Saturday, November 3, 2012

3RD NaNoWriMo 'Novel In A Month' Episode

Bingo Boy, post 3

We back in the bingo hall. Just fed 'em lunch. Big old plates a macaroni and cheese. Eye-talian roll and some who-ever-think-this-shit-butter on it. Give 'em coffee too. So you know there gonna be lot a fartin' in this place. Some of 'em actually go - Oh,scuse me..... An' then they make with a nervous, little, titter, titter laugh. Oh, they got the bestest front step manners. Spray sickening, sweet, off brand crap in the toilet and everything. 

But I know they got problems too. Got grandkids in juvvie hall. Not all of 'em, just some. Got granddaughters what makin' 'em great-grandmothers. Got sickness they don't know nothin' 'bout. Guess it come from too much beer. You know beer like crack cocaine to some. It like bread flavored soda what make you crazy. Only time beer drinkin' go 'way is when die-beetis got 'em. An' it get plenty. 

Muscles all the time disrespectin' 'em. An' he not really no better. Come up behind 'em when they playin'. You know some play twenty four cards. He start givin' back rubs. 'Hump rubs' - he calls it. But not to they faces. Then he slide his hand down low, like he tryin' a loosin' up they backbone. But what he really wanna do is give a little ass tickle. Chair-back hide it all. 'Lady' lean forward. She go - Oh, that feel so good, kid. What you, a doctah, or somethin'? Then, when they all tickled up, he ask who want a donut, 'cause he know when he give it to them, they gonna give him big tip. Few a the regular bingo-boys does same thing. And they get big tips too. Ricky ain't never done ass-ticklin' yet. I don't think he will.

That boy don't live 'round here. He come down for the work. Ricky live little way north, in what used a be a quiet place. Bigger rowhouse what got lawns and yards and basement 'rec' rooms and trees. Not 'fancy' fancy, jus' nicer. Some streets by him even got semi-detatched. Few got all-the-way detatched too. But it not so nice 'round his way no more. Ain't tipped over all the way yet. But it fixin' too. Cop say - You better lock you place up real good, 'cause all what ain't nailed down gonna walk.... That what they tell folk what got robbed. Cop say - Every street got one or two light-fingered fellas....... It always somebody close by. They watch. They look. They know when you ain't home and BAM.... they break a window. They run in, grab television, grab money. You know old folks keeps way to much foldin' money in a house. It like a 'nitiation  'round there..... Folks say - You been robbed yet?.... An' if you say 'no,' they say - how come?

But Ricky need money, so he come down here. Folks is all good an' dead. He got the house, but nothin' else. Little bit a money got sucked up by the doctahs, and the doctahs for the dead folks. You know, the undertakers. He was workin' in a library. Ran a after school thing for kids what want a do homework and look up shit. Only most of 'em come for the free pretzels and Cheetos. Guard throw half a them out after like five minutes. They don't care. They really wanna break bottles in a street anyway. Glass fly. Somebody get cut, they laugh. Laugh til the snot come up. 

Library get rid a that program. That way they keeps all them pretzels and Cheetos for theyself. Not like Ricky got no top-dog uncles. Fac' is, he got no uncles. One aunt still 'round, but she live in Florida wit a accountant what is her husband an' a derma-tologis' daughter. They send him a happy-new-year-for-the-jews card every once in a while, but that 'bout it. Heard about this joint from cleanin' woman at the library. She got a daughter used a work here. She say tips is good. Nobody ask no questions. Nobody pay no taxes. Nobody pay no mind. Oh, they do pay some taxes on like a little salary. But not too much. 

Look, bingo-kids sittin' out in a alley now. They on a break. He wit' Little Chrissie. She smoke. He don't like it, but he not wanna say somethin', 'cause everybody in there smoke. It like born in a them, or somethin'. Big metal door open, to like let in fresh air. But no fresh air go in there. All that happens is putrid smoke roll out. Ricky look. He shake his head. Little Chrissie say - What? It bother you?....... He say - Yeah, it bother me. Don't nobody know it gone kill em?........ She say - What you want people a do? What difference it gone make? When it your time, it your time......... You see, scientific investigations don't carry much weight 'round here. 

But Little Chrissie a thinker. She see stuff. She say - You know what do bother me?...... He say - What?..... She say - Marty, he bother me. You know how much money he take outta this joint? Got like a hundred dumb bitches in there. A hundred dumb bitches. Some day even more dumb bitches. An' he grab like thirty dollah from each one. We open like four days a week. Shit, I know. I got it all figured out. Only take half for him a make his 'nut.' That what they call it...makin' your 'nut.'........ Ricky say - how you know?......... For a Jew-kid, he is very, very, very naive.........Little Chrissie say - Big Chrissie. Big Chrissie tell me......... Ricky say - How she know?...... She look him in a eye like she can't believe it, throw 'way her cigarette and say - 'Cause like while he makin' his nuts... she playin' wit' 'em.


No comments: