I smirked. "Look pal, you can do this the easy way, or we can do it it the hard way, don't fuss this gig up."

"Don't fuss this gig up?" he queried, "so its true that your side has a strict no-swearing policy? Is the monkey rumour true too? Geez, wait til HIS boys here about this!"

I took one long look at him; obviously this kid was not only a novice but on some kind of them psychadelic drugs the long haired hippies sold down at the park.

"Alright old timer here's the folder you requested," he was starting to sweat, i could see where he'd damped the paper with his palms.

I was about to take it when I heard something behind me.
I ducked down instinctively, as I heard the last heavy footstep that gave leverage for the punch that sailed an inch above my head.

The novice went down like a sack of potatoes; I turned to see who landed that blow. My curiousity was greeted with a gun barrel, pressed hard to my cheek.

Ducked down I could see his black loafers, but recognised the dry wit in his voice just as well, he said, "Good evening John, nice night for a stroll."

It was Sal, one of my boys from back in the old neighborhood -- it'd been a good decade since I had seen him last -- and he hadn't changed a burly bit.

His once clean shaven face was thick with hair.... he looked mysterious almost like...no it couldn't be, he removed the gun from my cheek and we stared at eachother.

"You asshole," I spat, rubbing my cheek were the cold steel had been. "You almost nailed me -- if I hadn't ducked...."

CRACK! I flinched then turned to see who got in the way of Sal's 9mm bullet. The shmuck was halfway down the alley hurtling through some empty garbage cans.

"Jesus Sal, who are these guys and why are you here? That's twice I owe you now!"

"Joey said you might need a hand," motioning to Pellagrino still standing on the corner scoping out the girls walking by -- I'd forgotten he was there. "But let's get out of here, we have to talk."

The cab stopped in front of the old run down Bernhardt hotel. I tipped the greaseball a buck or two, and Joey led the way to the lobby with his umbrella.

Sal had stayed in the cab when we got there, which, for some reason, had left me with a feeling of malaise. I made my way through the dizzingly massive revolving doors, and the door man pointed over to the elevator, as if he was expecting my visit.

It was almost as if he knew me but no I was in for a shock and i knew it but what i didn't know was what except we... stopped in front of pair of large black doors with golden handles.

The door opened. Sitting behind an ornate desk was THE fattest man I've ever seen in my life. He was wearing a tutu. And it was pink.

"So," the tutu-wearing fat man behind the desk said. "We finally meet."

"So you're HIM," I said staring in disbelief of the man's enormous stature "the big man, the head cheese, the Hungry-Hungry Hippo."

Big man was speechless. How could I ever be so insolent? He coughed and reached into the left drawer of his desk. He pulled out a tiny monkey. He put it in his pocket.

I was speechless. For one, how could a monkey that small even exist? For another; I had forgotten to bring the package that the rookie dropped as he fell.

"Looks like you're packing a little snack. Are we going somewhere?" I asked. Anything to divert attention while i tried to figure out how to get the package without him noticing.

Just then Joey Pellagrino burst into the room; eyes crazed, blood dripping from a gaping wound in his shoulder. There was an amazing amount of guacamole on his chin too.

"You... forgot... this..." he managed to stammer, as the package fell to the floor. Joey followed, a technicolor Rorschach.

Joey was always stealing the spotlight that way -- it always had to be about him. I coughed, and bent down to pick up the, now-soiled, package. The click of the hammer locking back, the cold barrel against my head, haven't we been here before?

Before we get back to me, the gun, the package and the fat man, I suppose I should introduce myself. My name is Dick. Dick Friendly (or that's what the girls call me anyhow), and there's a million naked stories in the city. I'm in most of them.

I got my start in a shady little office on the west side. The man in charge went by the name "Jimmy the Neck." Maybe it was on the count of his 21 inch neck. Could also have been because of the 9 inch scar on said neck, who knows. When a guy like that is looking at you like he has already thought of thirty-five ways that he could kill you, you just don't ask.

Somehow I managed to slip "the Neck's" noose and start up a little private affair of my own -- on the east side. I had to get as far away as possible from the behemoth. It was slow-going at first, until the day she walked into my office.

She was no babe. She looked like she had seen too much in her twenty odd years. She had. Her name was Sally Mallone.
sybil is offline   Reply With Quote
Old 01-28-2003, 05:39 PM   #48
nycwriters
Stuck in T.O.
 
Join Date: Oct 2002
Location: Floundering
Posts: 4,134
The streetlight cast shadows upon those walking solitary down this lonely strip of road. Walking down the street in the heavy mist brought back distant memories.
There was Joey Pellagrino, leaning against the corner of 5th and broadway, catching awkward glances from teenage girls who were out past there curfew.
He fished out a Russian cigarette, from a pack that once belonged to a dead guy, and lit it.
The sky was a tense purple, close to the same color the dead guy had been just after the pillow was finished taking him out.

That's the way business had always been done in this town, cold and discreet - my meeting tonight would be no different.

"So, do you have it?" asked a man who came out of the shadows, his breath puffing out like smoke in the cold night air.

A rookie, "Got a light?", I enquired as I cooley reached for my menthols in my inside jacket pocket. He cupped his hands to shield the match from the biting breeze and the flame danced across his face.

He shuffled his feet, unsure of what to say next; my steely calm left his previous resolve shaken.
I pulled long and deep on my favourite brand and exhaled, "Thanks buddy, I've got what you want, but first i need to know..."

"yeah I know what you need to know," he said, visibly shaken, "... HE sent me. Now let's get on with it."
He looked like he was packing, but didn't know what to do with it.

I smirked. "Look pal, you can do this the easy way, or we can do it it the hard way, don't fuss this gig up."

"Don't fuss this gig up?" he queried, "so its true that your side has a strict no-swearing policy? Is the monkey rumour true too? Geez, wait til HIS boys here about this!"

I took one long look at him; obviously this kid was not only a novice but on some kind of them psychadelic drugs the long haired hippies sold down at the park.

"Alright old timer here's the folder you requested," he was starting to sweat, i could see where he'd damped the paper with his palms.

I was about to take it when I heard something behind me.
I ducked down instinctively, as I heard the last heavy footstep that gave leverage for the punch that sailed an inch above my head.

The novice went down like a sack of potatoes; I turned to see who landed that blow. My curiousity was greeted with a gun barrel, pressed hard to my cheek.

Ducked down I could see his black loafers, but recognised the dry wit in his voice just as well, he said, "Good evening John, nice night for a stroll."

It was Sal, one of my boys from back in the old neighborhood -- it'd been a good decade since I had seen him last -- and he hadn't changed a burly bit.

His once clean shaven face was thick with hair.... he looked mysterious almost like...no it couldn't be, he removed the gun from my cheek and we stared at eachother.

"You asshole," I spat, rubbing my cheek were the cold steel had been. "You almost nailed me -- if I hadn't ducked...."

CRACK! I flinched then turned to see who got in the way of Sal's 9mm bullet. The shmuck was halfway down the alley hurtling through some empty garbage cans.

"Jesus Sal, who are these guys and why are you here? That's twice I owe you now!"

"Joey said you might need a hand," motioning to Pellagrino still standing on the corner scoping out the girls walking by -- I'd forgotten he was there. "But let's get out of here, we have to talk."

The cab stopped in front of the old run down Bernhardt hotel. I tipped the greaseball a buck or two, and Joey led the way to the lobby with his umbrella.

Sal had stayed in the cab when we got there, which, for some reason, had left me with a feeling of malaise. I made my way through the dizzingly massive revolving doors, and the door man pointed over to the elevator, as if he was expecting my visit.

It was almost as if he knew me but no I was in for a shock and i knew it but what i didn't know was what except we... stopped in front of pair of large black doors with golden handles.

The door opened. Sitting behind an ornate desk was THE fattest man I've ever seen in my life. He was wearing a tutu. And it was pink.

"So," the tutu-wearing fat man behind the desk said. "We finally meet."

"So you're HIM," I said staring in disbelief of the man's enormous stature "the big man, the head cheese, the Hungry-Hungry Hippo."

Big man was speechless. How could I ever be so insolent? He coughed and reached into the left drawer of his desk. He pulled out a tiny monkey. He put it in his pocket.

I was speechless. For one, how could a monkey that small even exist? For another; I had forgotten to bring the package that the rookie dropped as he fell.

"Looks like you're packing a little snack. Are we going somewhere?" I asked. Anything to divert attention while i tried to figure out how to get the package without him noticing.

Just then Joey Pellagrino burst into the room; eyes crazed, blood dripping from a gaping wound in his shoulder. There was an amazing amount of guacamole on his chin too.

"You... forgot... this..." he managed to stammer, as the package fell to the floor. Joey followed, a technicolor Rorschach.

Joey was always stealing the spotlight that way -- it always had to be about him. I coughed, and bent down to pick up the, now-soiled, package. The click of the hammer locking back, the cold barrel against my head, haven't we been here before?

Before we get back to me, the gun, the package and the fat man, I suppose I should introduce myself. My name is Dick. Dick Friendly (or that's what the girls call me anyhow), and there's a million naked stories in the city. I'm in most of them.

I got my start in a shady little office on the west side. The man in charge went by the name "Jimmy the Neck." Maybe it was on the count of his 21 inch neck. Could also have been because of the 9 inch scar on said neck, who knows. When a guy like that is looking at you like he has already thought of thirty-five ways that he could kill you, you just don't ask.

Somehow I managed to slip "the Neck's" noose and start up a little private affair of my own -- on the east side. I had to get as far away as possible from the behemoth. It was slow-going at first, until the day she walked into my office.

She was no babe. She looked like she had seen too much in her twenty odd years. She had. Her name was Sally Mallone.

She liked to joke that she was "40 pounds shy of stunning," but there was more to her than that. More than the typical head-turning dame you'd see walking down the streets, high heels clickety clicking on the pavement. Her gravelly voice, the confident way her eyes met yours, the way she drank like a sailor on shore leave; those were some of the reasons why I fell into her trap.
nycwriters is offline   Reply With Quote
Old 01-28-2003, 09:16 PM   #49
noxxville
Disco Maven
 
noxxville's Avatar
 
Join Date: Dec 2002
Location: NC...seriously....how did that happen?
Posts: 2,024
The streetlight cast shadows upon those walking solitary down this lonely strip of road. Walking down the street in the heavy mist brought back distant memories.
There was Joey Pellagrino, leaning against the corner of 5th and broadway, catching awkward glances from teenage girls who were out past there curfew.
He fished out a Russian cigarette, from a pack that once belonged to a dead guy, and lit it.
The sky was a tense purple, close to the same color the dead guy had been just after the pillow was finished taking him out.

That's the way business had always been done in this town, cold and discreet - my meeting tonight would be no different.

"So, do you have it?" asked a man who came out of the shadows, his breath puffing out like smoke in the cold night air.

A rookie, "Got a light?", I enquired as I cooley reached for my menthols in my inside jacket pocket. He cupped his hands to shield the match from the biting breeze and the flame danced across his face.

He shuffled his feet, unsure of what to say next; my steely calm left his previous resolve shaken.
I pulled long and deep on my favourite brand and exhaled, "Thanks buddy, I've got what you want, but first i need to know..."

"yeah I know what you need to know," he said, visibly shaken, "... HE sent me. Now let's get on with it."
He looked like he was packing, but didn't know what to do with it.

I smirked. "Look pal, you can do this the easy way, or we can do it it the hard way, don't fuss this gig up."

"Don't fuss this gig up?" he queried, "so its true that your side has a strict no-swearing policy? Is the monkey rumour true too? Geez, wait til HIS boys here about this!"

