20 NaNoWriMo Novel In A Month episode for 11/18/12

Bingo Boy - post 20

Look, a nice, cozy International House of Pancakes. It's late. It's cold, but they're still open. Ricky, Little Chrissie and Marty share a booth. They sit talking over the remnants of 'breakfast for dinner' feast..... Marty goes - So how'd you do it?... Ricky goes - Better you don't know.... Marty nods. He get it, but he still wants to know and says - Where'd you plant him?....... Little Chrissie says - Better you don't know. You wanna know the truth? Even we don't know...... Ricky says - We were so deep into them God damned woods, I don't know how we even got back here. I don't know. I don't..... Marty goes - Hope you didn't leave any clues...... Ricky goes - I'm telling you. If they looked for years, they'd never find him.... Marty seems pleased.... Little Chrissie adds - Boy, that's for sure.......

And the next day, back in the rowhouse dungeon, Marge drags a big boom box down to the cellar and regales Jimmy-the-prisoner with a private demo of her best, raunchy bump and grind. He just looks, arms still pinned to the wall... Now she's down to a little fringed and sequined bikini...... She says - This was my big move (and she shudders like a baby after a piss) from when I used to headline the Trocadero. you know, 'The Troc'?...... Jimmy doesn't respond..... She says - No? Well. I guess you were still in The People's Republic back then. So that's OK.... Then she hits a beat and goes to pull off her top, but suffers a wardrobe malfunction and cuts a finger on an old sequin....... She goes - Shit. Shit. Shit.... and grabs a Kleexex to staunch the blood...... Jimmy says - Yo, sexy bitch, you, you know I can't even feel my arms no more....... But Marge resumes dancing again and says - Wait a minute...... Jimmy goes -  you crucifyin' me. Come on!.... And he rattles the chains..... Marge goes - I just said. Gimme a minute..... Guess relivin' past glories is like a drug...... But five heatbeats later Jimmy starts roaring in frustration.... She's offended by this, reaches for a nearby riding crop and cracks it loudly against the bars. Then she snaps - I told you! Wait!......And he does......

Later that night, Ricky and Little Chrissie push a cart through Target laden with more Jimmy-stuff... Ricky goes - An electric shaver I can see, but what's he gonna do with a Sunbeam Facial Sauna? Christ, I didn't know they still made 'em anymore.... Little Chrissie goes - That's not for him. It's for Gran...... Ricky gives her a questioning look....... She adds - Aw, leave her alone. What you care?....... He shrugs. They wander off.....

But ninety minutes hence, they're back home and the cellar cage has been redecorated, better than Mayberry's jail cells even. There's a nice throw rug on the floor, a matching comforter on the cot, a lamp, some accent cushions, a picture or two on the wall, even a small, plugged in tropical fish aquarium complete with plants, a 'bubblator,' some fish and a waving mermaid. Jimmy sits on cot, wearing a patterned sheet like a toga and he also has a brand new (tag and all) Phillies baseball cap on his head........ Marge (pointing a gun at him) asks - So, do you like it?......... Jimmy ignores her and turns toward Ricky - How long I gonna stay here?....... Ricky says - I can't tell ya.......... Jimmy goes - Why?........ Marge says - Because we don't know, you dumb shit! Look, you want me to go bring you some peanut butter (to the other two) He likes peanut butter. He likes TastyKakes too. (to Jimmy) Ya want a TastyKake? I'll get you a TastyKake?........ Jimmy goes -  OK, two TastyKake and one hand-job...... Marge blushes and goes - Now, now, come on. Don't get fresh. Don't start with me. And who's gonna hold the gun if I do that? You were chained up before. Remember that?..... He chuckles evilly. Marge shoves the gun to Little Chrissie and runs upstairs.....Jimmy turns to Ricky and goes - You get the Vasiline Intensive Care Cream?......... Ricky doesn't know what to say...... Little Chrissie goes - How 'bout if I shoot him? Right now. Right now!..... But the baby starts to cry, so she gives the gun to Ricky and trots upstairs..... Jimmy turns to Ricky and says - Now, gimme the lotion........ Ricky sighs and hands it over

