Scenes, skits and silly musings
Anudda Sunday afternoon in 'Jersey finds our friends Rocco and Carlo enjoyin' a nice cool
day in Rocco's backyard. Carlo has been doin' some thinkin... Oh Jeezus Christ... lol

Rocco: "You awfully quiet ova dare, s'matta?"
Carlo: "Ya know somethin'? We oughta open a go-cart track."
Rocco: "Who should do what??"
Carlo: "Go-carts. Ya know, those little - "
Rocco: "Yeah-yeah-yeah, I know what they are! The fuck you wanna do dat for?"
Carlo: "You don't like go-carts?"
Rocco: "I'm a sixty-year old man, why would I wanna ride around in somethin' made for children??"
Carlo: "They're not just fuh kids, everybody can drive 'em!"
Rocco: "And why da Hell would I wanna open a track? You start drinkin' again?"
Carlo: "It just seems like a fun thing to do is all."
Rocco: *shakes head*

They are now joined by Rocco's favorite neph, Anthony.

Rocco: "Oooooh, there he is! The John Wayne of dick-slingin'!"
Carlo: "Aay Ant'ny, how you doin?"
Anthony: "Aay, what's goin' on?" *takes a seat next to his uncle*
Rocco: "We were just discussin' the finer virtues of entrepreneurial endeavors."

Anthony looks over to Carlo and they both shrug.

Rocco: "Carlo wants to open a go-cart track!"
Anthony: "Hey those uh fun!"
Rocco: "Aww Jeezus, you too??"
Carlo: "I told ya Rock!"
Anthony: "Yeah, summertime there's more college cooze dare than the free clinic!!"
Rocco: "Ooh Jeezus Christ on steroids, I KNEW dare had to be a reason!!"
Anthony: "Dat warm weather, the vibrating of the motor, those chicks just can't help themselves!"
Rocco: "Alright! Alright! Christ. You sure you two aren't related??" *looks at Carlo & Anthony*
Anthony: "It's true!"
Rocco: "Can we not have ONE conversation that doesn't revolve around a woman's private parts?"
Carlo: "You're makin way too much of dis."
Anthony: "Yeah Uncle Rock, what's wrong wit a little pink in da discussion?"
Rocco: "Aaay, time and place! But wit Carlo, it's every fuckin' sentence! Like a high school kid!"
Carlo: "You rather I talk about cocks?"
Anthony: *laughs*
Rocco: "Don't get cute wit me you fuck!!"
Carlo: "I still think it's a good idea though. They fold paper like a printing press!"
Anthony: "He's right, one weekend and you can rake it da fuck in!"

Rocco was never one to turn his nose up at a lucrative opportunity. This may require further thought.

Rocco: "For da sake of argument, what all would dis go-cart thing entail? On our end?"

And thus their potential future in the go-cart racket is born. Maybe... probably not, but we'll see.
Carlo's been doin' some thinkin'... and fuh once, it wasn't about lady parts. lol

*sound of doorbell*

Rocco: *answers door*
Carlo: *standing outside in full workout gear - sweats, headband and reflective jacket*
Rocco: *bursts into guffaws of laughter*
Carlo: "Fuck you laughin' at?"
Rocco: *tries to talk through wheezing hysterics*
Carlo: "What?? What's so funny?"
Rocco: *trying to get the words out*
Carlo: "Aww fuck dis!" *turns to walk away*
Rocco: "No! Wait!" *struggling*
Carlo: *stops, waits*
Rocco: *catching his breath* "Jeezus, who da fuck you 'spose ta be, Richard Simmons?"
Carlo: "I'm takin' steps towards improving my health and you just gonna break my balls?"
Rocco: "Carlo, you show up at my front door dressed like an aerobics instructor version of 
Danny DeVito and I'm NOT 'sposed ta laugh?"
Carlo: "I'm nowhere near dat short!!"
Rocco: "So what gives? Why you wearin' all dat?"
Carlo: "I told ya, I'm gettin in on dis health thing. Cardio. It's good for ya."
Rocco: "Genie makin' you do dis?"
Carlo: "I gotta be made to care about my health?"
Rocco: "That's historically been da case, yeah."
Carlo: "No, dis is all me."
Rocco: "So you come by for my blessing?"
Carlo: "No, I wanted to see if you'd go wit me."
Rocco: *laughs*
Carlo: "Again wit da laughin'!"
Rocco: "You want ME to go out dare wit YOU lookin' like DAT??"
Carlo: "No, you gotta change into sweats like me."
Rocco: "Are you outta ya mind? We'll look like a couple fruity pebbles!"
Carlo: "People go walkin' all the time wit dare workout buddies!"
Rocco: "Oooooh, you can stop right dare! I'm not doin' it!"
Carlo: "You don't wanna go for a nice walk?"
Rocco: "Why you gotta do dis tuh me?"