I took one long look at him; obviously this kid was not only a novice but on some kind of them psychadelic drugs the long haired hippies sold down at the park.

"Alright old timer here's the folder you requested," he was starting to sweat, i could see where he'd damped the paper with his palms.

I was about to take it when I heard something behind me.
I ducked down instinctively, as I heard the last heavy footstep that gave leverage for the punch that sailed an inch above my head.

The novice went down like a sack of potatoes; I turned to see who landed that blow. My curiousity was greeted with a gun barrel, pressed hard to my cheek.

Ducked down I could see his black loafers, but recognised the dry wit in his voice just as well, he said, "Good evening John, nice night for a stroll."

It was Sal, one of my boys from back in the old neighborhood -- it'd been a good decade since I had seen him last -- and he hadn't changed a burly bit.

His once clean shaven face was thick with hair.... he looked mysterious almost like...no it couldn't be, he removed the gun from my cheek and we stared at eachother.

"You asshole," I spat, rubbing my cheek were the cold steel had been. "You almost nailed me -- if I hadn't ducked...."

CRACK! I flinched then turned to see who got in the way of Sal's 9mm bullet. The shmuck was halfway down the alley hurtling through some empty garbage cans.

"Jesus Sal, who are these guys and why are you here? That's twice I owe you now!"

"Joey said you might need a hand," motioning to Pellagrino still standing on the corner scoping out the girls walking by -- I'd forgotten he was there. "But let's get out of here, we have to talk."

The cab stopped in front of the old run down Bernhardt hotel. I tipped the greaseball a buck or two, and Joey led the way to the lobby with his umbrella.

Sal had stayed in the cab when we got there, which, for some reason, had left me with a feeling of malaise. I made my way through the dizzingly massive revolving doors, and the door man pointed over to the elevator, as if he was expecting my visit.

It was almost as if he knew me but no I was in for a shock and i knew it but what i didn't know was what except we... stopped in front of pair of large black doors with golden handles.

The door opened. Sitting behind an ornate desk was THE fattest man I've ever seen in my life. He was wearing a tutu. And it was pink.

"So," the tutu-wearing fat man behind the desk said. "We finally meet."

"So you're HIM," I said staring in disbelief of the man's enormous stature "the big man, the head cheese, the Hungry-Hungry Hippo."

Big man was speechless. How could I ever be so insolent? He coughed and reached into the left drawer of his desk. He pulled out a tiny monkey. He put it in his pocket.

I was speechless. For one, how could a monkey that small even exist? For another; I had forgotten to bring the package that the rookie dropped as he fell.

"Looks like you're packing a little snack. Are we going somewhere?" I asked. Anything to divert attention while i tried to figure out how to get the package without him noticing.

Just then Joey Pellagrino burst into the room; eyes crazed, blood dripping from a gaping wound in his shoulder. There was an amazing amount of guacamole on his chin too.

"You... forgot... this..." he managed to stammer, as the package fell to the floor. Joey followed, a technicolor Rorschach.

Joey was always stealing the spotlight that way -- it always had to be about him. I coughed, and bent down to pick up the, now-soiled, package. The click of the hammer locking back, the cold barrel against my head, haven't we been here before?

Before we get back to me, the gun, the package and the fat man, I suppose I should introduce myself. My name is Dick. Dick Friendly (or that's what the girls call me anyhow), and there's a million naked stories in the city. I'm in most of them.

I got my start in a shady little office on the west side. The man in charge went by the name "Jimmy the Neck." Maybe it was on the count of his 21 inch neck. Could also have been because of the 9 inch scar on said neck, who knows. When a guy like that is looking at you like he has already thought of thirty-five ways that he could kill you, you just don't ask.

Somehow I managed to slip "the Neck's" noose and start up a little private affair of my own -- on the east side. I had to get as far away as possible from the behemoth. It was slow-going at first, until the day she walked into my office.

She was no babe. She looked like she had seen too much in her twenty odd years. She had. Her name was Sally Mallone.

She liked to joke that she was "40 pounds shy of stunning," but there was more to her than that. More than the typical head-turning dame you'd see walking down the streets, high heels clickety clicking on the pavement. Her gravelly voice, the confident way her eyes met yours, the way she drank like a sailor on shore leave; those were some of the reasons why I fell into her trap.

Sally was once a man. That would bother most folks around here, but I knew what was good for me. She was clearly a woman now. It was awkward at first, when I noticed the erratic stubble that would pop up now and then. But hey, everybody has their flaws right?
__________________
Call that guy butter because he's on a roll!
noxxville is offline   Reply With Quote
Old 01-28-2003, 10:14 PM   #50
nycwriters
Stuck in T.O.
 
Join Date: Oct 2002
Location: Floundering
Posts: 4,134
The streetlight cast shadows upon those walking solitary down this lonely strip of road. Walking down the street in the heavy mist brought back distant memories.
There was Joey Pellagrino, leaning against the corner of 5th and broadway, catching awkward glances from teenage girls who were out past there curfew.
He fished out a Russian cigarette, from a pack that once belonged to a dead guy, and lit it.
The sky was a tense purple, close to the same color the dead guy had been just after the pillow was finished taking him out.

That's the way business had always been done in this town, cold and discreet - my meeting tonight would be no different.

"So, do you have it?" asked a man who came out of the shadows, his breath puffing out like smoke in the cold night air.

A rookie, "Got a light?", I enquired as I cooley reached for my menthols in my inside jacket pocket. He cupped his hands to shield the match from the biting breeze and the flame danced across his face.

He shuffled his feet, unsure of what to say next; my steely calm left his previous resolve shaken.
I pulled long and deep on my favourite brand and exhaled, "Thanks buddy, I've got what you want, but first i need to know..."

"yeah I know what you need to know," he said, visibly shaken, "... HE sent me. Now let's get on with it."
He looked like he was packing, but didn't know what to do with it.

I smirked. "Look pal, you can do this the easy way, or we can do it it the hard way, don't fuss this gig up."

"Don't fuss this gig up?" he queried, "so its true that your side has a strict no-swearing policy? Is the monkey rumour true too? Geez, wait til HIS boys here about this!"

I took one long look at him; obviously this kid was not only a novice but on some kind of them psychadelic drugs the long haired hippies sold down at the park.

"Alright old timer here's the folder you requested," he was starting to sweat, i could see where he'd damped the paper with his palms.

I was about to take it when I heard something behind me.
I ducked down instinctively, as I heard the last heavy footstep that gave leverage for the punch that sailed an inch above my head.

The novice went down like a sack of potatoes; I turned to see who landed that blow. My curiousity was greeted with a gun barrel, pressed hard to my cheek.

Ducked down I could see his black loafers, but recognised the dry wit in his voice just as well, he said, "Good evening John, nice night for a stroll."

It was Sal, one of my boys from back in the old neighborhood -- it'd been a good decade since I had seen him last -- and he hadn't changed a burly bit.

His once clean shaven face was thick with hair.... he looked mysterious almost like...no it couldn't be, he removed the gun from my cheek and we stared at eachother.

"You asshole," I spat, rubbing my cheek were the cold steel had been. "You almost nailed me -- if I hadn't ducked...."

CRACK! I flinched then turned to see who got in the way of Sal's 9mm bullet. The shmuck was halfway down the alley hurtling through some empty garbage cans.

"Jesus Sal, who are these guys and why are you here? That's twice I owe you now!"

"Joey said you might need a hand," motioning to Pellagrino still standing on the corner scoping out the girls walking by -- I'd forgotten he was there. "But let's get out of here, we have to talk."

The cab stopped in front of the old run down Bernhardt hotel. I tipped the greaseball a buck or two, and Joey led the way to the lobby with his umbrella.

Sal had stayed in the cab when we got there, which, for some reason, had left me with a feeling of malaise. I made my way through the dizzingly massive revolving doors, and the door man pointed over to the elevator, as if he was expecting my visit.

It was almost as if he knew me but no I was in for a shock and i knew it but what i didn't know was what except we... stopped in front of pair of large black doors with golden handles.

The door opened. Sitting behind an ornate desk was THE fattest man I've ever seen in my life. He was wearing a tutu. And it was pink.

"So," the tutu-wearing fat man behind the desk said. "We finally meet."

"So you're HIM," I said staring in disbelief of the man's enormous stature "the big man, the head cheese, the Hungry-Hungry Hippo."

Big man was speechless. How could I ever be so insolent? He coughed and reached into the left drawer of his desk. He pulled out a tiny monkey. He put it in his pocket.

I was speechless. For one, how could a monkey that small even exist? For another; I had forgotten to bring the package that the rookie dropped as he fell.

"Looks like you're packing a little snack. Are we going somewhere?" I asked. Anything to divert attention while i tried to figure out how to get the package without him noticing.

Just then Joey Pellagrino burst into the room; eyes crazed, blood dripping from a gaping wound in his shoulder. There was an amazing amount of guacamole on his chin too.

"You... forgot... this..." he managed to stammer, as the package fell to the floor. Joey followed, a technicolor Rorschach.

Joey was always stealing the spotlight that way -- it always had to be about him. I coughed, and bent down to pick up the, now-soiled, package. The click of the hammer locking back, the cold barrel against my head, haven't we been here before?

Before we get back to me, the gun, the package and the fat man, I suppose I should introduce myself. My name is Dick. Dick Friendly (or that's what the girls call me anyhow), and there's a million naked stories in the city. I'm in most of them.

I got my start in a shady little office on the west side. The man in charge went by the name "Jimmy the Neck." Maybe it was on the count of his 21 inch neck. Could also have been because of the 9 inch scar on said neck, who knows. When a guy like that is looking at you like he has already thought of thirty-five ways that he could kill you, you just don't ask.

Somehow I managed to slip "the Neck's" noose and start up a little private affair of my own -- on the east side. I had to get as far away as possible from the behemoth. It was slow-going at first, until the day she walked into my office.

She was no babe. She looked like she had seen too much in her twenty odd years. She had. Her name was Sally Mallone.

She liked to joke that she was "40 pounds shy of stunning," but there was more to her than that. More than the typical head-turning dame you'd see walking down the streets, high heels clickety clicking on the pavement. Her gravelly voice, the confident way her eyes met yours, the way she drank like a sailor on shore leave; those were some of the reasons why I fell into her trap.

Sally was once a man. That would bother most folks around here, but I knew what was good for me. She was clearly a woman now. It was awkward at first, when I noticed the erratic stubble that would pop up now and then. But hey, everybody has their flaws right?

"You're thinking about when you first met her, aren't you?" said the Fat Man, breaking my reverie. "Yes, we all think of her from time to time. She has that effect.

"But tell me Dick, when did you first find out?"

And the Fat Man smiled as he lit a cigarello.
nycwriters is offline   Reply With Quote
Old 01-29-2003, 11:32 AM   #51
sybil
yeah.
 
sybil's Avatar
 
Join Date: Jan 2003
Location: boston
Posts: 78
The streetlight cast shadows upon those walking solitary down this lonely strip of road. Walking down the street in the heavy mist brought back distant memories.
There was Joey Pellagrino, leaning against the corner of 5th and broadway, catching awkward glances from teenage girls who were out past there curfew.
He fished out a Russian cigarette, from a pack that once belonged to a dead guy, and lit it.
The sky was a tense purple, close to the same color the dead guy had been just after the pillow was finished taking him out.

That's the way business had always been done in this town, cold and discreet - my meeting tonight would be no different.

"So, do you have it?" asked a man who came out of the shadows, his breath puffing out like smoke in the cold night air.