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19TH NaNoWriMo Novel In a Month episode for 11/17/12

Bingo Boy - post 19

So Marge unlocks the door and enters. Jimmy looks up. He studies her closely. Sure she's a little beat up, but life'll do that to you. She tries. And that's what's important. You know what she's like? Like maybe Melinda Dillon from Close Encounters, or Goldie Hawn, but only if they survived Auschwitz and escaped with a lot a Kmart hootchie outfits.

And she locks eyes on Jimmy too. Some old guys still got it, especially if they made it through the Soviet prison system. Never had a client like him before. This one might be a challenge..... She puts the tray down on the floor and sits straddling his legs. OK, maybe her descent wasn't as graceful as it could have been, but you got a give her credit. Black bike shorts? Come on.

Jimmy looks at her, suddenly aware of his nearly naked state, but still defiant. Marge say - Now what'll it be?...... He answers in a low, parched growl - The Borscht. Gimme the borsht.... Marge goes - But remember, I don't know if it's supposed to be served hot or cold....... Jimmy says - Is OK. Is OK........ So she begins to carefully spoon it into his mouth. Just like feeding a baby. He's thirsty and hungry and desperate for the food...... Marge says - Is it good?....... He licks some off his lips and slowly nods..... She smiles, just a little. Then feeds him some more. A few drops drip down onto his chest and run down his belly. She blots them up with a bit of the blanket that covers him. He studies her face, as she does. But the big, tattered, yellow bow 'round his neck bothers him and he tries to move it out of the way with his chin..... She notices and helps him, but it takes time, since the knot is small and tight.... Her fingers brush his neck... He tries to move his hips... She notices and looks into his eyes. Then she scootches up even closer. He breathes deeply.... She says - You know, for an old fart you look pretty good.... He moves his hips. She giggles.... Then the bow is off... The bowl is empty. She says - You want some more?..... He shakes his head 'no'.......... She manages to get back up on her feet, gathers the stuff and goes - Maybe later I'll bring you some soap and water and toothpaste and all... And a bed pan too. I'll bring you a bed pan. I got one upstairs....... He rattles his chains and goes - Who gonna wash me... you?...... She says - Yeah..... and goes upstairs.

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18TH NaNoWriMo Novel In A Month episode for 11/16/12

Bingo Boy - post 18

I don't always announce my self, but it's me, Mister Never-You-Mind. You know what it means to miss New Orleans? Well, I do. That where I been, but I'm back. So allow me to speechify 'bout what gone on now. 

Ricky and Little Chrissie out for breakfast. As a disembodied spirit, I am not always plugged into the same 'time continuim' as you. But still, I'd say we livin' in the next day after the 'almost' killin'. Look like he gonna do it there for a minute too. I thought so. Had me a bet with old time funny lady, Martha Raye. But I lost. That why she gone be squattin' inside the body of a contestant on The Donald Trump Show and I here tellin' you this.

They eatin' fas' food. In New Orleans we call that stuff projectile vomit. You know, that a creole phrase. But it hot and it greasy an' they doan know no better, so that jus' how it is. Place look like a Starbuck in a concentration camp. Got half way decent paper on a walls, but kids keep pickin' on it and pickin' on it. But what I know? Maybe that the 'weathered' look?

Little Chrissie chewin' on pancake. She say - Clients from the Pennsylvania Railroad, the big banks, the big hospitals... everybody... She was the top dominatrix in town........ Ricky goes - What do you mean 'was'? She's retired now, right?..... Little Chrissie goes - No, she ain't retired. Just not the top one anymore. She still workin'...... Ricky shoot her back a wide-eyed nod. But he do find it hard to believe...... And Little Chrissie say - Good thing we still got the cage. Almost sold it for scrap, you know. Iron worth money. And I know how to handle it. You know what Marty give us? Can't jus' put it in a bank, 'cause they gone say - Where you get all them Benjamins? But if you break it up, four thousand here, two thousand there, you can get 'way wit' it. Ten thousand no. Ten thousand too big. So we gone be hittin' lot a banks. Buy some stock too, 'cause bank don't pay you shit. God, now I wish Romney won. You know that? Cindy Lauper right. Money changes everything.