Rocco has always had a soft spot in his heart for Carlo. Especially after that little knee incident.
He doesn't want to be the stumbling block to Carlo's new health endeavor but it's Sunday and the
game's about to be on. What's he gonna do?

Carlo: "Daylight's burnin'..."
Rocco: "Aww fuck me..."

Rocco decides to go along wit dis thing. He runs back to change into more appropriate attire
as Carlo does a few stretches out front. 

Rocco: *out the door in navy blue track suit*
Carlo: "Ooooh, we got Dean Martin ova heeuh!"
Rocco: "Go fuck yaself Carlo..."
Carlo: "Let's do dis thing!"

They jump into Carlo's ride and set off on their day of health.

The two arrive at the park, get out of the car and head for one of the walking trails.

Rocco: "Nice wide paved trails. Newark finally doin' somethin' good wit our tax dollas!"
Carlo: "Yeah, I like dis place."
Rocco: "So how long you good for? An hour?"
Carlo: "I dunno, we'll just hafta see."
Rocco: "Don't overdo it on ya first day, worse thing ya could do!"
Carlo: "I know my limits."
Rocco: "Good, so do I..."

They make their way down the beautifully manicured trail when Carlo catches glimpses. Yeah. Glimpses.

Carlo: "Oofah, check out dat caboose!"
Rocco: "And there we have it folks, his reason for comin' out in dis bullshit weather!"
Carlo: "I'm not 'spose to notice an ass like dat?"
Rocco: "Every time, Carlo? EVERY TIME??
Carlo: "Hey, God put women here for us to love! What's wrong wit dat?"
Rocco: "Eye-rape ain't love Carlo, come on!"
Carlo: "You tellin me dat ain't some sweet bubble action??"
Rocco: "Yeah, it's nice, but you gotta little obsession thing goin on here."
Carlo: "Obsessed or no, she could park her train car right in my depot!"
Rocco: "Maybe try takin' in da trees, the udda nice scenery?"
Carlo: "I'm doin' dat too! I'm wunna those multi-taskers!"
Rocco: "Yeah, OK, whateva..."

They keep walkin down that trail until Carlo decides it's time for a break. Finding a wooden bench, they
have a seat to catch their second wind.

Carlo: "I can feel that burn!"
Rocco: *looks at watch* "We've been walkin' all of fifteen minutes!"
Carlo: "Yeah, I know! Coupla savages eh!"
Rocco: *shakes head*
Carlo: "Dis was a good idea, tanks fuh comin' wit me Rock! I appreciate it."
Rocco: "Yeah, I don't wanna see ya keel ova wit a heart attack or some shit."
Carlo: "Dat's cuz ya love me. We're Family!"
Rocco: "Jeez Carlo, it's either pussy or gettin' mushy."
Carlo: "It's good to be in touch wit ya emotions!"
Rocco: "Yeah, I guess so..."
Carlo: "I'm kinda hungry. I didn't have breakfast."
Rocco: "I could eat. What ya thinkin?"
Carlo: "Taco Bell?"
Rocco: "Ya first day out on dis new exercise program and you already wantin' fast food?"
Carlo: "They got dis new spokeslady in their commercials. She's really cute!"
Rocco: "Yeah, and?"
Carlo: "The way she says Gordita, it's adorable!"
Rocco: *stares*
Carlo: "I thought we could drop in to see if she's ova dare? Makin' a guest appearance or somethin.'"
Rocco: "Einstein, they make those commercials in fuckin' Los Angeles or whateva, corporate
headquarters! Nobody in those ads are gonna be here in fucking Newark!"
Carlo: "You always wit da negativity!"
Rocco: "I'm not sayin' we can't go, but you gotta reel in ya expectations! Be realistic."
Carlo: "I want her to make my order! And to say Gordita a few times. You should hear her. It's bliss!"
Rocco: "You are a strange, weird fuck Carlo."
Carlo: "It's Border time!!" 

