60TH BINGO BOY episode 1/14/13

Bingo Boy - post 60

Now we of the spirit world can gather 'round and protect deserving mortals. Little children know that. We're their 'imaginary friends.' And yes, I'm embarrassed to say so, but some of us have been known to whisper correct test answers into the sweet, little ears of painfully struggling children. 

Adults (older children too) know us as 'conscience.' We try to keep them pure. I know two or three souls in the 'ghostly' form ministering to Muscles right now. He craves money... Not so much for the greenbacks, but for the enhanced position they provide. I don't think he'll kidnap the Baby, though. Miss Leslie, a former teacher of the handicapped, much admired among spirits for her saintly voice and quiet ways is with him how, coaxing him toward the good side. And he lays there, aware of Marty's snoring beyond the bedroom wall, but he listens to something else. He listens to Miss Leslie. She can access his every memory... His favorite, childhood playthings (a stuffed sheepdog called Pudgy..... a scaled down, though very real looking rifle, called Pow-Pow.... and an old World War II army helmet he once peed in). 

Muscles likes remembering those things. He likes recalling long ago Thanksgiving dinners attended by loving relatives since called to their Eternal Reward. Miss Leslie wants his Aunt Jeannie to give him her banana cake recipe. He always loved that. Ate two or three big pieces every year. And his Grampy Lou is waiting to tell him that Pow-Pow rests, still in it's original box, on the laundry-room shelf at Cousin Barbra's place.

Memories like that humanize us. They forge the tie that binds. And Muscles is lucky to have them. Imagine what life is like for those who don't?.... He's drifting off now. The small TV on his night table is still on. Jacques Pepin pulverizes thin sheets of veal with a little silvery hammer... exactly the fate their bovine mothers wished for. But the volume is turned down low. And the timer will soon click off.

So at this time we must leave the slumbering former bingo-gigolo. He snores too, you know... The Baby is safe for now.... And the only complications plaguing our happy seashore family comes from inquisitive neighbors. People want to know how they got all that money. They want to know what Ricky does. They want to know what Jimmy does. And they really don't give up. Marge avoids them. Jimmy makes jokes... He says - I sell guns to the Indians... I give hula-hula lessons. You wanna take some?..... But Ricky feels bad. He doesn't know what to say. Little Chrissie called this place. They're gonna take real estate lessons. Study for the test, I mean.  That's a good job around here, most years, anyway. At least it'll give 'em a legitimate answer. Look, one guy across the street made his money falling off an escalator at Macy's... twice. Another one bills scared parents with sick kids four hundred and fifty five dollars for every ten minutes of his time.... even if they don't get better...... That's how people are...... 

Let me tell you, we of the spirit realm have a lot of work to do.....

And you all better start listing...

Shhh... somebody's trying to reach you...

______________________________________________

59TH BINGO BOY episode 1/13/13

Bingo Boy - post 59

Someone is whispering in Muscles' ears...First the right one and then the left. Spirits can do that. They come close at night, just prior to drifting off... just prior to the long, nighttime nap. The voice says - Get the money. Take what's yours. Sometimes it says other things. Sometimes it just breathes. 

Muscles lays there. He wants to move. He wants a Lexus and maybe a fancier girlfriend. He wants to eat dinner in restaurants with all the big guys in Center City. And he knows about Margate. He knows they're all there. His friends on the force saw to that. They traced the license plate number of the limo and now he knows everything. 

Marty snores like a jack hammer. Plaster board don't block that. He tries to ignore it, turns on the little radio and puts the ear-buds in. That helps, but only a little bit.

You know he drove down there yesterday...to the shore, I mean. Parked right across the street. Just sat there and looked at the house. Saw Jimmy go in carrying a big bag of groceries. They got a nice, little supermarket down there. Everybody walks over. Don't have to drive, or nothing. Saw Little Chrissie come out. Saw her put the Baby in his stroller, cover him up real good and wheel him away. He could grab that Baby. He could take him. He could hide him somewhere and ask for money. What are they gonna do...call the cops? Jimmy ain't got no papers. How they gonna explain who they are? How they gonna say where all the money comes from? Might be able to fool small town cops 'round here, but kidnapping's a federal offense..... Muscles don't like to think of himself as a kidnapper... but he still thinks about doing it. 