Speakin' a money, now they back at work. They at the bingo hall. They in the back. They countin' bills, makin' stacks. Kids like rotatin' back here, 'cause they not in all that cigarette stink. Ricky an' Little Chrissie at the table. Big Chrissie stand by desk. She talkin' a Marty. She do sex him up every now an' then, but that doan mean she like him. Don't hate him. Just doan care. 

Marty say - Here. Jimmy leave this for you. He say you take this til he (eyes Ricky) get back....... Big Chrissie look at what he sliddin' on desk. It a envelope. It a big, fat envelope. She go - Oh, how much do it got?....... Marty say - I doan know. He not say....... Big Chrissie go - When he gettin' back?........ Marty go - I doan know. He not say.... Ricky look at Little Chrissie. She look at him..... Big Chrissie go - Humph....... Guess she all mixed up, 'cause Jimmy like a uncle to her. You know he like a play wit' ole Nazi antique shit wit' her granddad. Sometime it look like Hogan's Heroes down that basement. It like Satan's Toy Box. I tell you that.... Marty go - You know how funny Jimmy get. Nobody figure him out. I think he gotta see a couple guys in the old country. An' the less I know 'bout his bidniss in the old country, the better off I am. An' less you know, better off you are too...

So she jus' grab that envelope and stuff it down her pants........ Marty look at Ricky. You know he 'spects there a body somewhere? Ricky look back. But his face doan say nothin'. His face real good at keepin' quiet...... And that how it go. Muscles out front ticklin' up the ole ladies. Jimmy gone. Ukrainian kids not here no more. Life is good.

Now we back in the cellar. Little Chrissie grandma cellar. Ain't got no window. Could be day. Could be night. How he gonna know? Jimmy not know. Place only got one bulb. Everythin' yellow and dark and dim..... Jimmy start a wake up. He gettin' squirmy. Got one eye open. Start moanin'. Mus' pain him havin' boaf his arm chained up like that...... Marge (she the grandma) look in through them bars. She got on tight, black knee pants, like she doin' yogurt or somethin'. She got a sweat shirt what say - WORLD'S BEST GRANDMA, but I doan know if it true or not.....

Jimmy got boaf a his eyes open now. He look at her. She point to tray what on like a ole card table an' she say - I got borscht. Don't know if it 'sposed a be hot or cold. I got a big hunk a 'babkah' cake. I got some kind greasy salami. Doan know if it pork or squid or goat or what. Could be cock roach. How the hell am I 'sposed a know? An' I got some ice cold sour cream too. What you want? Take your pick.... Jimmy try to move his chained up arms. He go - Where am I?......... She go - I can't tell you.... He go - What this place is?..... She go - I can't tell you..... He go - What the hell are you?..... She go - I not gonna tell you.....

Jimmy start a scream and holler. He go - HELP! HELP! HELP!.... Marge doan say nothin, jus' reach in a pocket an' pull out pepper spray. She go over an' give him a little shot. He couch. He spit. He squint up boaf eyes real tight. He sputter...... She go - You like that?.... But he still wanna holler. So Marge hold up the pepper spray. She go - What I gotta do? Give you some more?..... That make him change his mind. He shut up and stay shut up til he catch his breath and start breathin' right....... Marge go - Hey, ole man, you hungry?....... Jimmy jus' nod....... Marge say - OK, I gone unlock them bars and come on in there. But I gone leave key out here on the table. So if you try an' get me wit' your legs or somethin'... like if you choke me wit' them thighs, you jus' be layin' there wit' a decomposin' ole lady on top a you.... You want that?....... Jimmy doan say nothin'. He jus' look. 