They hop to it and head for The Bell.

Rocco finds a spot to park and they get out. Carlo looks through the window.

Carlo: "Holy fuckin' cannoli, SHE'S IN THERE!!"
Rocco: "The fuck she is!!"

They both storm inside and Carlo lays eyes on his new TV crush.

Rocco: "Yeah, look at her. Wonderful."
Carlo: *stares in rapture*
Rocco: "You done??"
Carlo: "Ain't she Heavenly??"
Rocco: *facepalms* "It's a cardboard fuckin' cut-out ya peabrain!"
Carlo: "It looks so real. Life-sized and all."
Rocco: "Did I ever tell you dat you was weird?"
Carlo: "I gotta do it Rock..." *walks towards cardboard cut-out*
Rocco: "Carlo, you get your ass right back ova here!"
Carlo: *hugs the cardboard Lady Bell*
Rocco: "Aww Jeezus, look at yaself! What are ya doin??"
Carlo: *sheds a couple tears*
Rocco: "Dear God, you ARE a picture! *looks around embarrassed*
Carlo: "That was everything I thought it could be."
Rocco: "Can we just order our food and get the fuck outta here????"
Carlo: "Dita's on me!"

Carlo steps to the plate and swings a grand slam for Dita Lovers everywhere! Oooooooooh!!

; )
Betty Lynn Parker was a sweet little old lady. 

She never had children but her love for cats filled that void. Always baking cookies, muffins and treats 
for her neighbors and friends, there wasn't a time you could find her without a smile. Friday nights
at the bingo hall were her favorite. She'd sit between Lela and Carole and they'd talk it up for the whole
two hours. B-19, that's the one! All she needed for the win. B-19!

After being dropped off and saying her goodnight pleasantries, she'd head inside to feed those five
hungry felines. They would swarm her as she came through the door. 

"Friday night salmon!!" she'd always say.

Those cats really were her life. Without them she'd probably feel that hard, cold loneliness that so many
other people her age feel. She made sure to pamper those little lions too! Even going so far as to buy
each one of them their very own custom-fit cat harness. Sunday mornings were made for kittie cat walks
at the park by the lake. People would stare, smile and offer friendly comments when they saw her out
there doing her thing. Where else could you expect to see a little grandmotherly lady out walking five
cats? It truly was a sight to behold. 

Sunday evenings wound down with her sitting in her favorite chair, drinking chamomile tea and reading
that week's book club selection. As she neared the end of a chapter, a faint moaning could be heard. Her
eyes froze. She grabbed the bookmark and put it in place, setting the book down as she rose from her
comfy chair to investigate that sound.

Betty moved from her study out into the hall. Slowly, she stepped towards the back utility room. There it was
again. A muffled, grunting that left the impression that someone was in pain. She stood by her basement 
door now where the sound was loudest. A third time. This was no accident. Quickly, she shuffled into the 
kitchen to retrieve her emergency stand-by: an old snub-nose .38 kept in a secret drawer with a false

Gun in hand, she returned to that basement door. Now hearing an almost constant feedback of dull groaning.
She carefully opened that door and made her way down the creaky wooden stairs. Flicking on a dim, single
bulb light after reaching the bottom step, she looked across the room to find the source of those disconcerting
sounds. It was a man, naked and chained to the wall. His body striped with red lashes. He hung there like
a dirty dish cloth, limp and lifeless. She inched her way towards him, gun in front. She was now standing
just a few feet away. Clearing her throat brought his head up and instantly he began wailing.

"You keep it down or else tonight you leave this world, got it??"

Betty Lynn had secrets...
Hey everybody, it's ya favorite New Jersey resident, Carlo from the News Stand!!