A rookie, "Got a light?", I enquired as I cooley reached for my menthols in my inside jacket pocket. He cupped his hands to shield the match from the biting breeze and the flame danced across his face.

He shuffled his feet, unsure of what to say next; my steely calm left his previous resolve shaken.
I pulled long and deep on my favourite brand and exhaled, "Thanks buddy, I've got what you want, but first i need to know..."

"yeah I know what you need to know," he said, visibly shaken, "... HE sent me. Now let's get on with it."
He looked like he was packing, but didn't know what to do with it.

I smirked. "Look pal, you can do this the easy way, or we can do it it the hard way, don't fuss this gig up."

"Don't fuss this gig up?" he queried, "so its true that your side has a strict no-swearing policy? Is the monkey rumour true too? Geez, wait til HIS boys here about this!"

I took one long look at him; obviously this kid was not only a novice but on some kind of them psychadelic drugs the long haired hippies sold down at the park.

"Alright old timer here's the folder you requested," he was starting to sweat, i could see where he'd damped the paper with his palms.

I was about to take it when I heard something behind me.
I ducked down instinctively, as I heard the last heavy footstep that gave leverage for the punch that sailed an inch above my head.

The novice went down like a sack of potatoes; I turned to see who landed that blow. My curiousity was greeted with a gun barrel, pressed hard to my cheek.

Ducked down I could see his black loafers, but recognised the dry wit in his voice just as well, he said, "Good evening John, nice night for a stroll."

It was Sal, one of my boys from back in the old neighborhood -- it'd been a good decade since I had seen him last -- and he hadn't changed a burly bit.

His once clean shaven face was thick with hair.... he looked mysterious almost like...no it couldn't be, he removed the gun from my cheek and we stared at eachother.

"You asshole," I spat, rubbing my cheek were the cold steel had been. "You almost nailed me -- if I hadn't ducked...."

CRACK! I flinched then turned to see who got in the way of Sal's 9mm bullet. The shmuck was halfway down the alley hurtling through some empty garbage cans.

"Jesus Sal, who are these guys and why are you here? That's twice I owe you now!"

"Joey said you might need a hand," motioning to Pellagrino still standing on the corner scoping out the girls walking by -- I'd forgotten he was there. "But let's get out of here, we have to talk."

The cab stopped in front of the old run down Bernhardt hotel. I tipped the greaseball a buck or two, and Joey led the way to the lobby with his umbrella.

Sal had stayed in the cab when we got there, which, for some reason, had left me with a feeling of malaise. I made my way through the dizzingly massive revolving doors, and the door man pointed over to the elevator, as if he was expecting my visit.

It was almost as if he knew me but no I was in for a shock and i knew it but what i didn't know was what except we... stopped in front of pair of large black doors with golden handles.

The door opened. Sitting behind an ornate desk was THE fattest man I've ever seen in my life. He was wearing a tutu. And it was pink.

"So," the tutu-wearing fat man behind the desk said. "We finally meet."

"So you're HIM," I said staring in disbelief of the man's enormous stature "the big man, the head cheese, the Hungry-Hungry Hippo."

Big man was speechless. How could I ever be so insolent? He coughed and reached into the left drawer of his desk. He pulled out a tiny monkey. He put it in his pocket.

I was speechless. For one, how could a monkey that small even exist? For another; I had forgotten to bring the package that the rookie dropped as he fell.

"Looks like you're packing a little snack. Are we going somewhere?" I asked. Anything to divert attention while i tried to figure out how to get the package without him noticing.

Just then Joey Pellagrino burst into the room; eyes crazed, blood dripping from a gaping wound in his shoulder. There was an amazing amount of guacamole on his chin too.

"You... forgot... this..." he managed to stammer, as the package fell to the floor. Joey followed, a technicolor Rorschach.

Joey was always stealing the spotlight that way -- it always had to be about him. I coughed, and bent down to pick up the, now-soiled, package. The click of the hammer locking back, the cold barrel against my head, haven't we been here before?

Before we get back to me, the gun, the package and the fat man, I suppose I should introduce myself. My name is Dick. Dick Friendly (or that's what the girls call me anyhow), and there's a million naked stories in the city. I'm in most of them.

I got my start in a shady little office on the west side. The man in charge went by the name "Jimmy the Neck." Maybe it was on the count of his 21 inch neck. Could also have been because of the 9 inch scar on said neck, who knows. When a guy like that is looking at you like he has already thought of thirty-five ways that he could kill you, you just don't ask.

Somehow I managed to slip "the Neck's" noose and start up a little private affair of my own -- on the east side. I had to get as far away as possible from the behemoth. It was slow-going at first, until the day she walked into my office.

She was no babe. She looked like she had seen too much in her twenty odd years. She had. Her name was Sally Mallone.

She liked to joke that she was "40 pounds shy of stunning," but there was more to her than that. More than the typical head-turning dame you'd see walking down the streets, high heels clickety clicking on the pavement. Her gravelly voice, the confident way her eyes met yours, the way she drank like a sailor on shore leave; those were some of the reasons why I fell into her trap.

Sally was once a man. That would bother most folks around here, but I knew what was good for me. She was clearly a woman now. It was awkward at first, when I noticed the erratic stubble that would pop up now and then. But hey, everybody has their flaws right?

"You're thinking about when you first met her, aren't you?" said the Fat Man, breaking my reverie. "Yes, we all think of her from time to time. She has that effect.

"But tell me Dick, when did you first find out?"

And the Fat Man smiled as he lit a cigarello.

Bastard. He knew the whole story. He had sent Sally to me. You see, the Fat Man was Sally's father. He knew I would fall for her charms. He knew she could trust me. He loved his kid, didn't even mind that his son was now his daughter. Still, he knew what the rest of the world thought of people like Sally and he knew I was one of the few that would help.
sybil is offline   Reply With Quote
Old 01-29-2003, 07:49 PM   #52
noxxville
Disco Maven
 
noxxville's Avatar
 
Join Date: Dec 2002
Location: NC...seriously....how did that happen?
Posts: 2,024
The streetlight cast shadows upon those walking solitary down this lonely strip of road. Walking down the street in the heavy mist brought back distant memories.
There was Joey Pellagrino, leaning against the corner of 5th and broadway, catching awkward glances from teenage girls who were out past there curfew.
He fished out a Russian cigarette, from a pack that once belonged to a dead guy, and lit it.
The sky was a tense purple, close to the same color the dead guy had been just after the pillow was finished taking him out.

That's the way business had always been done in this town, cold and discreet - my meeting tonight would be no different.

"So, do you have it?" asked a man who came out of the shadows, his breath puffing out like smoke in the cold night air.

A rookie, "Got a light?", I enquired as I cooley reached for my menthols in my inside jacket pocket. He cupped his hands to shield the match from the biting breeze and the flame danced across his face.

He shuffled his feet, unsure of what to say next; my steely calm left his previous resolve shaken.
I pulled long and deep on my favourite brand and exhaled, "Thanks buddy, I've got what you want, but first i need to know..."

"yeah I know what you need to know," he said, visibly shaken, "... HE sent me. Now let's get on with it."
He looked like he was packing, but didn't know what to do with it.

I smirked. "Look pal, you can do this the easy way, or we can do it it the hard way, don't fuss this gig up."

"Don't fuss this gig up?" he queried, "so its true that your side has a strict no-swearing policy? Is the monkey rumour true too? Geez, wait til HIS boys here about this!"

I took one long look at him; obviously this kid was not only a novice but on some kind of them psychadelic drugs the long haired hippies sold down at the park.

"Alright old timer here's the folder you requested," he was starting to sweat, i could see where he'd damped the paper with his palms.

I was about to take it when I heard something behind me.
I ducked down instinctively, as I heard the last heavy footstep that gave leverage for the punch that sailed an inch above my head.

The novice went down like a sack of potatoes; I turned to see who landed that blow. My curiousity was greeted with a gun barrel, pressed hard to my cheek.

Ducked down I could see his black loafers, but recognised the dry wit in his voice just as well, he said, "Good evening John, nice night for a stroll."

It was Sal, one of my boys from back in the old neighborhood -- it'd been a good decade since I had seen him last -- and he hadn't changed a burly bit.

His once clean shaven face was thick with hair.... he looked mysterious almost like...no it couldn't be, he removed the gun from my cheek and we stared at eachother.

"You asshole," I spat, rubbing my cheek were the cold steel had been. "You almost nailed me -- if I hadn't ducked...."

CRACK! I flinched then turned to see who got in the way of Sal's 9mm bullet. The shmuck was halfway down the alley hurtling through some empty garbage cans.

"Jesus Sal, who are these guys and why are you here? That's twice I owe you now!"

"Joey said you might need a hand," motioning to Pellagrino still standing on the corner scoping out the girls walking by -- I'd forgotten he was there. "But let's get out of here, we have to talk."

The cab stopped in front of the old run down Bernhardt hotel. I tipped the greaseball a buck or two, and Joey led the way to the lobby with his umbrella.

Sal had stayed in the cab when we got there, which, for some reason, had left me with a feeling of malaise. I made my way through the dizzingly massive revolving doors, and the door man pointed over to the elevator, as if he was expecting my visit.

It was almost as if he knew me but no I was in for a shock and i knew it but what i didn't know was what except we... stopped in front of pair of large black doors with golden handles.

The door opened. Sitting behind an ornate desk was THE fattest man I've ever seen in my life. He was wearing a tutu. And it was pink.

"So," the tutu-wearing fat man behind the desk said. "We finally meet."

"So you're HIM," I said staring in disbelief of the man's enormous stature "the big man, the head cheese, the Hungry-Hungry Hippo."

Big man was speechless. How could I ever be so insolent? He coughed and reached into the left drawer of his desk. He pulled out a tiny monkey. He put it in his pocket.

I was speechless. For one, how could a monkey that small even exist? For another; I had forgotten to bring the package that the rookie dropped as he fell.

"Looks like you're packing a little snack. Are we going somewhere?" I asked. Anything to divert attention while i tried to figure out how to get the package without him noticing.

Just then Joey Pellagrino burst into the room; eyes crazed, blood dripping from a gaping wound in his shoulder. There was an amazing amount of guacamole on his chin too.

"You... forgot... this..." he managed to stammer, as the package fell to the floor. Joey followed, a technicolor Rorschach.

Joey was always stealing the spotlight that way -- it always had to be about him. I coughed, and bent down to pick up the, now-soiled, package. The click of the hammer locking back, the cold barrel against my head, haven't we been here before?

Before we get back to me, the gun, the package and the fat man, I suppose I should introduce myself. My name is Dick. Dick Friendly (or that's what the girls call me anyhow), and there's a million naked stories in the city. I'm in most of them.

I got my start in a shady little office on the west side. The man in charge went by the name "Jimmy the Neck." Maybe it was on the count of his 21 inch neck. Could also have been because of the 9 inch scar on said neck, who knows. When a guy like that is looking at you like he has already thought of thirty-five ways that he could kill you, you just don't ask.

Somehow I managed to slip "the Neck's" noose and start up a little private affair of my own -- on the east side. I had to get as far away as possible from the behemoth. It was slow-going at first, until the day she walked into my office.

She was no babe. She looked like she had seen too much in her twenty odd years. She had. Her name was Sally Mallone.

She liked to joke that she was "40 pounds shy of stunning," but there was more to her than that. More than the typical head-turning dame you'd see walking down the streets, high heels clickety clicking on the pavement. Her gravelly voice, the confident way her eyes met yours, the way she drank like a sailor on shore leave; those were some of the reasons why I fell into her trap.

Sally was once a man. That would bother most folks around here, but I knew what was good for me. She was clearly a woman now. It was awkward at first, when I noticed the erratic stubble that would pop up now and then. But hey, everybody has their flaws right?