So she unlock the door, take the tray and go in. It gone be like a lunch date.... almost...

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17TH NaNoWriMo Novel In A Month episode for 11/15/12

Bingo Boy - post 17

Jimmy seems dazed. He's tired. He's had it. His head pounds. It's over.... He whimpers - Head. Head. Head. Head.......... And Ricky, eager to oblige, raises the gun..... Jimmy goes - No. No. The heart. The heart. the heart..... So Ricky lowers the gun.... Jimmy reconsiders and goes - No. No. The head. The head. The head. The head..... Gun goes up. Little Chrissie can't take it. She starts suckin' her teeth and shakin' her hands. Almost drops the flashlight. But she manages to keep hold a that. And Jimmy goes - Heart. Heart. Heart. Heart. Heart............ Ricky exhales and goes - Forget it. I think I'll just surprise you..... He crouches down by his victim. Jimmy starts to kick his feet in all directions. Then he stops to catch his breath. It can't be easy for him to breathe, you know. Ricky moves, fast and straddles his legs. But the pants are still damp and clammy with piss and he goes - Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit....... Jimmy just stares at him, fighting to draw breath. Shhh, listen. Hear that wheeze? Look how the tape goes in and out with each labored attempt. 

Then Ricky looks right in his eyes, leans forward and whispers in his ear - But there's gonna come a second, just before the dark, when you're gonna feel the pain. Don't believe what they tell you. You're gonna feel it. And I just wanna make sure you know......... Jimmy shuts his eyes tight and cries. Little Chrissie backs away. Jimmy starts to shake and tremble like he's freezin'. It's pitiful. Ricky relaxes and lowers the gun...... Jimmy breathes a sigh of relief...... And Ricky says - You know, this is a really little gun. It wouldn't a made a big hole or nothin'. Just a little 'ping,' like one a them silver balls in a pinball game, or somethin'. Just bounce around, hittin' the bumpers, shreddin' the brain and puttin' out the lights. You wouldn't a felt it. You wouldn't a felt a thing.... I lied. But now we'll never know, 'cause you're such a God damned cry baby.

Jimmy looks puzzled. What's gonna happen?.... Ricky turns to the girl. He goes - Chrissie!..... She goes - What?.... Ricky goes - Gimme the tape........ She finds the big, gray roll on the ground and hands it to him. And Jimmy's eyes follow every move. Ricky tears off a few inches a tape and carefully smooths it over the crudely punctured piece already on Jimmy's mouth. And now he sweats. And now he whimpers. His nostrils flare. He fights for air. But Ricky just sits there, straddling his legs and watchin'. Then he tears off some more tape and seals up Jimmy's nose...... We faintly hear the weak, small, muffled sound of Jimmy's voice, as he goes - No... No... No...   And Ricky says - You think this is what it was like when your uncle used to kill the little children? You think this is how the people felt when you fingered them to the Nazis? When you told the Germans? Six years old. you were six years old. And so were they. You went to school with 'em.

Little Chrissie goes - Shit, I can't take this. Ricky. Ricky. Ricky... Stop it. Let him breathe. Let him breathe. Let him breathe. Shit! He's dying! Oh, God! He's dying! 

                           ++++++++++++++++

And then it all goes black. We hear somebody rip off a piece of tape, followed by deep, strong lungfuls of air.... cold, clear, crisp pine air.

Then we're somewhere else... a dim, windowless cellar, a little while later. There's a jail cell type cage in one of the corners. Jimmy slumps on the floor, with his arms chained to the wall above his head. He's wrapped in a blanket. All his clothes are gone. But he has a big, bright, tattered, yellow 'gift bow' 'round his neck. Ricky and Little Chrissie stand there lookin' at him through the bars. Little Chrissie's grandma is there too. Her name is Marge. The cage is in her basement. Just in case you don't know, she used to be a dominatrix....