He sat out there in the car for about an hour and a half. The air felt good. Nobody noticed. Lots a places were empty. Who's gonna look at a white car? Half the cars they got down here are white. But then, around three o'clock, the school must a let out, 'cause all of a sudden there were kids in the street. And kids (some kids) look at everything. So he turned on the ignition and pulled away. 

Muscles likes driving. It relaxes him. The seventy two miles back to Marty's house went by real fast... But he likes money even more. 

Just before he got back, he turned into a McDonalds for some burgers. You know, the cheap shit from the value menu..... At least they'd have something.

You know what Jimmy had in that grocery bag?... Deli stuff... good deli stuff... good corned beef... good turkey... good tavern ham. They have this real good homemade potato salad in that market. He had that too. He had a whole lot a good stuff. 

They had a good lunch. They had a real good lunch....

But that night, when they went to sleep, Marge triple checked all the locks, 'cause she had like a feeling...

And back at Marty's place, Muscles still heard the voices........

_____________________________________________ 

58TH BINGO BOY episode 1/12/13

Bingo Boy - post 58

They had these real comfy, pillow-top mattresses from Kensington Furniture on Tilton Road. Everybody from 'The Downbeach' gets their stuff from them. Marge saw a commercial on TV. She and Jimmy called them up. Got a few other 'pieces' too. That's what they call them. They call them pieces. Didn't buy no doo-dads (Ricky calls them tchotskies) for the kids rooms. Gonna let them do that themselves. Little Chrissie says Marge has to dress better too. Not more expensive. That isn't it. Just more low key. Marge knows. She's seen magazines. She used to watch Martha Stewart.. Tomorrow they're gonna go look for stuff. Got a KNIT WIT store on the avenue. And I don't mean like Frankford Avenue where the bingo joint used to be. I mean Ventnor Avenue and that's a whole other thing. They got red brick sidewalks and fancy, black iron street lamps with hangin' plants all over 'em... even in winter time too. I like being a disembodied ghost/spirit narrator 'round here. And no, I ain't Gloria. She off wanderin' the sea floor for a little while. Dead folks like to do that, since breathin' don't pose no problem. Vampires like to do it too, 'cause they just breathe outta habit. But we ain't got no vampires in this story... just us... just the ghost narrators. Gloria enjoys findin' stuff. She likes discovering things... like a three hundred pound grouper (big, carp-like fish) what got a decomposin' Japanese fella in its belly. Don't know how he got in there. Seem his ghost is somewhere else. But she see him, 'cause she stick her head inside the fish. ghost/spirits can do that. Then she find a shitty diaper. Ocean got lots a shitty diapers. Folks is always changin' babies. And what are they gonna do? They just wrap it up and set it free. Lot a people think the crabs'd eat it. But they like dead cats and white folks a whole lot better. Good, dead, white lady like a feast.

I would tell you my name, but I do not know it. Maybe I don't want a know it. Don't know how long I been dead either. My bones is still wedged in deep under the Boardwalk. Not here. Not in Margate. Ain't got no boardwalk in Margate. I wedged in a few miles up the beach, in Atlantic City. Folks stroll over me most every night. I say - Howdy do?.... Sometime I float up under a lady's dress, but I jus' do it sometimes...

I'm in Margate, 'cause the wind blew me here. Ghost/spirits can do that. We jus' rise up in the air and catch a breeze. I like it here. Drift in and out a whole bunch a nice houses. Half a them all closed up for the winter. Sometimes I visit with what ghosts they got inside. Me an' an' old man what live by the bay ( he not all-the-way dead yet, but he will be) play games. We play 'movie stars' initials.' He tell me to go to hell, 'cause I always win. I say - How you know I not already there?... But that jus' make him madder and he tell me to go to hell some more... Most mortal human beans can't see me, but he can. Dogs can too. So can cats, but they too stuck up to admit it.

You see, when folks go 'guhk' ('dies' I mean) they gives 'em a job. I a night-guard. I watch folks... livin ' folks. Not every night, jus' when I got too. Gloria help when she feel like. I watching the new folks what bought Gloria's house. She think they a little bit common... nice, but common. Me, I don't judge people like that. Got one cute baby boy, though. He like when I sing songs at night. He like 'Old Susanna' and 'Banjo On My Knee.'... Some babies can't see no ghost, but some can. He one a the kind what can... An' he don't think a me as no ghost, jus' a regular person what lost his whole body. He not prejudiced that way. We say the word 'ghost.' We use it too, but we don't like it. 