"You're thinking about when you first met her, aren't you?" said the Fat Man, breaking my reverie. "Yes, we all think of her from time to time. She has that effect.

"But tell me Dick, when did you first find out?"

And the Fat Man smiled as he lit a cigarello.

Bastard. He knew the whole story. He had sent Sally to me. You see, the Fat Man was Sally's father. He knew I would fall for her charms. He knew she could trust me. He loved his kid, didn't even mind that his son was now his daughter. Still, he knew what the rest of the world thought of people like Sally and he knew I was one of the few that would help.

Because I was one of them too. Fitting that I chose the name "Dick". I was born Elizabeth Sunshine Jackson. From day one, my mother knew something wasn't right with me. It was too much for her to handle and she left me on the doorstep of a poor Armenian couple when I was 8 months old.

They did what they could, tried to take care of me as if I was one of their own. The doctor's prognosis about my little "thingie" wasn't what they expected either. A few surgeries and I was as good as male.

I traked her down later, my mother. Didn't say "hi" didn't even speak to her. I just sat in the shadows judging her. She wasn't hard to find, and I enjoyed to search. That's how I got into this gig.
__________________
Call that guy butter because he's on a roll!
noxxville is offline   Reply With Quote
Old 01-29-2003, 08:06 PM   #53
nycwriters
Stuck in T.O.
 
Join Date: Oct 2002
Location: Floundering
Posts: 4,134
The streetlight cast shadows upon those walking solitary down this lonely strip of road. Walking down the street in the heavy mist brought back distant memories.
There was Joey Pellagrino, leaning against the corner of 5th and broadway, catching awkward glances from teenage girls who were out past there curfew.
He fished out a Russian cigarette, from a pack that once belonged to a dead guy, and lit it.
The sky was a tense purple, close to the same color the dead guy had been just after the pillow was finished taking him out.

That's the way business had always been done in this town, cold and discreet - my meeting tonight would be no different.

"So, do you have it?" asked a man who came out of the shadows, his breath puffing out like smoke in the cold night air.

A rookie, "Got a light?", I enquired as I cooley reached for my menthols in my inside jacket pocket. He cupped his hands to shield the match from the biting breeze and the flame danced across his face.

He shuffled his feet, unsure of what to say next; my steely calm left his previous resolve shaken.
I pulled long and deep on my favourite brand and exhaled, "Thanks buddy, I've got what you want, but first i need to know..."

"yeah I know what you need to know," he said, visibly shaken, "... HE sent me. Now let's get on with it."
He looked like he was packing, but didn't know what to do with it.

I smirked. "Look pal, you can do this the easy way, or we can do it it the hard way, don't fuss this gig up."

"Don't fuss this gig up?" he queried, "so its true that your side has a strict no-swearing policy? Is the monkey rumour true too? Geez, wait til HIS boys here about this!"

I took one long look at him; obviously this kid was not only a novice but on some kind of them psychadelic drugs the long haired hippies sold down at the park.

"Alright old timer here's the folder you requested," he was starting to sweat, i could see where he'd damped the paper with his palms.

I was about to take it when I heard something behind me.
I ducked down instinctively, as I heard the last heavy footstep that gave leverage for the punch that sailed an inch above my head.

The novice went down like a sack of potatoes; I turned to see who landed that blow. My curiousity was greeted with a gun barrel, pressed hard to my cheek.

Ducked down I could see his black loafers, but recognised the dry wit in his voice just as well, he said, "Good evening John, nice night for a stroll."

It was Sal, one of my boys from back in the old neighborhood -- it'd been a good decade since I had seen him last -- and he hadn't changed a burly bit.

His once clean shaven face was thick with hair.... he looked mysterious almost like...no it couldn't be, he removed the gun from my cheek and we stared at eachother.

"You asshole," I spat, rubbing my cheek were the cold steel had been. "You almost nailed me -- if I hadn't ducked...."

CRACK! I flinched then turned to see who got in the way of Sal's 9mm bullet. The shmuck was halfway down the alley hurtling through some empty garbage cans.

"Jesus Sal, who are these guys and why are you here? That's twice I owe you now!"

"Joey said you might need a hand," motioning to Pellagrino still standing on the corner scoping out the girls walking by -- I'd forgotten he was there. "But let's get out of here, we have to talk."

The cab stopped in front of the old run down Bernhardt hotel. I tipped the greaseball a buck or two, and Joey led the way to the lobby with his umbrella.

Sal had stayed in the cab when we got there, which, for some reason, had left me with a feeling of malaise. I made my way through the dizzingly massive revolving doors, and the door man pointed over to the elevator, as if he was expecting my visit.

It was almost as if he knew me but no I was in for a shock and i knew it but what i didn't know was what except we... stopped in front of pair of large black doors with golden handles.

The door opened. Sitting behind an ornate desk was THE fattest man I've ever seen in my life. He was wearing a tutu. And it was pink.

"So," the tutu-wearing fat man behind the desk said. "We finally meet."

"So you're HIM," I said staring in disbelief of the man's enormous stature "the big man, the head cheese, the Hungry-Hungry Hippo."

Big man was speechless. How could I ever be so insolent? He coughed and reached into the left drawer of his desk. He pulled out a tiny monkey. He put it in his pocket.

I was speechless. For one, how could a monkey that small even exist? For another; I had forgotten to bring the package that the rookie dropped as he fell.

"Looks like you're packing a little snack. Are we going somewhere?" I asked. Anything to divert attention while i tried to figure out how to get the package without him noticing.

Just then Joey Pellagrino burst into the room; eyes crazed, blood dripping from a gaping wound in his shoulder. There was an amazing amount of guacamole on his chin too.

"You... forgot... this..." he managed to stammer, as the package fell to the floor. Joey followed, a technicolor Rorschach.

Joey was always stealing the spotlight that way -- it always had to be about him. I coughed, and bent down to pick up the, now-soiled, package. The click of the hammer locking back, the cold barrel against my head, haven't we been here before?

Before we get back to me, the gun, the package and the fat man, I suppose I should introduce myself. My name is Dick. Dick Friendly (or that's what the girls call me anyhow), and there's a million naked stories in the city. I'm in most of them.

I got my start in a shady little office on the west side. The man in charge went by the name "Jimmy the Neck." Maybe it was on the count of his 21 inch neck. Could also have been because of the 9 inch scar on said neck, who knows. When a guy like that is looking at you like he has already thought of thirty-five ways that he could kill you, you just don't ask.

Somehow I managed to slip "the Neck's" noose and start up a little private affair of my own -- on the east side. I had to get as far away as possible from the behemoth. It was slow-going at first, until the day she walked into my office.

She was no babe. She looked like she had seen too much in her twenty odd years. She had. Her name was Sally Mallone.

She liked to joke that she was "40 pounds shy of stunning," but there was more to her than that. More than the typical head-turning dame you'd see walking down the streets, high heels clickety clicking on the pavement. Her gravelly voice, the confident way her eyes met yours, the way she drank like a sailor on shore leave; those were some of the reasons why I fell into her trap.

Sally was once a man. That would bother most folks around here, but I knew what was good for me. She was clearly a woman now. It was awkward at first, when I noticed the erratic stubble that would pop up now and then. But hey, everybody has their flaws right?

"You're thinking about when you first met her, aren't you?" said the Fat Man, breaking my reverie. "Yes, we all think of her from time to time. She has that effect.

"But tell me Dick, when did you first find out?"

And the Fat Man smiled as he lit a cigarello.

Bastard. He knew the whole story. He had sent Sally to me. You see, the Fat Man was Sally's father. He knew I would fall for her charms. He knew she could trust me. He loved his kid, didn't even mind that his son was now his daughter. Still, he knew what the rest of the world thought of people like Sally and he knew I was one of the few that would help.

Because I was one of them too. Fitting that I chose the name "Dick". I was born Elizabeth Sunshine Jackson. From day one, my mother knew something wasn't right with me. It was too much for her to handle and she left me on the doorstep of a poor Armenian couple when I was 8 months old.

They did what they could, tried to take care of me as if I was one of their own. The doctor's prognosis about my little "thingie" wasn't what they expected either. A few surgeries and I was as good as male.

I traked her down later, my mother. Didn't say "hi" didn't even speak to her. I just sat in the shadows judging her. She wasn't hard to find, and I enjoyed to search. That's how I got into this gig.

But I digress. I scooped up the package from Joey's dead corpse, making sure to steer clear of the guacomole and with a big "thwump" tossed it onto the Fat Man's desk. The feel of cold steel against my temple vanished. The gun unclocked.

He chomped on his cigarello, considering the object in front of him. Then his eyes looked up and met mine.

Last edited by nycwriters : 01-29-2003 at 08:09 PM.
nycwriters is offline   Reply With Quote
Old 01-30-2003, 05:33 PM   #54
sybil
yeah.
 
sybil's Avatar
 
Join Date: Jan 2003
Location: boston
Posts: 78
The streetlight cast shadows upon those walking solitary down this lonely strip of road. Walking down the street in the heavy mist brought back distant memories.
There was Joey Pellagrino, leaning against the corner of 5th and broadway, catching awkward glances from teenage girls who were out past there curfew.
He fished out a Russian cigarette, from a pack that once belonged to a dead guy, and lit it.
The sky was a tense purple, close to the same color the dead guy had been just after the pillow was finished taking him out.

That's the way business had always been done in this town, cold and discreet - my meeting tonight would be no different.

"So, do you have it?" asked a man who came out of the shadows, his breath puffing out like smoke in the cold night air.

A rookie, "Got a light?", I enquired as I cooley reached for my menthols in my inside jacket pocket. He cupped his hands to shield the match from the biting breeze and the flame danced across his face.

He shuffled his feet, unsure of what to say next; my steely calm left his previous resolve shaken.
I pulled long and deep on my favourite brand and exhaled, "Thanks buddy, I've got what you want, but first i need to know..."

"yeah I know what you need to know," he said, visibly shaken, "... HE sent me. Now let's get on with it."
He looked like he was packing, but didn't know what to do with it.

I smirked. "Look pal, you can do this the easy way, or we can do it it the hard way, don't fuss this gig up."

"Don't fuss this gig up?" he queried, "so its true that your side has a strict no-swearing policy? Is the monkey rumour true too? Geez, wait til HIS boys here about this!"

I took one long look at him; obviously this kid was not only a novice but on some kind of them psychadelic drugs the long haired hippies sold down at the park.

"Alright old timer here's the folder you requested," he was starting to sweat, i could see where he'd damped the paper with his palms.

I was about to take it when I heard something behind me.
I ducked down instinctively, as I heard the last heavy footstep that gave leverage for the punch that sailed an inch above my head.

The novice went down like a sack of potatoes; I turned to see who landed that blow. My curiousity was greeted with a gun barrel, pressed hard to my cheek.

Ducked down I could see his black loafers, but recognised the dry wit in his voice just as well, he said, "Good evening John, nice night for a stroll."

It was Sal, one of my boys from back in the old neighborhood -- it'd been a good decade since I had seen him last -- and he hadn't changed a burly bit.

His once clean shaven face was thick with hair.... he looked mysterious almost like...no it couldn't be, he removed the gun from my cheek and we stared at eachother.

"You asshole," I spat, rubbing my cheek were the cold steel had been. "You almost nailed me -- if I hadn't ducked...."

CRACK! I flinched then turned to see who got in the way of Sal's 9mm bullet. The shmuck was halfway down the alley hurtling through some empty garbage cans.

"Jesus Sal, who are these guys and why are you here? That's twice I owe you now!"