Marge goes - Where'd you get the bow?...... Little Chrissie says - We found it. Must a come off a tree. Must a been for a soldier, or something...... Marge says - What'd you do with his shitty pants?...... Little Chrissie says - We threw 'em out. Don't worry about it....... Marge goes - What do we feed him?...... Ricky says - You don't have to do nothin', Marge. I'll buy all the food. I'll buy everything...... Marge goes - And get a space heater. Don't want him to freeze his balls off, do ya? He still got 'em, ain't he?..... Little Chrissie says - Yeah, he still got 'em...... Ricky gives her a look and she goes - Well, I had to hold him while you pulled off his pants.......... Marge giggles and goes - Ewww, can I play with him?...... Little Chrissie goes - Yeah, do whatever the hell you want. He's your birthday present, ain't he?...... Ricky throws in a quick - Happy birthday, Marge...... Marge goes - Oh, thank you. Thank you (appraises 'gift'). You know, he don't look too bad for his age........ Ricky says - I guess. Look, lemme run over to Target before they close and get him some pants......

Marge goes - No rush. Take your time. Take your time.. Then she fingers her dull, dry tresses and says - Lemme go fix my hair...

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16TH NaNoWriMo NOVEL IN A MONTH episode for 11/14/12

Bingo Boy - post 16

You see they got these narrow, little access roads in the Pine Barrens. Built 'em so fire fighting equipment could get in deep where it's needed. But when you drive along on a dark night it's real easy to turn off on one and not know it. Sometimes they veer off on a slight angle and you think you're still goin' straight. That's what happened to Ricky. Thought he was keepin' to county road five sixty something. Only now he's on Hoochie-Koochie Lane to Nowhere. No lights. No nothin'..... And Jimmy startin' a wake up. And I do not know why he does like he does. But now he's singin' Do You Know What It Means To Miss New Orleans. See, he's a little bit conscious. But his brains is still good and rattled. Little Chrissie give him the bottle. He start suckin' on it. She figure since he probably gone be permanently dead in a few minutes, might as well ease into it little bit at a time. Make it easier that way. 

Ricky inch along till he find a wide spot on the shoulder. Then he pull in real tight by them trees. Nobody come back here. Think they got rangers but they sure ain't 'round here. He say - Yo, Jimmy...Jimmy... come on. you gotta take a leak?..... Jimmy snorts and goes - Yeah, gotta take a leak....... Little Chrissie goes - Take him fast. He gone in the car. Get him out. Get him out.........

Ricky manages to yank him out of the car. He grabs him 'round the chest and backs him into the trees. Jimmy's heels scrape against the dirt. And he's peein' all the way. The stain on his pants gets bigger and wetter and darker. Four heartbeats later, Ricky leans him against a tree and steps back, as Jimmy slowly slides down onto the forest floor. Then he goes - Ah...that's better. A good pee. A good pee. A good pee.

Ricky whispers to Little Chrissie. He goes - What do I do now?.... But before she can answer, Jimmy starts bellowin' another Ukrainian folk song...... Ricky kicks at his legs and goes - Stop yodelin'! Stop yodelin', you low-life, son of a bitch!... But it don't do no good. Then he goes - Chrissie! Chrissie! Chrissie! Get me the knife. Get me the tape........ She trots back to the car. Now she's holdin' the flashlight and that goes with her, so they're left in the dark. Pitch black. No light and Jimmy bellowin' away. 

Then she comes back and hands the 'killer supplies' to Ricky. Jimmy sees the big knife. It's like a Bowie knife. It's like a pirate knife. It's silver. It gleams..... Jimmy goes - No! No! No! No! No!.... But Ricky grabs the flashlight from under Little Chrissie's arm and deftly plants a few more whacks on Jimmy's already punished head.