And I'm here today to announce that the "Got It Made wit Rocco" podcast now has a website
and merch store! You demanded it and We delivered!! Thank you all for your loving support
and well wishes as we continue to do our thing betta dan anybody else!

So come see us at [NOT a real website! lol]
and get all your favorite slogans on whateva blows ya skirt up! 

We got t-shirts, coffee mugs, baseball caps, mouse pads, sweatshirts, hoodies, everything AND the fuckin'
kitchen sink! Get ya swag today and beat da Christmas rush! 

*off-camera screaming* Rocco: "It's FESTIVUS!!!!"

Choose from our wide selection:

Got It Made wit Rocco
Dr. Rocco's Sex Help Show
Get Dat Mitt!!
Prenatal Insurrection
FUCK Public Access TV!!
Next Stop: Screamsville
Lay Off The Horses, Carlo!
Screamin' Anger into Slippery Hollow
The Magic Dolphin Supper Club
Only Champions Slurp at Velvet Valley!
Carlo Says: Get Glazed Like a Donut!
Those Who Slay Togedda, Stay Togedda
The John Wayne of Dick-Slingin'
Don't Touch My Cannoli!!
NEVER Trust a Todd!!
Cousin Sal's Culinary School
Don't Get Choppy wit Me!
I'll Be Ya Artie!
25% is RAPE!
It's Carlo from the News Stand
Carlo's School of Ninja Training
It's NOT a Strippa Pole!!
59 Today, 75 Tomorrow
Get Jiggled at Bouncin' Betty's
Carlo's Five Easy Steps to Conquering the Female Species
Carlo: Ya Favorite New Jersey Resident
Fuckin' Tuesdays!
Lasagna's My Strong Suit
BBQ Day wit Kid Ketchup
Old Paisan's Brewing Company
Cent'anni Cocksuckas!
Uncle Rocco's Go-cart Kingdom
Don't Get Cute wit Me, You Fuck!
Gettin' Cardio wit Carlo
Go Fuck Ya'self Carlo!

Enter discount code: FUHGEDDABOUDIT and receive 15% off your first order!! Ooooooh!!
I am officially off the deep end. Eek
Carlo decides to take a two-prong approach to his new health & fitness goals.
He also has a frank and honest conversation with a discarnate voice. M-A-D-O-N!!! lol

Carlo: *last few minutes on his exercise bike*
Discarnate Voice: "Jeeeeeezus, get the fuck off me!!"
Carlo: *looks around, keeps pedaling*
DV: "You deaf? Get off me ya fat fuck!"
Carlo: *stops bike* "Hello?"
DV: "Yeah, finally!"
Carlo: "Who's dat?"
DV: "It's me, down here!"
Carlo: "Who? Down where?"
DV: "ME! Ya fuckin' prostate!"

[DV now becomes Prostate.]

Carlo: "My what?"
Prostate: "Me, ya fuckin' prostate gland?? Little walnut sized thing up yer ass??"
Carlo: "And you can talk??"
Prostate: "I can tuhday! So you's betta listen!"
Carlo: *gets off bike, walks to kitchen for some water*
Prostate: "You need to stop sittin' on dat damn bike so long!"
Carlo: "I gotta get my cardio in."
Prostate: "But ya KILLIN ME!!!"
Carlo: *takes drink, then calls Rocco on the phone*
Prostate: "Fuck you doin??"
Rocco: *answers phone* "Hello?"
Carlo: "Aaay, Rocky!"
Rocco: "What!"
Carlo: "I got a question for ya."
Rocco: "GO."
Carlo: "Can your prostate talk ta you?"
Rocco: "Can my what do what???"
Carlo: "Prostate. Can it talk to ya?"
Rocco: Carlo, I want you to do me a favor."
Carlo: "What's that?"
Rocco: "Hang up, then call 9-1-1. OK? Will ya do dat fuh me?"
Carlo: "Why? I'm not in no medical emergency!"
Rocco: "If you're talkin to ya prostate then there's definitely somethin' fucky goin on!"
Carlo: "So you're not gonna answer my question?"
Rocco: *hangs up*
Carlo: "Yes or No would do." *waits*

Carlo realizes what has happened. Again. Rocco likes the hang-up. It's a signature move fuh him.