"Joey said you might need a hand," motioning to Pellagrino still standing on the corner scoping out the girls walking by -- I'd forgotten he was there. "But let's get out of here, we have to talk."

The cab stopped in front of the old run down Bernhardt hotel. I tipped the greaseball a buck or two, and Joey led the way to the lobby with his umbrella.

Sal had stayed in the cab when we got there, which, for some reason, had left me with a feeling of malaise. I made my way through the dizzingly massive revolving doors, and the door man pointed over to the elevator, as if he was expecting my visit.

It was almost as if he knew me but no I was in for a shock and i knew it but what i didn't know was what except we... stopped in front of pair of large black doors with golden handles.

The door opened. Sitting behind an ornate desk was THE fattest man I've ever seen in my life. He was wearing a tutu. And it was pink.

"So," the tutu-wearing fat man behind the desk said. "We finally meet."

"So you're HIM," I said staring in disbelief of the man's enormous stature "the big man, the head cheese, the Hungry-Hungry Hippo."

Big man was speechless. How could I ever be so insolent? He coughed and reached into the left drawer of his desk. He pulled out a tiny monkey. He put it in his pocket.

I was speechless. For one, how could a monkey that small even exist? For another; I had forgotten to bring the package that the rookie dropped as he fell.

"Looks like you're packing a little snack. Are we going somewhere?" I asked. Anything to divert attention while i tried to figure out how to get the package without him noticing.

Just then Joey Pellagrino burst into the room; eyes crazed, blood dripping from a gaping wound in his shoulder. There was an amazing amount of guacamole on his chin too.

"You... forgot... this..." he managed to stammer, as the package fell to the floor. Joey followed, a technicolor Rorschach.

Joey was always stealing the spotlight that way -- it always had to be about him. I coughed, and bent down to pick up the, now-soiled, package. The click of the hammer locking back, the cold barrel against my head, haven't we been here before?

Before we get back to me, the gun, the package and the fat man, I suppose I should introduce myself. My name is Dick. Dick Friendly (or that's what the girls call me anyhow), and there's a million naked stories in the city. I'm in most of them.

I got my start in a shady little office on the west side. The man in charge went by the name "Jimmy the Neck." Maybe it was on the count of his 21 inch neck. Could also have been because of the 9 inch scar on said neck, who knows. When a guy like that is looking at you like he has already thought of thirty-five ways that he could kill you, you just don't ask.

Somehow I managed to slip "the Neck's" noose and start up a little private affair of my own -- on the east side. I had to get as far away as possible from the behemoth. It was slow-going at first, until the day she walked into my office.

She was no babe. She looked like she had seen too much in her twenty odd years. She had. Her name was Sally Mallone.

She liked to joke that she was "40 pounds shy of stunning," but there was more to her than that. More than the typical head-turning dame you'd see walking down the streets, high heels clickety clicking on the pavement. Her gravelly voice, the confident way her eyes met yours, the way she drank like a sailor on shore leave; those were some of the reasons why I fell into her trap.

Sally was once a man. That would bother most folks around here, but I knew what was good for me. She was clearly a woman now. It was awkward at first, when I noticed the erratic stubble that would pop up now and then. But hey, everybody has their flaws right?

"You're thinking about when you first met her, aren't you?" said the Fat Man, breaking my reverie. "Yes, we all think of her from time to time. She has that effect.

"But tell me Dick, when did you first find out?"

And the Fat Man smiled as he lit a cigarello.

Bastard. He knew the whole story. He had sent Sally to me. You see, the Fat Man was Sally's father. He knew I would fall for her charms. He knew she could trust me. He loved his kid, didn't even mind that his son was now his daughter. Still, he knew what the rest of the world thought of people like Sally and he knew I was one of the few that would help.

Because I was one of them too. Fitting that I chose the name "Dick". I was born Elizabeth Sunshine Jackson. From day one, my mother knew something wasn't right with me. It was too much for her to handle and she left me on the doorstep of a poor Armenian couple when I was 8 months old.

They did what they could, tried to take care of me as if I was one of their own. The doctor's prognosis about my little "thingie" wasn't what they expected either. A few surgeries and I was as good as male.

I traked her down later, my mother. Didn't say "hi" didn't even speak to her. I just sat in the shadows judging her. She wasn't hard to find, and I enjoyed to search. That's how I got into this gig.

But I digress. I scooped up the package from Joey's dead corpse, making sure to steer clear of the guacomole and with a big "thwump" tossed it onto the Fat Man's desk. The feel of cold steel against my temple vanished. The gun unclocked.

He chomped on his cigarello, considering the object in front of him. Then his eyes looked up and met mine.

"This isn't what I ordered" said the Fat Man.
sybil is offline   Reply With Quote
Old 02-01-2003, 03:37 PM   #55
noxxville
Disco Maven
 
noxxville's Avatar
 
Join Date: Dec 2002
Location: NC...seriously....how did that happen?
Posts: 2,024
The streetlight cast shadows upon those walking solitary down this lonely strip of road. Walking down the street in the heavy mist brought back distant memories.
There was Joey Pellagrino, leaning against the corner of 5th and broadway, catching awkward glances from teenage girls who were out past there curfew.
He fished out a Russian cigarette, from a pack that once belonged to a dead guy, and lit it.
The sky was a tense purple, close to the same color the dead guy had been just after the pillow was finished taking him out.

That's the way business had always been done in this town, cold and discreet - my meeting tonight would be no different.

"So, do you have it?" asked a man who came out of the shadows, his breath puffing out like smoke in the cold night air.

A rookie, "Got a light?", I enquired as I cooley reached for my menthols in my inside jacket pocket. He cupped his hands to shield the match from the biting breeze and the flame danced across his face.

He shuffled his feet, unsure of what to say next; my steely calm left his previous resolve shaken.
I pulled long and deep on my favourite brand and exhaled, "Thanks buddy, I've got what you want, but first i need to know..."

"yeah I know what you need to know," he said, visibly shaken, "... HE sent me. Now let's get on with it."
He looked like he was packing, but didn't know what to do with it.

I smirked. "Look pal, you can do this the easy way, or we can do it it the hard way, don't fuss this gig up."

"Don't fuss this gig up?" he queried, "so its true that your side has a strict no-swearing policy? Is the monkey rumour true too? Geez, wait til HIS boys here about this!"

I took one long look at him; obviously this kid was not only a novice but on some kind of them psychadelic drugs the long haired hippies sold down at the park.

"Alright old timer here's the folder you requested," he was starting to sweat, i could see where he'd damped the paper with his palms.

I was about to take it when I heard something behind me.
I ducked down instinctively, as I heard the last heavy footstep that gave leverage for the punch that sailed an inch above my head.

The novice went down like a sack of potatoes; I turned to see who landed that blow. My curiousity was greeted with a gun barrel, pressed hard to my cheek.

Ducked down I could see his black loafers, but recognised the dry wit in his voice just as well, he said, "Good evening John, nice night for a stroll."

It was Sal, one of my boys from back in the old neighborhood -- it'd been a good decade since I had seen him last -- and he hadn't changed a burly bit.

His once clean shaven face was thick with hair.... he looked mysterious almost like...no it couldn't be, he removed the gun from my cheek and we stared at eachother.

"You asshole," I spat, rubbing my cheek were the cold steel had been. "You almost nailed me -- if I hadn't ducked...."

CRACK! I flinched then turned to see who got in the way of Sal's 9mm bullet. The shmuck was halfway down the alley hurtling through some empty garbage cans.

"Jesus Sal, who are these guys and why are you here? That's twice I owe you now!"

"Joey said you might need a hand," motioning to Pellagrino still standing on the corner scoping out the girls walking by -- I'd forgotten he was there. "But let's get out of here, we have to talk."

The cab stopped in front of the old run down Bernhardt hotel. I tipped the greaseball a buck or two, and Joey led the way to the lobby with his umbrella.

Sal had stayed in the cab when we got there, which, for some reason, had left me with a feeling of malaise. I made my way through the dizzingly massive revolving doors, and the door man pointed over to the elevator, as if he was expecting my visit.

It was almost as if he knew me but no I was in for a shock and i knew it but what i didn't know was what except we... stopped in front of pair of large black doors with golden handles.

The door opened. Sitting behind an ornate desk was THE fattest man I've ever seen in my life. He was wearing a tutu. And it was pink.

"So," the tutu-wearing fat man behind the desk said. "We finally meet."

"So you're HIM," I said staring in disbelief of the man's enormous stature "the big man, the head cheese, the Hungry-Hungry Hippo."

Big man was speechless. How could I ever be so insolent? He coughed and reached into the left drawer of his desk. He pulled out a tiny monkey. He put it in his pocket.

I was speechless. For one, how could a monkey that small even exist? For another; I had forgotten to bring the package that the rookie dropped as he fell.

"Looks like you're packing a little snack. Are we going somewhere?" I asked. Anything to divert attention while i tried to figure out how to get the package without him noticing.

Just then Joey Pellagrino burst into the room; eyes crazed, blood dripping from a gaping wound in his shoulder. There was an amazing amount of guacamole on his chin too.

"You... forgot... this..." he managed to stammer, as the package fell to the floor. Joey followed, a technicolor Rorschach.

Joey was always stealing the spotlight that way -- it always had to be about him. I coughed, and bent down to pick up the, now-soiled, package. The click of the hammer locking back, the cold barrel against my head, haven't we been here before?

Before we get back to me, the gun, the package and the fat man, I suppose I should introduce myself. My name is Dick. Dick Friendly (or that's what the girls call me anyhow), and there's a million naked stories in the city. I'm in most of them.

I got my start in a shady little office on the west side. The man in charge went by the name "Jimmy the Neck." Maybe it was on the count of his 21 inch neck. Could also have been because of the 9 inch scar on said neck, who knows. When a guy like that is looking at you like he has already thought of thirty-five ways that he could kill you, you just don't ask.

Somehow I managed to slip "the Neck's" noose and start up a little private affair of my own -- on the east side. I had to get as far away as possible from the behemoth. It was slow-going at first, until the day she walked into my office.

She was no babe. She looked like she had seen too much in her twenty odd years. She had. Her name was Sally Mallone.

She liked to joke that she was "40 pounds shy of stunning," but there was more to her than that. More than the typical head-turning dame you'd see walking down the streets, high heels clickety clicking on the pavement. Her gravelly voice, the confident way her eyes met yours, the way she drank like a sailor on shore leave; those were some of the reasons why I fell into her trap.

Sally was once a man. That would bother most folks around here, but I knew what was good for me. She was clearly a woman now. It was awkward at first, when I noticed the erratic stubble that would pop up now and then. But hey, everybody has their flaws right?

"You're thinking about when you first met her, aren't you?" said the Fat Man, breaking my reverie. "Yes, we all think of her from time to time. She has that effect.

"But tell me Dick, when did you first find out?"

And the Fat Man smiled as he lit a cigarello.

Bastard. He knew the whole story. He had sent Sally to me. You see, the Fat Man was Sally's father. He knew I would fall for her charms. He knew she could trust me. He loved his kid, didn't even mind that his son was now his daughter. Still, he knew what the rest of the world thought of people like Sally and he knew I was one of the few that would help.

Because I was one of them too. Fitting that I chose the name "Dick". I was born Elizabeth Sunshine Jackson. From day one, my mother knew something wasn't right with me. It was too much for her to handle and she left me on the doorstep of a poor Armenian couple when I was 8 months old.

They did what they could, tried to take care of me as if I was one of their own. The doctor's prognosis about my little "thingie" wasn't what they expected either. A few surgeries and I was as good as male.