Feel like somebody gonna try somethin'. Somebody wanna hurt 'em, or steal from 'em, or something like that. We feel things. It like 'lectricity.... Sometime it jus' tingle..... 

But sometime it hurt.....

An' this feel like one a the hurtin' times...

___________________________________________

57TH BINGO BOY episode 1/11/13

Bingo Boy - post 57

Too-Many-Cookies sees everything. She's always either looking out the window, or dragging that little shit machine of hers all over the street. They ought to give her a P.H.D. in 'how to peek through curtains without getting caught'? I bet there's a college that would do it. Come on. For money? There has to be. What do you think? So you know she saw that limo take Little Chrissie and Ricky and the Baby away. And you know she scribbled down the license plate number. She's got an old pair of binoculars. Not really binoculars, more like opera glasses. You know those little ones, the kind you can snap shut into their own rectangular case? Think her mother boosted 'em from a show somewhere. 

So she calls Muscles. Got his cell phone number and everything. Says it's something big. Says she gotta talk to him. He says - What?.... She giggles. Well, you know she got the hots for him. He knows too. Used to rub her back and make like he didn't realize he's ticklin' her butt when she played bingo and all. Man is he an expert bingo-gigolo. 'Too' used to buy him shirts and give him tips and get him presents and everything. Now she has to see him. Wants a meet at the Red Robin Diner up on the nice part a Frankford Avenue, away from all the 'el' tracks. Mary, her mother (another 'case' if ever there was one) drove her up there, 'cause the don't want nobody on the street seein' her get into Muscle's car. That way, if he don't come, she can still get herself a nice stack a buttermilks and a good piece a grilled ham..... Boy, could I go for that. Too bad I'm just one a them disembodied, ghost-spirit narrators. Now I gotta eat ghost-ham. Some a the bastids 'round here like it, but I think it tastes like Weight Watchers crap.

But Muscles did come. He did show up. She sees him park the car and quick yanks the pig scraps out from between her teeth. You know it's been warm around here lately, like fifty or fifty five degrees. So he got this cool jacket on with the collar turned up and his blue jeans and all. Think he got new sneaks too. God knows where the money came from, less he cleaned the old ones with some a that sneaker shampoo shit.. 'Too' smiles when he walks in. Watches him walk down the aisle and all. Waitress eyes him too, but I think she knows him from the cop days. Maybe they used a mush up together. I don't know. But he used to come in for coconut-custard pie and coffee on a regular basis.

Too says - You want something to eat? My treat..... He gives her his best street corner shrug, like he don't care, or he don't know if he cares. But the waitress thinks he's noddin' to her, so she comes runnin' over anyway.... Muscles goes - Lemme have a ham and cheese omelet.... Waitress goes - Drink?.... He says - Coffee... She goes - Peh-tay-dehs?.... He says - Home fries..... She goes - Bread?.... He says - Whole wheat toast..... You know ex-cops like to stay in shape and all.....

Five minutes later they tuck into a good, diner style breakfast. Then he belches a little... like a quiet one. You could see it, more than actually hear it... 'Too' says - God bless you.... But he just goes on eatin'. She says - I got the license number from the car, from the limo 'he' sent for 'em..... He looks up. That's how he says 'yeah?'... So she takes out the paper (got it stuffed down her meaty cleavage.... you know she rehearsed that part) and gives it to him..... He reads it, nods and stuffs it in his shirt pocket....... 'Too' says - So, does it help you any?..... Muscles goes - Could be.....

But he knows. He knows he can trace it... find the company... find the driver.... find the pick-up point (and he already knows that)... find the drop-off point.... That's what he really wants. Bet it takes him fifteen minutes..... He got friends still 'servin'.' Cops got computers what can key into anything.

So our happy, little family down the shore ain't hid so good no more.

Eh... what can you do?....

___________________________________________













.

BINGO BOY - post 56

Marty sat all by himself. Nobody came to the house. Who'd he have? Wife left. Kids left. Neighbors all hated him. Sure, Muscles was there... but he didn't count. Crapped up the kitchen with all them take out Chinese food containers. Wants a bring one of his sticky whores in to spend the night, but Marty won't have it... not in his kids' house. 