Little Chrissie starts scratchin' her neck. She goes - Look at me. I'm gettin' all bit up. They're eatin' me alive. Ricky says - What are you talkin' about? What's eatin' you? It's so cold, they're all dead........ Oh, I don't know. I don't know. - she says. What the hell are we doin' here? Hurry up. I want it to be done. I want it to be done. What am I doin' here?......

Ricky goes over to Jimmy. At first he wants to sit down and straddle his legs. But the pissed up pants won't let him. So he kneels down in the dirt and goes to work, rippin' off huge ribbons a duct tape and using them to bind Jimmy to the tree. But bein' a beginner, he does more than bind him. He practically mummifies him to the tree. Least the knife was good for something. You try tearin' duct tape with your bare hands...... Then he gets up, staggers back and surveys what he's done. He hefts the knife and looks at it. He looks at Jimmy. He looks at the knife........ Little Chrissie whispers - Ricky! Ricky! What are you gonna do?...... But he don't answer. I guess it's instinctive. I guess he got this side in him all along. And now it comin' out. Now it comin' out real good. Then he tears off a piece a tape, knife-gouges a few little holes in it and slaps it on the victim's flaccid mouth.... But that wakes him up. Jimmy's eyes open wide. He starts kickin'. He starts sqirmin'. He starts screamin'. The tape does a pretty good job stiflin' it, but the noise makes Ricky nervous. And he stomps off into the trees..... Little Chrissie goes - Ricky, Ricky, where you goin'?...... And he mumbles - To get the gun.

Uh, oh, Jimmy heard that. Geez, look at him. He's goin' manic. He's smashin' his head back against the tree trunk. He's tryin' a get loose, but he can't. Christ, the back a his head is all bloody. Looks like he's gonna choke...... Little Chrissie just stands there, shufflin' from foot to foot. I think she's hyperventilating too.

Then we hear the car door open. We hear it close. We hear his footsteps and he's back. Jimmy fights to breathe. We see the tape move in and out over the little bit of space between his lips. The now vulnerable bastid locks eyes with Little Chrissie. They seem to share a moment. But it's too late. Ricky's back. What can she do?

Then Ricky very calmly levels the gun, points it at Jimmy and goes - Now how 'bout if I make it easy for you? I'm gonna give you a choice. What's it gonna be, the heart, or the head?.....

Jimmy shrieks. He's berserk. He's crazy. Stuff like this don't happen to him. His eyes go all wild and red. We see the tape pulse back and forth, as Ricky quietly says - Make up your mind, or there's gonna be a third choice (and he points the gun toward Jimmy's crotch) but that one's gonna be mine.....

And Little Chrissie just stands there, like Lot's Wife. She don't move a muscle, as the whole proposition gets all of a sudden real...

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15TH NaNoWriMo Novel In A Month episode for 11/14/12

Bingo Boy - post 15

Ricky and Little Chrissie just stand there, drinking in the clean lined, contemporary opulence of the lobby, a new age exercise in smooth, cool glamour, decked out in every high end finish known to man, or at least that portion devoted to decor and design. The scale is ever so slightly exaggerated, like a Mussolini take on public space grandeur. Ain't no recession in here. Well heeled glossy people glide in and out of a phalanx of shops stocked with all manner of luxury. Little Chrissie says - Just a bracelet. Just sterling. Five 'Benjamins'. Just five. Just now. One time. Come on. Here, I'll take it from my envelope..... But he takes her elbow, as she fishes in her purse and steers her toward the elevators. Ricky flashes a card. Marty gave it to him. The attendant stands aside. They enter the car and go up, accompanied by a quiet instrumental  version of 'A Dream is a Wish your Heart Makes..... Then they exit and silently proceed down a thickly carpeted hallway. There's the door, number three twenty seven, like a portal to a residence in a high end Roman insula, flanked by tasteful columns traversed by a simple pediment.... Ricky knocks. They wait. The door opens. Jimmy stands there in his best Rat Pack for the New Millennium attire. He eyes them up and down and says - Who da hell sent for you?...... Ricky freezes up for a second. Little Chrissie sees. She jumps in and says - Marty had a go to the ER. He had chest pains. It was nothing, but they want him to rest, so we came. We'll take you back. Come on....... Jimmy exhales. He doesn't like it, but what can he do. Then he steps aside, motions toward a fine, leather valise on the floor and says - Pick it up...... Ricky obliges. They close the door, turn around and go back.