Prostate: "You ready to listen now?"
Carlo: "This is too fucked up."
Prostate: "Not yet it ain't! But you keep goin' and you can say goodbye to erections and pissin' normal!"
Carlo: "You're not a doctuh! You can't give medical advice!"
Prostate: "Naw fuckface, I'm part of ya goddamn body! I LIVE in this cesspool you call home!"

Carlo walks over to the sofa and has a seat.

Prostate: "Won't take a minute... might save ya life?"
Carlo: *thinks about it*
Prostate: "And could ya shift ova onto one ass cheek while yer at it? I can't fuckin' breathe down here!"
Carlo: "Say what ya gotta say already!"
Prostate: "Finally! OK, it's good that you've taken an interest in ya health lately but you're not doing enough!
Carlo: "Fuck you talkin' about?"
Prostate: "Well, ya diet is still pretty fucked."
Carlo: "What do you mean, I cut all the sugar and reduced my salt and fat! What more can I do?"
Prostate: "Jeezus, will you listen to ya'self? Nearly everything you eat is on the medical DO NOT list!"
Carlo: "Like what?"
Prostate: "All those Italian cold cuts, sausages, hot dogs, BACON, pork chops, it goes on and on!"
Carlo: "Fuck am I 'spose ta eat den?"
Prostate: "How's about some lean proteins like chicken, turkey, fish?"
Carlo: "I eat those too!"
Prostate: "Come on Carlo! I'm in here processing all that nasty shit you shove in ya mouth!"
Carlo: "I don't believe dis."
Prostate: "And God fuhbid you ever eat a fuckin' vegetable! When's da last time you did dat? Fifth grade??"
Carlo: "Fuck you, I always get my Fat & Greasy's all-the-way! Lettuce, toms, pickles, onions, the whole nine!"
Prostate: "Will you just listen to ya'self? Sound like a dope-addict ova here!"

Carlo has a moment to think. Maybe he was goin' a little hard on the nitrates? Would he hafta give it all
up to save his little walnutty buddy?

[ A continuation of the story from post #109]

The thunderous hammering of sticks came abruptly to a halt; dead silence.

Somehow this worried him even more. Then, the door flew open and those armadillo-sized rats
scurried out of the scant wooden hovel. Appearing in the doorway was a figure holding a torch.
A primitive clay mask covered their face as they entered and freed the man bound to the rusted
metal pole. The mystery person motioned for him to walk through the doorway and he did.

Once outside he was met by two more masked individuals. The first one locked the hut and turned 
to give a nod to the others to take the man with them. They began walking him up the tiny trail through
the dense, dark wooded night. The broken thumbs were now causing his hands to swell. Pain was nothing
new to him but this all-over bruising ache was formidable. Not to mention the unbridled terror he was
feeling. Although it had calmed down to a more acceptable sheer panic. Where were they taking him?

Soon, they reached a clearing. A large bonfire could be seen at the edge of the small field. He could make
out figures dancing around that fire. As they got closer the chanting grew louder and more intelligible.

"Wa-NAY-Nah, Oh-Na-DAY-Nah-Ho" was the repeated cry filling the icy air. He had no idea what it meant
but it reminded him of singing he'd heard during a Haitian Voodoo ceremony on one of those television
documentaries. This really put his back up. Close enough now to see the fire and dancers plainly, he noticed
that at the heart of that bonfire was his car. The one he left on the side of the road hours before. He'd had
a flat and no spare and was gracious for the ride he was offered by what he at the time thought was
a kind stranger. Life's turns could sometimes be cruel.

The two figures marched the man over to a large wooden post where they lashed him securely. He was once
again tied and subject to the will of others. Things weren't looking good.

He could hear yelling in the distance. It was getting closer. He could tell it was a man screaming through
tearful begging. Now just several feet away, he was certain. Something akin to "Please don't do this!" in
Spanish. He wasn't fluent but that's about what it boiled down to. Suddenly he got very sick. A desperate
nausea washed over him head to toe. He was watching his own future play out in front of him.