I traked her down later, my mother. Didn't say "hi" didn't even speak to her. I just sat in the shadows judging her. She wasn't hard to find, and I enjoyed to search. That's how I got into this gig.

But I digress. I scooped up the package from Joey's dead corpse, making sure to steer clear of the guacomole and with a big "thwump" tossed it onto the Fat Man's desk. The feel of cold steel against my temple vanished. The gun unclocked.

He chomped on his cigarello, considering the object in front of him. Then his eyes looked up and met mine.

"This isn't what I ordered" said the Fat Man.

'Oh shit' I thought to myself. I was in deep now, no turning back.
__________________
Call that guy butter because he's on a roll!
noxxville is offline   Reply With Quote
Old 02-06-2003, 09:13 PM   #56
nycwriters
Stuck in T.O.
 
Join Date: Oct 2002
Location: Floundering
Posts: 4,134
The streetlight cast shadows upon those walking solitary down this lonely strip of road. Walking down the street in the heavy mist brought back distant memories.
There was Joey Pellagrino, leaning against the corner of 5th and broadway, catching awkward glances from teenage girls who were out past there curfew.
He fished out a Russian cigarette, from a pack that once belonged to a dead guy, and lit it.
The sky was a tense purple, close to the same color the dead guy had been just after the pillow was finished taking him out.

That's the way business had always been done in this town, cold and discreet - my meeting tonight would be no different.

"So, do you have it?" asked a man who came out of the shadows, his breath puffing out like smoke in the cold night air.

A rookie, "Got a light?", I enquired as I cooley reached for my menthols in my inside jacket pocket. He cupped his hands to shield the match from the biting breeze and the flame danced across his face.

He shuffled his feet, unsure of what to say next; my steely calm left his previous resolve shaken.
I pulled long and deep on my favourite brand and exhaled, "Thanks buddy, I've got what you want, but first i need to know..."

"yeah I know what you need to know," he said, visibly shaken, "... HE sent me. Now let's get on with it."
He looked like he was packing, but didn't know what to do with it.

I smirked. "Look pal, you can do this the easy way, or we can do it it the hard way, don't fuss this gig up."

"Don't fuss this gig up?" he queried, "so its true that your side has a strict no-swearing policy? Is the monkey rumour true too? Geez, wait til HIS boys here about this!"

I took one long look at him; obviously this kid was not only a novice but on some kind of them psychadelic drugs the long haired hippies sold down at the park.

"Alright old timer here's the folder you requested," he was starting to sweat, i could see where he'd damped the paper with his palms.

I was about to take it when I heard something behind me.
I ducked down instinctively, as I heard the last heavy footstep that gave leverage for the punch that sailed an inch above my head.

The novice went down like a sack of potatoes; I turned to see who landed that blow. My curiousity was greeted with a gun barrel, pressed hard to my cheek.

Ducked down I could see his black loafers, but recognised the dry wit in his voice just as well, he said, "Good evening John, nice night for a stroll."

It was Sal, one of my boys from back in the old neighborhood -- it'd been a good decade since I had seen him last -- and he hadn't changed a burly bit.

His once clean shaven face was thick with hair.... he looked mysterious almost like...no it couldn't be, he removed the gun from my cheek and we stared at eachother.

"You asshole," I spat, rubbing my cheek were the cold steel had been. "You almost nailed me -- if I hadn't ducked...."

CRACK! I flinched then turned to see who got in the way of Sal's 9mm bullet. The shmuck was halfway down the alley hurtling through some empty garbage cans.

"Jesus Sal, who are these guys and why are you here? That's twice I owe you now!"

"Joey said you might need a hand," motioning to Pellagrino still standing on the corner scoping out the girls walking by -- I'd forgotten he was there. "But let's get out of here, we have to talk."

The cab stopped in front of the old run down Bernhardt hotel. I tipped the greaseball a buck or two, and Joey led the way to the lobby with his umbrella.

Sal had stayed in the cab when we got there, which, for some reason, had left me with a feeling of malaise. I made my way through the dizzingly massive revolving doors, and the door man pointed over to the elevator, as if he was expecting my visit.

It was almost as if he knew me but no I was in for a shock and i knew it but what i didn't know was what except we... stopped in front of pair of large black doors with golden handles.

The door opened. Sitting behind an ornate desk was THE fattest man I've ever seen in my life. He was wearing a tutu. And it was pink.

"So," the tutu-wearing fat man behind the desk said. "We finally meet."

"So you're HIM," I said staring in disbelief of the man's enormous stature "the big man, the head cheese, the Hungry-Hungry Hippo."

Big man was speechless. How could I ever be so insolent? He coughed and reached into the left drawer of his desk. He pulled out a tiny monkey. He put it in his pocket.

I was speechless. For one, how could a monkey that small even exist? For another; I had forgotten to bring the package that the rookie dropped as he fell.

"Looks like you're packing a little snack. Are we going somewhere?" I asked. Anything to divert attention while i tried to figure out how to get the package without him noticing.

Just then Joey Pellagrino burst into the room; eyes crazed, blood dripping from a gaping wound in his shoulder. There was an amazing amount of guacamole on his chin too.

"You... forgot... this..." he managed to stammer, as the package fell to the floor. Joey followed, a technicolor Rorschach.

Joey was always stealing the spotlight that way -- it always had to be about him. I coughed, and bent down to pick up the, now-soiled, package. The click of the hammer locking back, the cold barrel against my head, haven't we been here before?

Before we get back to me, the gun, the package and the fat man, I suppose I should introduce myself. My name is Dick. Dick Friendly (or that's what the girls call me anyhow), and there's a million naked stories in the city. I'm in most of them.

I got my start in a shady little office on the west side. The man in charge went by the name "Jimmy the Neck." Maybe it was on the count of his 21 inch neck. Could also have been because of the 9 inch scar on said neck, who knows. When a guy like that is looking at you like he has already thought of thirty-five ways that he could kill you, you just don't ask.

Somehow I managed to slip "the Neck's" noose and start up a little private affair of my own -- on the east side. I had to get as far away as possible from the behemoth. It was slow-going at first, until the day she walked into my office.

She was no babe. She looked like she had seen too much in her twenty odd years. She had. Her name was Sally Mallone.

She liked to joke that she was "40 pounds shy of stunning," but there was more to her than that. More than the typical head-turning dame you'd see walking down the streets, high heels clickety clicking on the pavement. Her gravelly voice, the confident way her eyes met yours, the way she drank like a sailor on shore leave; those were some of the reasons why I fell into her trap.

Sally was once a man. That would bother most folks around here, but I knew what was good for me. She was clearly a woman now. It was awkward at first, when I noticed the erratic stubble that would pop up now and then. But hey, everybody has their flaws right?

"You're thinking about when you first met her, aren't you?" said the Fat Man, breaking my reverie. "Yes, we all think of her from time to time. She has that effect.

"But tell me Dick, when did you first find out?"

And the Fat Man smiled as he lit a cigarello.

Bastard. He knew the whole story. He had sent Sally to me. You see, the Fat Man was Sally's father. He knew I would fall for her charms. He knew she could trust me. He loved his kid, didn't even mind that his son was now his daughter. Still, he knew what the rest of the world thought of people like Sally and he knew I was one of the few that would help.

Because I was one of them too. Fitting that I chose the name "Dick". I was born Elizabeth Sunshine Jackson. From day one, my mother knew something wasn't right with me. It was too much for her to handle and she left me on the doorstep of a poor Armenian couple when I was 8 months old.

They did what they could, tried to take care of me as if I was one of their own. The doctor's prognosis about my little "thingie" wasn't what they expected either. A few surgeries and I was as good as male.

I traked her down later, my mother. Didn't say "hi" didn't even speak to her. I just sat in the shadows judging her. She wasn't hard to find, and I enjoyed to search. That's how I got into this gig.

But I digress. I scooped up the package from Joey's dead corpse, making sure to steer clear of the guacomole and with a big "thwump" tossed it onto the Fat Man's desk. The feel of cold steel against my temple vanished. The gun unclocked.

He chomped on his cigarello, considering the object in front of him. Then his eyes looked up and met mine.

"This isn't what I ordered" said the Fat Man.

'Oh shit' I thought to myself. I was in deep now, no turning back.

The door opened. In walked Sally with Sal, a smug smile on her face.

"Daddddddy," she squealed and ran to her father, gingerly stepping over guacamole Joey.

Sal stood in the dark shadows at the back of the room, smoking yet another cigarette.
nycwriters is offline   Reply With Quote
Old 02-08-2003, 06:57 PM   #57
noxxville
Disco Maven
 
noxxville's Avatar
 
Join Date: Dec 2002
Location: NC...seriously....how did that happen?
Posts: 2,024
The streetlight cast shadows upon those walking solitary down this lonely strip of road. Walking down the street in the heavy mist brought back distant memories.
There was Joey Pellagrino, leaning against the corner of 5th and broadway, catching awkward glances from teenage girls who were out past there curfew.
He fished out a Russian cigarette, from a pack that once belonged to a dead guy, and lit it.
The sky was a tense purple, close to the same color the dead guy had been just after the pillow was finished taking him out.

That's the way business had always been done in this town, cold and discreet - my meeting tonight would be no different.

"So, do you have it?" asked a man who came out of the shadows, his breath puffing out like smoke in the cold night air.

A rookie, "Got a light?", I enquired as I cooley reached for my menthols in my inside jacket pocket. He cupped his hands to shield the match from the biting breeze and the flame danced across his face.

He shuffled his feet, unsure of what to say next; my steely calm left his previous resolve shaken.
I pulled long and deep on my favourite brand and exhaled, "Thanks buddy, I've got what you want, but first i need to know..."

"yeah I know what you need to know," he said, visibly shaken, "... HE sent me. Now let's get on with it."
He looked like he was packing, but didn't know what to do with it.

I smirked. "Look pal, you can do this the easy way, or we can do it it the hard way, don't fuss this gig up."

"Don't fuss this gig up?" he queried, "so its true that your side has a strict no-swearing policy? Is the monkey rumour true too? Geez, wait til HIS boys here about this!"

I took one long look at him; obviously this kid was not only a novice but on some kind of them psychadelic drugs the long haired hippies sold down at the park.

"Alright old timer here's the folder you requested," he was starting to sweat, i could see where he'd damped the paper with his palms.

I was about to take it when I heard something behind me.
I ducked down instinctively, as I heard the last heavy footstep that gave leverage for the punch that sailed an inch above my head.

The novice went down like a sack of potatoes; I turned to see who landed that blow. My curiousity was greeted with a gun barrel, pressed hard to my cheek.

Ducked down I could see his black loafers, but recognised the dry wit in his voice just as well, he said, "Good evening John, nice night for a stroll."

It was Sal, one of my boys from back in the old neighborhood -- it'd been a good decade since I had seen him last -- and he hadn't changed a burly bit.

His once clean shaven face was thick with hair.... he looked mysterious almost like...no it couldn't be, he removed the gun from my cheek and we stared at eachother.

"You asshole," I spat, rubbing my cheek were the cold steel had been. "You almost nailed me -- if I hadn't ducked...."

CRACK! I flinched then turned to see who got in the way of Sal's 9mm bullet. The shmuck was halfway down the alley hurtling through some empty garbage cans.

"Jesus Sal, who are these guys and why are you here? That's twice I owe you now!"

"Joey said you might need a hand," motioning to Pellagrino still standing on the corner scoping out the girls walking by -- I'd forgotten he was there. "But let's get out of here, we have to talk."

The cab stopped in front of the old run down Bernhardt hotel. I tipped the greaseball a buck or two, and Joey led the way to the lobby with his umbrella.

