“You Got Jokes”

“So, two hookers walk into a bar, and…”

“The fuck? Look, man, whatever you do, don’t get up there and start out talking about your flight, and the fucking baby screaming in the seat two rows up from you — and they definitely don’t want to hear some sixth grade anecdote about two hookers and a goat; or a preacher — or whatever the hell you were envisioning. If you’re not funny, get the fuck outta here now, kid.”

“Who said anything about me telling jokes?” A group of muscle overcast the room like a shadow awake and lurking; sliding by the still, larger human being he’d been hired by. ‘For insurance purposes, ya know?’, he told his naive and hungry brother in-law, a Mariano Rivera type, game-saving cutter away from the box.

Neither man had much of a plan as they stood there, holding up the portly, short Italian and Jewish proprietor of an old school mob spot that in recent years made the switch to younger management and employees — the Bada-Zing — as stupid as that is. A fairly stupid play on old ‘Itonics’; or the Italian version of “ebonics”. Fuck you racists for coining that…word. I digress…

The problem with Zeke’s latest plan to use his mentally and physically superior, however, self loathing in-law — had to do with the fact that Tommie was blind. Not the blind where you wear glasses or else your eyes freak people out. The kind where your eyes float…