"Noooo!!" cried the man who now spoke a few words in English.

"Pleeease Noooo!!" 

His heart broke as he watched them bind the man at wrist and ankle. They pushed him down onto his
knees and a tall, muscular figure walked over and grabbed him by his hair. With a long bladed knife
he opened the man's throat over a large earthen vessel. His blood ran cold and that once dull panic
was now prickling every inch of his skin. Tearing its way through his body and soul. The poor victim
now drained of his life force, his body was thrown onto that bonfire as the chanting grew louder and
more chaotic. 

This was the stuff of nightmares.
OK guise, new idea! [Oh God no..]

Rocco & Carlo [a la Beavis & Butthead] running commentary on YouTube videos... Eeeh, sounds like win tuh me! lol

*video starts*

Carlo: "I love roasted chicken!"
Rocco: "Yeah, good shit!"
Carlo: [0:14] "Rock, check my forehead!"
Rocco: "Fuh what!?"
Carlo: "I think I just came down wit a scorchin' case of Jungle Feva!"
Rocco: "Or ya just fuckin' retahded! Which is much more likely!"
Carlo: "You don't think she's pretty?"
Rocco: "Yeah, but can we just watch the video, please??"
Carlo: "OK..."
Carlo: [0:51] "I know where I'm goin' fuh MY prostate exam!"
Rocco: "You're disgusting Carlo. Completely and utterly."
Carlo: *shrugs*
Rocco: [1:15] "Ooooh, dat chicken musta owed her money!"
Carlo: *looks at Rocco, shakes his head No and rubs his bad knee*
Carlo: [1:29] "Place the thighs going outward? I LIKE THIS GIRL!!" *claps loudly*
Rocco: *shoots disapproving look*
Rocco: [1:39] "Ooooooooh!!! Bobby Calinetti! Poor prick!"
Carlo: *looks over questioningly*
Rocco: "Nuthin, nevermind! Forget it!" *BUSTED* lol
Carlo: [2:10] "Look at those sweet chocolate pillows just bouncin' would ya??"
Rocco: *pauses video* "Aay, you gonna watch dis thing or be a friggin' pervert here?"
Carlo: "Sorry! Just, they look good is all."
Rocco: "Keep ya eyes in ya head, Dr. Strangefuck!"
Carlo: [2:15] "Oooooh, you stay away from MY back cavity little lady!"
Rocco: "I don't disagree witchu, but can you? Please?"
Carlo: [2:20] "Every single crevice honey, you got it!"
Rocco: *gives another look of anger*
Carlo: *shrugs*
Rocco: [2:33] "Oooooooh, Vito Salatone! And dat's what happens when ya can't cover da spread!"
Carlo: "And I'M the bad one???"
Rocco: "Shut up, I didn't say nuthin!!"
Carlo: [2:45] "Come on now! You can't tell me that don't look sexual!?!?"
Rocco: "Just tuh you!"
Carlo: [2:55] "Yeah sweetie, use those fingas! Juuust like dat!"
Rocco: *pauses video AGAIN* "Ya know, I'm starting to regret even comin' ova heeuh!"
Carlo: "I can't unsee things, Rock."
Rocco: "Jeezus..."
Carlo: [3:14] "Holy Mother Mary! AND da back end!"
Rocco: "I'm just ignorin' ya now!"
Carlo: [3:30] "Oh I'm already makin' gravy ova heeuh sweethart!"
Rocco: *ignoring him*
Rocco: [3:51] "I bet dis broad could make a Hell of a marinara!"
Carlo: *sits salivating*
Rocco: [4:35] "Good lookin' bird! Make a damn good sangwich!"
Carlo: "Betta sangwich would be me, her and Dr. Melfi..."
Rocco: "Fuck you Carlo."
Rocco: "Dat's wunna da most important things about cookin' chicken, crispy skin!"
Carlo: "Yeah, nuthin worse than bitin' into dat rubbery shit!"
Rocco: [4:50] "Oooooh, Charlie Gastone! Fuckin' dead beat!!"
Carlo: *looks over again*
Rocco: "Just watch the fuckin' thing!!"
Carlo: [5:17] "Oh you are IT sweethart, yes! Do it! Those sounds are beautiful, keep goin!"
Rocco: *clears throat very loudly*
Carlo: "Look how she shakes dat hair, oof Madon!!"
Carlo: [5:40] "Thank you young lady! You've made my day!"
Carlo: [5:44] "Oh I'm leavin' you a comment! You betta know dat!!"
Rocco: "You're gonna get ya channel deleted and maybe arrested, you fuck!"
Carlo: "Take it easy, I'll keep it classy!"