Some nights he sits there listing to 'Fun' for hours. I think he's got it on a loop. 'Carry On, Carry On, Carry on'... Makes him feel a little better.. Gotta find a line. Gotta 'rep' something good. Maybe ride the train into Manhattan some morning. Fix himself up. Put on a suit. He could do it..... maybe.... But then, when he'd finally turn the music off and it got quiet, he knew he couldn't do it. Got no connections. ..... Gee, Bingo was a good racket. You know Steve Wynn and his father started that way? A lot a people started that way. But Marty was dumb. He was hungry. He couldn't wait. ...So now he had shit.

Most of the rooms were empty. Some furniture jobber gave him eighteen hundred dollars for the lot. Dining room was separate. Pool table was separate. Piano was separate... Big deal. How far's ten thousand bucks gonna go? 

Muscles might help these crooked cops he knows shake down drug pushers., but Marty can't do that. Know what he does to save money? Early Bird Specials... He goes to early bird specials. Eight ninety nine... you get the whole deal..swiss steak, mashed potatoes, peas, a salad, cake, soda. OK, so he tips 'em two bucks. It's still worth it... Plus it gets him outta the house.

He tried calling his father-in-law's place, but after two rings he hung up. Too-Many-Cookies says she knows they're all at the shore. Jimmy and them shit-for-brains kids, I mean. Marty has this 'thing' he plays over and over in his head. It's like a play. It's like a movie. He sees it all. Corners them at the new place. He's got a gun. Muscles got a gun. Makes Jimmy turn over the money. But it's just a dream. Tony Soprano, he ain't.

Now his sneakers are wearing out. The refrigerator's makin' noise. And he thinks he's got the shingles.

Look, if you rode by the house, you wouldn't suspect nothin'. Lawn looks all right. It's winter time. Don't have to cut it now. Drive ain't got no cracks. Fake stucco still looks good..... Yeah, he's got some equity in the place. But you know Mrs. Marty and the 'puppies' gonna get that...... And you wanna hear a good one?..... Big Chrissie and her Hitler-Groupie pop-pop still want money for the new baby.

'New baby'.... What a joke that is..... but it's his....

Marty stays up real late every night now. Watches them Hoda-Kathy-Lee reruns at two a.m...... Then he watches that Kramer guy go nuts on MAD MONEY...

Too bad he ain't got nothin' to invest.....

_______________________________________________

55TH Bingo Boy episode 1/8/13

Bingo Boy - post 55

So the first couple days in Margate went pretty good. They walked all around town, took the Baby to see 'Lucy the Elephant,' a hundred and thirty year old six story, iron-clad building shaped like some maha-raja's howda topped, oriental fantasy. She's got a porthole right where an anus should be  and a cute, little souvenir cottage filled with seashore sofa-throws, kitchy pillows and pachyderm shaped refrigerator magnets.  Marge dropped sixty dollars on a couple gee-gaws... The zeal of the new convert and all that. 

Little Chrissie quietly took it all in. You know she watches Charlie Rose. That girl thinks.  She studied the million dollar homes on the parkway, a wide, landscaped, six block stretch more akin to Beverly Hills than the shore.  OK, so they don't have any palm trees, but the holly trees and maples look real good too. Besides, if you look close, a few of the properties have carefully sheltered, sturdy specimens (palms, I mean) peeking out from sunny, side yards and wind-free, little nooks. This town knows how to live......

Jimmy wasn't saying, but he sensed it too. They needed something, like a goose to lay the golden eggs. You know, he's shrewd. He picks up this stuff.  Gotta find a business.... some sure thing, maybe like one a the shops on Ventnor Avenue, or a share in some, trendy, bayside eatery. Some guys lost plenty in the hurricane. But the damage was spotty. Gotta ask around. Gotta talk to people. Smile a lot. Be friendly. He can do that... turn on the old 'how it was done in Odessa' charm. Partners aren't that hard find. Look what he did with Marty.......

Ugh... poor Marty. He's gonna have a heart attack. I'm telling you. Sits in the house all by himself. Sure, Mrs. Marty would love to come back and kick him out. Kids wanna come back too. But how long could they stay? He don't have any money. How long would they manage? Who'd pay the bills? So she and the kids bunk with her folks (I think we told you her dad has some money.) and he pawns Henredon diningroom furniture. Jewelry's all gone. What did he have?... A watch?... A ring?... Can't watch cable. That's gone... Plays solitaire in the kitchen... Listens to all the crazies on talk radio.... and plots with Muscles....

Yeah, they talk about revenge. Empty safe deposit boxes will do that to people. Plus, Big Chrissie's pressuring him to pay toward the baby. He knows Jimmy's down the shore somewhere. He knows that's where the money is. And Muscles knows guys on the force. Not just in Philly. In Jersey too.