Sal had stayed in the cab when we got there, which, for some reason, had left me with a feeling of malaise. I made my way through the dizzingly massive revolving doors, and the door man pointed over to the elevator, as if he was expecting my visit.

It was almost as if he knew me but no I was in for a shock and i knew it but what i didn't know was what except we... stopped in front of pair of large black doors with golden handles.

The door opened. Sitting behind an ornate desk was THE fattest man I've ever seen in my life. He was wearing a tutu. And it was pink.

"So," the tutu-wearing fat man behind the desk said. "We finally meet."

"So you're HIM," I said staring in disbelief of the man's enormous stature "the big man, the head cheese, the Hungry-Hungry Hippo."

Big man was speechless. How could I ever be so insolent? He coughed and reached into the left drawer of his desk. He pulled out a tiny monkey. He put it in his pocket.

I was speechless. For one, how could a monkey that small even exist? For another; I had forgotten to bring the package that the rookie dropped as he fell.

"Looks like you're packing a little snack. Are we going somewhere?" I asked. Anything to divert attention while i tried to figure out how to get the package without him noticing.

Just then Joey Pellagrino burst into the room; eyes crazed, blood dripping from a gaping wound in his shoulder. There was an amazing amount of guacamole on his chin too.

"You... forgot... this..." he managed to stammer, as the package fell to the floor. Joey followed, a technicolor Rorschach.

Joey was always stealing the spotlight that way -- it always had to be about him. I coughed, and bent down to pick up the, now-soiled, package. The click of the hammer locking back, the cold barrel against my head, haven't we been here before?

Before we get back to me, the gun, the package and the fat man, I suppose I should introduce myself. My name is Dick. Dick Friendly (or that's what the girls call me anyhow), and there's a million naked stories in the city. I'm in most of them.

I got my start in a shady little office on the west side. The man in charge went by the name "Jimmy the Neck." Maybe it was on the count of his 21 inch neck. Could also have been because of the 9 inch scar on said neck, who knows. When a guy like that is looking at you like he has already thought of thirty-five ways that he could kill you, you just don't ask.

Somehow I managed to slip "the Neck's" noose and start up a little private affair of my own -- on the east side. I had to get as far away as possible from the behemoth. It was slow-going at first, until the day she walked into my office.

She was no babe. She looked like she had seen too much in her twenty odd years. She had. Her name was Sally Mallone.

She liked to joke that she was "40 pounds shy of stunning," but there was more to her than that. More than the typical head-turning dame you'd see walking down the streets, high heels clickety clicking on the pavement. Her gravelly voice, the confident way her eyes met yours, the way she drank like a sailor on shore leave; those were some of the reasons why I fell into her trap.

Sally was once a man. That would bother most folks around here, but I knew what was good for me. She was clearly a woman now. It was awkward at first, when I noticed the erratic stubble that would pop up now and then. But hey, everybody has their flaws right?

"You're thinking about when you first met her, aren't you?" said the Fat Man, breaking my reverie. "Yes, we all think of her from time to time. She has that effect.

"But tell me Dick, when did you first find out?"

And the Fat Man smiled as he lit a cigarello.

Bastard. He knew the whole story. He had sent Sally to me. You see, the Fat Man was Sally's father. He knew I would fall for her charms. He knew she could trust me. He loved his kid, didn't even mind that his son was now his daughter. Still, he knew what the rest of the world thought of people like Sally and he knew I was one of the few that would help.

Because I was one of them too. Fitting that I chose the name "Dick". I was born Elizabeth Sunshine Jackson. From day one, my mother knew something wasn't right with me. It was too much for her to handle and she left me on the doorstep of a poor Armenian couple when I was 8 months old.

They did what they could, tried to take care of me as if I was one of their own. The doctor's prognosis about my little "thingie" wasn't what they expected either. A few surgeries and I was as good as male.

I traked her down later, my mother. Didn't say "hi" didn't even speak to her. I just sat in the shadows judging her. She wasn't hard to find, and I enjoyed to search. That's how I got into this gig.

But I digress. I scooped up the package from Joey's dead corpse, making sure to steer clear of the guacomole and with a big "thwump" tossed it onto the Fat Man's desk. The feel of cold steel against my temple vanished. The gun unclocked.

He chomped on his cigarello, considering the object in front of him. Then his eyes looked up and met mine.

"This isn't what I ordered" said the Fat Man.

'Oh shit' I thought to myself. I was in deep now, no turning back.

The door opened. In walked Sally with Sal, a smug smile on her face.

"Daddddddy," she squealed and ran to her father, gingerly stepping over guacamole Joey.

Sal stood in the dark shadows at the back of the room, smoking yet another cigarette.

"he's your daddy?" I fumbled. This was too much. Only last week this girl had me tied to my coffee table with a can of whipped cream on one hand and a zucchini in the other.
__________________
Call that guy butter because he's on a roll!
noxxville is offline   Reply With Quote
Old 02-13-2003, 06:34 PM   #58
nycwriters
Stuck in T.O.
 
Join Date: Oct 2002
Location: Floundering
Posts: 4,134
The streetlight cast shadows upon those walking solitary down this lonely strip of road. Walking down the street in the heavy mist brought back distant memories.
There was Joey Pellagrino, leaning against the corner of 5th and broadway, catching awkward glances from teenage girls who were out past there curfew.
He fished out a Russian cigarette, from a pack that once belonged to a dead guy, and lit it.
The sky was a tense purple, close to the same color the dead guy had been just after the pillow was finished taking him out.

That's the way business had always been done in this town, cold and discreet - my meeting tonight would be no different.

"So, do you have it?" asked a man who came out of the shadows, his breath puffing out like smoke in the cold night air.

A rookie, "Got a light?", I enquired as I cooley reached for my menthols in my inside jacket pocket. He cupped his hands to shield the match from the biting breeze and the flame danced across his face.

He shuffled his feet, unsure of what to say next; my steely calm left his previous resolve shaken.
I pulled long and deep on my favourite brand and exhaled, "Thanks buddy, I've got what you want, but first i need to know..."

"yeah I know what you need to know," he said, visibly shaken, "... HE sent me. Now let's get on with it."
He looked like he was packing, but didn't know what to do with it.

I smirked. "Look pal, you can do this the easy way, or we can do it it the hard way, don't fuss this gig up."

"Don't fuss this gig up?" he queried, "so its true that your side has a strict no-swearing policy? Is the monkey rumour true too? Geez, wait til HIS boys here about this!"

I took one long look at him; obviously this kid was not only a novice but on some kind of them psychadelic drugs the long haired hippies sold down at the park.

"Alright old timer here's the folder you requested," he was starting to sweat, i could see where he'd damped the paper with his palms.

I was about to take it when I heard something behind me.
I ducked down instinctively, as I heard the last heavy footstep that gave leverage for the punch that sailed an inch above my head.

The novice went down like a sack of potatoes; I turned to see who landed that blow. My curiousity was greeted with a gun barrel, pressed hard to my cheek.

Ducked down I could see his black loafers, but recognised the dry wit in his voice just as well, he said, "Good evening John, nice night for a stroll."

It was Sal, one of my boys from back in the old neighborhood -- it'd been a good decade since I had seen him last -- and he hadn't changed a burly bit.

His once clean shaven face was thick with hair.... he looked mysterious almost like...no it couldn't be, he removed the gun from my cheek and we stared at eachother.

"You asshole," I spat, rubbing my cheek were the cold steel had been. "You almost nailed me -- if I hadn't ducked...."

CRACK! I flinched then turned to see who got in the way of Sal's 9mm bullet. The shmuck was halfway down the alley hurtling through some empty garbage cans.

"Jesus Sal, who are these guys and why are you here? That's twice I owe you now!"

"Joey said you might need a hand," motioning to Pellagrino still standing on the corner scoping out the girls walking by -- I'd forgotten he was there. "But let's get out of here, we have to talk."

The cab stopped in front of the old run down Bernhardt hotel. I tipped the greaseball a buck or two, and Joey led the way to the lobby with his umbrella.

Sal had stayed in the cab when we got there, which, for some reason, had left me with a feeling of malaise. I made my way through the dizzingly massive revolving doors, and the door man pointed over to the elevator, as if he was expecting my visit.

It was almost as if he knew me but no I was in for a shock and i knew it but what i didn't know was what except we... stopped in front of pair of large black doors with golden handles.

The door opened. Sitting behind an ornate desk was THE fattest man I've ever seen in my life. He was wearing a tutu. And it was pink.

"So," the tutu-wearing fat man behind the desk said. "We finally meet."

"So you're HIM," I said staring in disbelief of the man's enormous stature "the big man, the head cheese, the Hungry-Hungry Hippo."

Big man was speechless. How could I ever be so insolent? He coughed and reached into the left drawer of his desk. He pulled out a tiny monkey. He put it in his pocket.

I was speechless. For one, how could a monkey that small even exist? For another; I had forgotten to bring the package that the rookie dropped as he fell.

"Looks like you're packing a little snack. Are we going somewhere?" I asked. Anything to divert attention while i tried to figure out how to get the package without him noticing.

Just then Joey Pellagrino burst into the room; eyes crazed, blood dripping from a gaping wound in his shoulder. There was an amazing amount of guacamole on his chin too.

"You... forgot... this..." he managed to stammer, as the package fell to the floor. Joey followed, a technicolor Rorschach.

Joey was always stealing the spotlight that way -- it always had to be about him. I coughed, and bent down to pick up the, now-soiled, package. The click of the hammer locking back, the cold barrel against my head, haven't we been here before?

Before we get back to me, the gun, the package and the fat man, I suppose I should introduce myself. My name is Dick. Dick Friendly (or that's what the girls call me anyhow), and there's a million naked stories in the city. I'm in most of them.

I got my start in a shady little office on the west side. The man in charge went by the name "Jimmy the Neck." Maybe it was on the count of his 21 inch neck. Could also have been because of the 9 inch scar on said neck, who knows. When a guy like that is looking at you like he has already thought of thirty-five ways that he could kill you, you just don't ask.

Somehow I managed to slip "the Neck's" noose and start up a little private affair of my own -- on the east side. I had to get as far away as possible from the behemoth. It was slow-going at first, until the day she walked into my office.

She was no babe. She looked like she had seen too much in her twenty odd years. She had. Her name was Sally Mallone.

She liked to joke that she was "40 pounds shy of stunning," but there was more to her than that. More than the typical head-turning dame you'd see walking down the streets, high heels clickety clicking on the pavement. Her gravelly voice, the confident way her eyes met yours, the way she drank like a sailor on shore leave; those were some of the reasons why I fell into her trap.

Sally was once a man. That would bother most folks around here, but I knew what was good for me. She was clearly a woman now. It was awkward at first, when I noticed the erratic stubble that would pop up now and then. But hey, everybody has their flaws right?

"You're thinking about when you first met her, aren't you?" said the Fat Man, breaking my reverie. "Yes, we all think of her from time to time. She has that effect.

"But tell me Dick, when did you first find out?"

And the Fat Man smiled as he lit a cigarello.

Bastard. He knew the whole story. He had sent Sally to me. You see, the Fat Man was Sally's father. He knew I would fall for her charms. He knew she could trust me. He loved his kid, didn't even mind that his son was now his daughter. Still, he knew what the rest of the world thought of people like Sally and he knew I was one of the few that would help.

Because I was one of them too. Fitting that I chose the name "Dick". I was born Elizabeth Sunshine Jackson. From day one, my mother knew something wasn't right with me. It was too much for her to handle and she left me on the doorstep of a poor Armenian couple when I was 8 months old.