And dusk falls as they get in the car and drive off, keeping to back roads snaking through the Pine Barrens and away from casual detection. Jimmy sits sprawled in the back. He surveys his ride with disgust. A ten year old Ford Taurus is not his idea of an appropriate chariot, even though Ricky had it cleaned and detailed for the occasion. You know, the first time only happens once. 

Jimmy kicks the back of the front seat and yells - Fifteen fifty! Put on fifteen fifty. A.M.! A.M!.... He's been guzzling Grey Goose from a bottle like Gator Aide. And they just want to keep him quiet at least til he's dead. After that let the bastard do whatever the hell he wants, so Little Chrissie finds the station, a special program devoted to Russian-Ukrainian music...... Jimmy yells - Turn it up! Turn it up! Come on, you 'Zhid' you! They not gonna charge you!..... Ricky just drives. But Little Chrissie cranks up the volume. And they go on like that for like ten minutes, tearing through the South Jersey woodlands, as Cossack anthems and rousing folk tunes rock the car. Jimmy sings along in a loud, hoarse voice. But Ricky's getting tense. He squeezes the wheel. Five seconds later they almost bottom out in a pot hole. Little Chrissie looks nervous. She doesn't say anything, but you can see. And Jimmy yells an obscene oath in his own tongue..... Ricky goes - Yo, Jimmy! Yo, Jimmy! Jimmy!...... Jimmy goes - What!? You God damn bestid?!..... Ricky goes - You think we can eighty six the lousy Boris and Natasha crap for a while and listen to something normal!?........ Jimmy goes - Like what!? That Jew face, Barbra Streisand, or that Jew face Celine Dion, or that Jew face Michael Buble!?!?....... Little Chrissie stifles a laugh. Ricky does too...... Little Chrissie whispers - He don't know his Jew face from his Goy face..... Jimmy (now hopelessly drunk) hears and goes - You shaddap! You shaddap! I tell who is Jew! I tell who is Jew! You dumb, Jew, fuck! You dumb, dumb, Jew, Jew, fuck, fuck!........ Ricky says - What's that, his college cheer?...... Little Chrissie laughs and goes - Rah! Rah! Rah!.....

And they continue like that, ferrying the drunken bigot to his grave, as the Cossack music fills the car with complex, baritone harmonies..... But after a bit Ricky reaches over and clicks off the Slavic Cavalcade. Jimmy wakes up and starts yelling - Jew! Yid!.. Jew! Yid! Hitler was right! Hitler was right!

Ricky slams on the breaks, swerves onto the shoulder, pulls a big, heavy flashlight out of the glove compartment and twists around, smashing Jimmy over the head as he yells - Hitler was right!? Hitler was right!?... Jimmy gags in pain, before slumping into semi-consciousness.

Little Chrissie goes - Not here. Not here. Not here. You want him to bleed all over the car?...... Ricky stops, looks around and goes - Jeez, where the hell are we?......... And they sit there in the dark by the side of a narrow 'access' road deep within the inky, black, pine forest. 

