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BINGO BOY - post 34
It seemed Marty was doin' a lot a thinkin' 'bout the money. Days went by. Little Chrissie would drop hints. You see, a girl can do it without being too in-your-face. But if Ricky did it, he'd be threatening. He'd be confrontational. So she'd say things like - Yo, Ricky, you wanna take a ride up to that Italian place we liked so much?...... Ricky'd go - What do you mean? Which one?... And she'd say - The one up where Marty's 'friend' lives......Obviously, he was always close by when they had these discussions. He'd look. Then he'd look away. Then he'd look again. If nobody else was close by he'd say - All right, all right. What are you tryin' to do? Stop it. Stop gettin' funny. I don't like it..... But one night Big Chrissie accidentally on purpose let him find a napkin with his address written on it (in her handwriting) in the little kitchen. Boy did he look sick.
And Jimmy was gettin' sick too. He was gone stir crazy... real stir crazy. Did exercises all day. At first all he could do was old man, hands-against-the-wall push ups, but now he could do regular ones. Leg raises and sit-ups too..... Marge'd say - You doin' that for me?.... But he wouldn't answer. Bein' stir crazy makes 'em get that way, you know.
Now she fed the baby down in the basement too. All three of 'em ate supper together. Sometimes steak sandwiches (not the baby). Sometimes chopped steak and mashed potatoes (smushed together for the baby). And sometimes tuna croquettes with macaroni and cheese (also smushed up for the baby). Wasn't exactly Ukrainian food, but he wasn't so fussy anymore. Just wanted out. He'd tell her too. He'd say - I hafta get outta here. It's killin' me.... Marge'd put her hands over the baby's ears and say - Want me to take 'im upstairs? I'll play ya another game a 'the cossack and the farm girl' again?...... But Jimmy wasn't interested. He'd go - No. I just have to get out of here. I just have to get out...... Marge'd say - I know. But do you think you could wait just a little bit longer?....... Jimmy'd say - Why? You makin' me a party, or somethin'?...... I think a little bit of his brain thought they were gonna kill him one day, because what else could they do with him? Not his whole brain, just part of it. That's how things were done over there. Back with his Kiev hoodlums, I mean. And old habits die hard. But then the baby'd go - Ya, Ya, Ya, Ya, or Da, Da, Da, Da and he'd forget. Marge told him the kids were tryin' to get Marty to give 'em a lump sum pay out. She said - Can't you wait a little while, like til they get it, 'cause then we can all go somewhere together?...... Jimmy'd go - What you mean 'we'?...... But that only seemed to upset her.
And that skinny-school-teacher guy was upset too. He'd been upset. He was real upset. You know, like, like a chicken with it's eyes ready to bust out. See? Look at him sittin' at his desk there (the one at home), typin' out those letters and all. And I mean typin' 'em on an electric typewriter, so you know he meant business. One for the district attorney. One for the Office of License and Inspections. And one for each and every bleach-toothed, blow dried, dedicated, investigative reporter at every station in town. Sent out a lot a emails too. All very neat. All very thorough. All very incriminating.
Skinny school teacher guy gonna get his revenge...
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It seemed Marty was doin' a lot a thinkin' 'bout the money. Days went by. Little Chrissie would drop hints. You see, a girl can do it without being too in-your-face. But if Ricky did it, he'd be threatening. He'd be confrontational. So she'd say things like - Yo, Ricky, you wanna take a ride up to that Italian place we liked so much?...... Ricky'd go - What do you mean? Which one?... And she'd say - The one up where Marty's 'friend' lives......Obviously, he was always close by when they had these discussions. He'd look. Then he'd look away. Then he'd look again. If nobody else was close by he'd say - All right, all right. What are you tryin' to do? Stop it. Stop gettin' funny. I don't like it..... But one night Big Chrissie accidentally on purpose let him find a napkin with his address written on it (in her handwriting) in the little kitchen. Boy did he look sick.
And Jimmy was gettin' sick too. He was gone stir crazy... real stir crazy. Did exercises all day. At first all he could do was old man, hands-against-the-wall push ups, but now he could do regular ones. Leg raises and sit-ups too..... Marge'd say - You doin' that for me?.... But he wouldn't answer. Bein' stir crazy makes 'em get that way, you know.
Now she fed the baby down in the basement too. All three of 'em ate supper together. Sometimes steak sandwiches (not the baby). Sometimes chopped steak and mashed potatoes (smushed together for the baby). And sometimes tuna croquettes with macaroni and cheese (also smushed up for the baby). Wasn't exactly Ukrainian food, but he wasn't so fussy anymore. Just wanted out. He'd tell her too. He'd say - I hafta get outta here. It's killin' me.... Marge'd put her hands over the baby's ears and say - Want me to take 'im upstairs? I'll play ya another game a 'the cossack and the farm girl' again?...... But Jimmy wasn't interested. He'd go - No. I just have to get out of here. I just have to get out...... Marge'd say - I know. But do you think you could wait just a little bit longer?....... Jimmy'd say - Why? You makin' me a party, or somethin'?...... I think a little bit of his brain thought they were gonna kill him one day, because what else could they do with him? Not his whole brain, just part of it. That's how things were done over there. Back with his Kiev hoodlums, I mean. And old habits die hard. But then the baby'd go - Ya, Ya, Ya, Ya, or Da, Da, Da, Da and he'd forget. Marge told him the kids were tryin' to get Marty to give 'em a lump sum pay out. She said - Can't you wait a little while, like til they get it, 'cause then we can all go somewhere together?...... Jimmy'd go - What you mean 'we'?...... But that only seemed to upset her.
And that skinny-school-teacher guy was upset too. He'd been upset. He was real upset. You know, like, like a chicken with it's eyes ready to bust out. See? Look at him sittin' at his desk there (the one at home), typin' out those letters and all. And I mean typin' 'em on an electric typewriter, so you know he meant business. One for the district attorney. One for the Office of License and Inspections. And one for each and every bleach-toothed, blow dried, dedicated, investigative reporter at every station in town. Sent out a lot a emails too. All very neat. All very thorough. All very incriminating.
Skinny school teacher guy gonna get his revenge...
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