They did what they could, tried to take care of me as if I was one of their own. The doctor's prognosis about my little "thingie" wasn't what they expected either. A few surgeries and I was as good as male.

I traked her down later, my mother. Didn't say "hi" didn't even speak to her. I just sat in the shadows judging her. She wasn't hard to find, and I enjoyed to search. That's how I got into this gig.

But I digress. I scooped up the package from Joey's dead corpse, making sure to steer clear of the guacomole and with a big "thwump" tossed it onto the Fat Man's desk. The feel of cold steel against my temple vanished. The gun unclocked.

He chomped on his cigarello, considering the object in front of him. Then his eyes looked up and met mine.

"This isn't what I ordered" said the Fat Man.

'Oh shit' I thought to myself. I was in deep now, no turning back.

The door opened. In walked Sally with Sal, a smug smile on her face.

"Daddddddy," she squealed and ran to her father, gingerly stepping over guacamole Joey.

Sal stood in the dark shadows at the back of the room, smoking yet another cigarette.

"he's your daddy?" I fumbled. This was too much. Only last week this girl had me tied to my coffee table with a can of whipped cream on one hand and a zucchini in the other.

I needed to learn to keep my internal thoughts internal, and not say everything out loud.

Everyone in the room was staring at me. Sally was turning a combination of embarassed red and angry red. I sheepishly grinned.

I needed to stop drinking too. I had forgotten that the fat man had introduced me to Sally about 14 paragraphs earlier.
nycwriters is offline   Reply With Quote
Old 02-13-2003, 09:07 PM   #59
noxxville
Disco Maven
 
noxxville's Avatar
 
Join Date: Dec 2002
Location: NC...seriously....how did that happen?
Posts: 2,024
The streetlight cast shadows upon those walking solitary down this lonely strip of road. Walking down the street in the heavy mist brought back distant memories.
There was Joey Pellagrino, leaning against the corner of 5th and broadway, catching awkward glances from teenage girls who were out past there curfew.
He fished out a Russian cigarette, from a pack that once belonged to a dead guy, and lit it.
The sky was a tense purple, close to the same color the dead guy had been just after the pillow was finished taking him out.

That's the way business had always been done in this town, cold and discreet - my meeting tonight would be no different.

"So, do you have it?" asked a man who came out of the shadows, his breath puffing out like smoke in the cold night air.

A rookie, "Got a light?", I enquired as I cooley reached for my menthols in my inside jacket pocket. He cupped his hands to shield the match from the biting breeze and the flame danced across his face.

He shuffled his feet, unsure of what to say next; my steely calm left his previous resolve shaken.
I pulled long and deep on my favourite brand and exhaled, "Thanks buddy, I've got what you want, but first i need to know..."

"yeah I know what you need to know," he said, visibly shaken, "... HE sent me. Now let's get on with it."
He looked like he was packing, but didn't know what to do with it.

I smirked. "Look pal, you can do this the easy way, or we can do it it the hard way, don't fuss this gig up."

"Don't fuss this gig up?" he queried, "so its true that your side has a strict no-swearing policy? Is the monkey rumour true too? Geez, wait til HIS boys here about this!"

I took one long look at him; obviously this kid was not only a novice but on some kind of them psychadelic drugs the long haired hippies sold down at the park.

"Alright old timer here's the folder you requested," he was starting to sweat, i could see where he'd damped the paper with his palms.

I was about to take it when I heard something behind me.
I ducked down instinctively, as I heard the last heavy footstep that gave leverage for the punch that sailed an inch above my head.

The novice went down like a sack of potatoes; I turned to see who landed that blow. My curiousity was greeted with a gun barrel, pressed hard to my cheek.

Ducked down I could see his black loafers, but recognised the dry wit in his voice just as well, he said, "Good evening John, nice night for a stroll."

It was Sal, one of my boys from back in the old neighborhood -- it'd been a good decade since I had seen him last -- and he hadn't changed a burly bit.

His once clean shaven face was thick with hair.... he looked mysterious almost like...no it couldn't be, he removed the gun from my cheek and we stared at eachother.

"You asshole," I spat, rubbing my cheek were the cold steel had been. "You almost nailed me -- if I hadn't ducked...."

CRACK! I flinched then turned to see who got in the way of Sal's 9mm bullet. The shmuck was halfway down the alley hurtling through some empty garbage cans.

"Jesus Sal, who are these guys and why are you here? That's twice I owe you now!"

"Joey said you might need a hand," motioning to Pellagrino still standing on the corner scoping out the girls walking by -- I'd forgotten he was there. "But let's get out of here, we have to talk."

The cab stopped in front of the old run down Bernhardt hotel. I tipped the greaseball a buck or two, and Joey led the way to the lobby with his umbrella.

Sal had stayed in the cab when we got there, which, for some reason, had left me with a feeling of malaise. I made my way through the dizzingly massive revolving doors, and the door man pointed over to the elevator, as if he was expecting my visit.

It was almost as if he knew me but no I was in for a shock and i knew it but what i didn't know was what except we... stopped in front of pair of large black doors with golden handles.

The door opened. Sitting behind an ornate desk was THE fattest man I've ever seen in my life. He was wearing a tutu. And it was pink.

"So," the tutu-wearing fat man behind the desk said. "We finally meet."

"So you're HIM," I said staring in disbelief of the man's enormous stature "the big man, the head cheese, the Hungry-Hungry Hippo."

Big man was speechless. How could I ever be so insolent? He coughed and reached into the left drawer of his desk. He pulled out a tiny monkey. He put it in his pocket.

I was speechless. For one, how could a monkey that small even exist? For another; I had forgotten to bring the package that the rookie dropped as he fell.

"Looks like you're packing a little snack. Are we going somewhere?" I asked. Anything to divert attention while i tried to figure out how to get the package without him noticing.

Just then Joey Pellagrino burst into the room; eyes crazed, blood dripping from a gaping wound in his shoulder. There was an amazing amount of guacamole on his chin too.

"You... forgot... this..." he managed to stammer, as the package fell to the floor. Joey followed, a technicolor Rorschach.

Joey was always stealing the spotlight that way -- it always had to be about him. I coughed, and bent down to pick up the, now-soiled, package. The click of the hammer locking back, the cold barrel against my head, haven't we been here before?

Before we get back to me, the gun, the package and the fat man, I suppose I should introduce myself. My name is Dick. Dick Friendly (or that's what the girls call me anyhow), and there's a million naked stories in the city. I'm in most of them.

I got my start in a shady little office on the west side. The man in charge went by the name "Jimmy the Neck." Maybe it was on the count of his 21 inch neck. Could also have been because of the 9 inch scar on said neck, who knows. When a guy like that is looking at you like he has already thought of thirty-five ways that he could kill you, you just don't ask.

Somehow I managed to slip "the Neck's" noose and start up a little private affair of my own -- on the east side. I had to get as far away as possible from the behemoth. It was slow-going at first, until the day she walked into my office.

She was no babe. She looked like she had seen too much in her twenty odd years. She had. Her name was Sally Mallone.

She liked to joke that she was "40 pounds shy of stunning," but there was more to her than that. More than the typical head-turning dame you'd see walking down the streets, high heels clickety clicking on the pavement. Her gravelly voice, the confident way her eyes met yours, the way she drank like a sailor on shore leave; those were some of the reasons why I fell into her trap.

Sally was once a man. That would bother most folks around here, but I knew what was good for me. She was clearly a woman now. It was awkward at first, when I noticed the erratic stubble that would pop up now and then. But hey, everybody has their flaws right?

"You're thinking about when you first met her, aren't you?" said the Fat Man, breaking my reverie. "Yes, we all think of her from time to time. She has that effect.

"But tell me Dick, when did you first find out?"

And the Fat Man smiled as he lit a cigarello.

Bastard. He knew the whole story. He had sent Sally to me. You see, the Fat Man was Sally's father. He knew I would fall for her charms. He knew she could trust me. He loved his kid, didn't even mind that his son was now his daughter. Still, he knew what the rest of the world thought of people like Sally and he knew I was one of the few that would help.

Because I was one of them too. Fitting that I chose the name "Dick". I was born Elizabeth Sunshine Jackson. From day one, my mother knew something wasn't right with me. It was too much for her to handle and she left me on the doorstep of a poor Armenian couple when I was 8 months old.

They did what they could, tried to take care of me as if I was one of their own. The doctor's prognosis about my little "thingie" wasn't what they expected either. A few surgeries and I was as good as male.

I traked her down later, my mother. Didn't say "hi" didn't even speak to her. I just sat in the shadows judging her. She wasn't hard to find, and I enjoyed to search. That's how I got into this gig.

But I digress. I scooped up the package from Joey's dead corpse, making sure to steer clear of the guacomole and with a big "thwump" tossed it onto the Fat Man's desk. The feel of cold steel against my temple vanished. The gun unclocked.

He chomped on his cigarello, considering the object in front of him. Then his eyes looked up and met mine.

"This isn't what I ordered" said the Fat Man.

'Oh shit' I thought to myself. I was in deep now, no turning back.

The door opened. In walked Sally with Sal, a smug smile on her face.

"Daddddddy," she squealed and ran to her father, gingerly stepping over guacamole Joey.

Sal stood in the dark shadows at the back of the room, smoking yet another cigarette.

"he's your daddy?" I fumbled. This was too much. Only last week this girl had me tied to my coffee table with a can of whipped cream on one hand and a zucchini in the other.

I needed to learn to keep my internal thoughts internal, and not say everything out loud.

Everyone in the room was staring at me. Sally was turning a combination of embarassed red and angry red. I sheepishly grinned.

I needed to stop drinking too. I had forgotten that the fat man had introduced me to Sally about 14 paragraphs earlier. Time has blurred again.

The fat man gave me a look that still makes me shudder. Like I was a cow on a meathook. Things were not going my way.
__________________
Call that guy butter because he's on a roll!
noxxville is offline   Reply With Quote
Old 02-14-2003, 03:15 PM   #60
nycwriters
Stuck in T.O.
 
Join Date: Oct 2002
Location: Floundering
Posts: 4,134
The door opened. In walked Sally with Sal, a smug smile on her face.

"Daddddddy," she squealed and ran to her father, gingerly stepping over guacamole Joey.

Sal stood in the dark shadows at the back of the room, smoking yet another cigarette.

"he's your daddy?" I fumbled. This was too much. Only last week this girl had me tied to my coffee table with a can of whipped cream on one hand and a zucchini in the other.

I needed to learn to keep my internal thoughts internal, and not say everything out loud.

Everyone in the room was staring at me. Sally was turning a combination of embarassed red and angry red. I sheepishly grinned.

I needed to stop drinking too. I had forgotten that the fat man had introduced me to Sally about 14 paragraphs earlier. Time has blurred again.

The fat man gave me a look that still makes me shudder. Like I was a cow on a meathook. Things were not going my way.

Things were definately going Sally's way though. The smart cookie scooped up the "wrong" package and magically materialized another one, *plop*, onto the Fat Man's lap.

"There's my guy, er, girl," he said, offering her a kiss on the cheek.

He began to unwrap the package.
nycwriters is offline   Reply With Quote
Reply


Thread Tools
Display Modes Rate This Thread
Rate This Thread:

Posting Rules
You may not post new threads
You may not post replies
You may not post attachments
You may not edit your posts

vB code is On
Smilies are On
[IMG] code is Off
HTML code is Off
Forum Jump


All times are GMT -3. The time now is 09:24 PM.


Powered by vBulletin® Version 3.6.5
Copyright ©2000 - 2021, Jelsoft Enterprises Ltd.