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| When It Comes Down To Brass Tacks | |
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The Phone Rang.
It was Larry, the gangster with the heart of a fine German automobile. Out of respect, I set down my foot-long in order to devote my entire mouth to the conversation -- I was gonna need it. "Hows fings?" he asked "Oh, you know, my aunt still can't tell her fishnet from canasta. You?" "Not bad. Diamond Lou said you wanted to talk" "Right, let's get down to brass tacks, then: I go to the gym tuesday mornings. This guy is always there and he hogs the good machines. I tried to dodge him by changing times, but he always seems to anticipate it. It's causing me problems." "And?" "I'd like you to take care of the problem." "'ow much?" "Fifty boxes of ziti. And a hairpiece for Len." "'ow do you want it done?" "I want them to find him wrapped around that fucking elliptical machine. You hear?" "crystal. cya" There was a click as he put down the receiver. |
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| Posted by Reverend Tedward Q. Porktanker @ 2010-12-29 21:42:00 | |
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