I think he even sleeps there now (Muscles, I mean). Not Jersey, Marty's house. They eat eggs and five dollar, take-out pizzas from Little Ceasar. They get nervous. They drum on the counter..... Muscles says - What do you think they'd do if we kidnapped the Baby? Like if we found him and we grabbed him?...... Marty just looks at him and goes - Yo, shit for brains, I got kids. We ain't kidnapping nobody.....  Muscles just shrugs. He acts real casual, but he's thinking too. If you ask me, he's gonna go rogue and try something on his own. Maybe hook up with Big Chrissie's pop-pop. That Nazi bastid would love an excuse to shoot somebody....

The Baby's having a good time, though. Goes -'Woof! Woof! Ya, Ya, Ya' to all the cute, little doggies. And they got lots a pretty doggies at the shore. He likes his new stroller. He likes getting bundled up and rolled around on all the bright, chill days. Marge got him some outfits at Kidrageous. What a baby-deluxe he is!

Listen, before I stop, lemme tell you what Ricky wants to do. I might a said something before. I don't know. Being a disembodied spirit don't mean you think straight. I can vouch for that..... He wants a sell real estate and maybe flip some a those neat, little duplex condos back by the bay.

Jimmy don't say nothing, but he might let him do it. Still  they gotta make sure they got the money laundered right.

Guy at a bank said he'd handle it, but Jimmy don't trust him. That's just the way he is...

Gee, it's nice around here in the winter time. You can hear the waves and everything...so quiet and clean and nice... I never get tired of it...

This is 'Headless Tommy' (Google Vampire Wonderland by Billy Kravitz, Headless Tommy... if you forgot, or never knew who I was), drifing off to wander the dark, cold byways  at the world famous Jersey Shore...

______________________________________________

54TH BINGO BOY episode 1/6/13

Bingo Boy - post 54

Ricky, Little Chrissie and the Baby pulled up in the middle of a perfect, seashore, winter afternoon. The sky was deep blue and crisp as only a coastal sky can be. Jimmy was out on the patio beaming and nodding as they got out....... 'I did good?' he said...... They both agreed, since neither had ever lived in surroundings such as these. Bare maples lined the curbside. Small, mauicured flower gardens lead up to the very well maintained domiciles. Here and there designer canines yelped and barked. Each driveway featured somewhat costly representatives of contemporaty automotive arts.

Ricky said, 'So, Jimmy, how much?'...... 'For me to know,' came the reply. ....Little Chrissie said' ' Where's Mommy?'.... But just then Marge came outside too. They all simply grinned and smiled. Dreams occasionally do come true.

They saw all the highpoints... the exterior niceties, the multi-paned windows, the flagstone paving and inside everybody 'oohed' and 'aahed' over the gleaming hardwords and requisite granite finishes. Marge served iced tea and snacks in the kitchen... mostly just cubes of Velveeta cheese and supermarket pepperoni, but she'll learn.

My name is Gloria. I'm the 'ghost' telling this part. Their house used to be mine. My husband bought it in nineteen fifty six. We were newlyweds. He was a lawyer. Worked for all ther big hotels in Atlantic City. Back then we had The Chalfont-Haddon Hall and the Dennis. Fine, old places that the Downton Abbey crowd would have felt right at home in. Each town had a certain profile. Cape May was upperclass Protestant. The Wildwoods (new in those days) attracted Catholics. Atlantic City's inlet section was for the Jews. The neighborhood surrounding Convention Hall (Boardwalk Hall, now) housed mostly Italian Catholics. Ocean City began as middle class Protestant, but quickly gentrified, augmented by a sprinkling of new money Irish, such as Philadelphia's Kelly Family..... the progentitors of Princess Grace, incase you don't know.

My new roommates, the older couple, the younger ones and the baby, have some work to do. People around here are accepting... to a point. Some will ask polite questions. Oh, the days of religious segregation are gone, but people still like to know where the money comes from.

Ricky senses this. He's worried. Not that he doesn't like what he sees, but he thinks... He's concerned. What will he do? How will he present himself? What will he say?

The others haven't gotten to that point yet, but they will. Hope none of the old retired gentleman around here recognise the grandmother, or whatever she is. That would be so sad. You do know she 'serviced' a rather select clientele?

Money changes everything.... Now it's time to learn some brand new rules...

____________________________________________