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14TH NaNoWriMo Novel In A Month episode for 11/13/12

BINGO BOY - post 14

The three conspirators met for lunch. Boy, them cheese steaks were greasy. You know, the kind where oil runs down your hand, under your watch band and down along your arm? Lot a napkins. You need a lot a napkins. But WHY do these places always have such little, light flimsy ones? Some people scarfed the food down standing up. They had this long 'eatin'' shelf with little pots a ketchup for the fries. But our three commandeered one a the tables, just like a party a pregnant bitches or crippled up old farts. Shelf crowd looks like Ken Wahl circa twenty years ago. You know, armor-like leather jacket, 'wife beater', long nickle chains hangin' from belt loops for God knows what. And they reek from stink weeds. It's crazy, but the poorer they are the more they smoke... like they're runnin' short on handicaps, or something. But nobody  looks at our three. Cheese steak eatin' is a brain intensive activity. Folks just chomp and chew and swallow. Then they suck little wads a fat out from between their teeth. Then they eat the french fries (huge cup, boardwalk style). Then they chug the soda. Then they smoke some butts. Life is good.....

Marty goes - I told you, nobody.... nobody is gonna miss him. Jeez, how many times you want me to say it?....... Little Chrissie goes - Yeah, but Marty, I know she's got something gone on with Jimmy. He eats over there sometimes. He's friends with her grandfather. Won't she think? Won't she know? Won't she know something's wrong?...........Ricky wants a know too, but man that sandwich is good. No Cheese Whiz. This joint uses provolone.  Actually, maybe he don't wanna face what's gonna happen. That could be it too..... Marty says - She can't even keep her shoes tied. She can't even keep her pants up. Her? She won't know nothin'.  I know he gives her money. All I gotta do it slip her an envelope with a couple thou in it and say it's from Jimmy. Say he had to go back to the old country for a while. She couldn't even find Jersey on a map. What the hell is she gonna do?...... Little Chrissie sighs and says - OK...... Marty says - So that's it? We're goin'? It's a done deal? We're ready to roll? Please god, don't tell me somethin' else now. Ricky, you all right with this?........... Ricky just nods, but the muscles in his face don't even move....... Marty goes - OK, now look. Don't tell me nothin'. I don't wanna know nothin'. I don't wanna hear nothin.' Don't say anything. Don't say ANYTHING. It's safer that way. It's better. It's better for everybody. I don't care if you flush him down a toilet, or feed him to the sharks. I don't care. I do not care........ He offers his hand. They all shake. Marty slides an envelope to Ricky and one to Little Chrissie too. They hold the stacks close and discreetly count 'em.

It's tomorrow. Rained a little bit. Dry now. Ricky and Little Chrissie speed down the Atlantic City Expressway. Jimmy needs a ride back to town. Been gamblin' at Borgota for three days. You know he jumps around, Sugar House in Philly, Revel by the Inlet (an area in A.C.) Borgata back by the bay. They know him all over. Maybe not too many details. But they know the voice. They know the accent. And they know his face. He don't like to drive. Yeah, he'll do it 'round the city. But not back and forth to the shore. It's only like sixty or seventy miles. That's just how he is. Been playin' craps, a little poker. Makin' friction with two call girls. Eatin' steaks...big ones... thick ones. Even bought himself a new pair a shoes (Gucci's). Look, ain't that what you 's posed to do when you win at craps?

They pull into town. Most a the 'SANDY' mess is gone. Gamblin' towns bounce back fast. Boardwalk all clean. Rollin' chairs rollin'. Hotdogs grillin'.. Sea gulls swoopin'. You know how they grab food when you ain't careful? Ricky parks the car on the street, pumps a handful a quarters in the meter, grabs Little Chrissie's hand and walks off. Who's gonna look at them? Nobody. Just a couple a kids playin' hooky from work (or lack of work) and chasin' some luck. Real slick. Real cool. Real cold. But when they come to the corner and stop for the light, Little Chrissie says - Think we should call my grandma, like to check on the baby?....... Ricky goes - I did, just before, when you were sleeping........ Red turns green, our two neophyte paladins look both ways and trot across...

Then they trudge up that landscaped hill they got outside The Borgata, pass under the 'Welcome To Your Happy Place' sign and disappear inside.

On the Boardwalk, in Atlantic City, you will walk in a dream.

On the Boardwalk in Atlantic city, life will be peaches and cream......( I like that old song)

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