Rocco bursts into laughter and rolls around on his end of the couch.

Rocco: *catching his breath* "Yeah, OK, you DO dat!"

Hahahaha, I'm thinkin' if this becomes a thing, three to four minute videos are gonna better.
"It's better than diggin' ditches, it's better than diggin' ditches..." he thought over and over.

This was just one more pep talk Eugene had to give himself before work. The glamorous life of a performer 
wasn't all it was cracked up to be. He loved the freedom but being self-employed did come with drawbacks.

"Make it while you're young and you can put your feet up a little when you get my age" was a line he always
remembered hearing from his old man. He never made out too good but he didn't die penniless neither. Never
one to be afraid of hard work, Eugene's father made sure to teach his boys that sweat and a sore back were
the hallmarks of a good man. "Don't ever shortcut your way through life" he would say. Another one was
"A man is only as good as his word". Eugene agreed on all counts, but did he live up to them? In total?

Time to punch that clock! He gets out of his car and walks to the front door of his next client. The sound 
from inside bleeding through and even though it made his heart sink, this was his thing. Choice! No boss
breathing down his neck with judgement or a superiority-complex. He could take as many jobs as he wanted
or he could tell them all to go to Hell and just sit on the couch until eviction day. That was power. At least
the only power Eugene had.

The door opened and it was show time! Oh the life of a clown magician...

After the birthday party extravaganza, Eugene needed a drink. More than likely several. There was this little 
place in the neighborhood he liked and would go every now and then. It was run by the same family for at 
least three generations. Spinetti's. You could drown your sorrows and feast on the best mortadella hoagies
in the zip code! While it was more of a bar, the deli next-door of the same name would cross-contaminate
in the most beautiful way. Who wouldn't want a nice Italian sandwich with crisped-up pork fat after knocking
back several cold ones? This was that place.

Eugene Kaluza was a sometimes fixture here. Growing up in the neighborhood, he knew the Spinetti family 
like they were his own. And they nearly were! Eugene's father was Polish, hence Kaluza. Meant "puddle" in
their language. But his mother was 100% Sicilian and could trace her roots all the way back to the old
country. Marino was her maiden name. After a couple buca's she'd get to telling you how her grandmother
came over on a supply ship to make America her home. She was feisty that one! Good as gold, just like
her son. 

He was Eugene to the world outside that door but in here, he was Geno.

"Aaaay, how you doin?" asked old man Spinetti.

"Above ground! Lemme have a Carlsberg pop!" 

Alfredo Spinetti, also known as Al or more lovingly as "pop", stood behind that bar with a huge smile on his
face to greet every single person that entered. It was that way for more years than he could remember and
would continue to be until he went on to Heaven. Medium height, plump and rosy-cheeked; he never made
an enemy. To know him is to love him had to be coined for old man Spinetti. As honest as the day was long, 
he never had any under-the-table dealings. Although he knew what his boys were mixed up in, they knew
better than to ever bring it home or to the bar. But those kinds of lines always had a way of blurring at the
worst times.

"Aaay, who's dat sad lookin bag?" called out a man in the back.

Geno looks over to see his long-time friend, Bobby Spinetti. He walks back to the booth and joins him.

"They still let you in here?" Geno asked smiling while throwing short playful punches.

"Hey, I'm what customers come to see!" Bobby returned as he hugged his friend.

They both sit and pop brings that nice cold pint over to Geno.

"Thanks pop! Lookin' sharp!" 

"Always good to see ya kid!" the old man said.

Geno takes a drink, Bobby sits staring at him, knowing that life couldn't be treating him very well. He had
that tired look. Not like "I've been working a lot lately" but more "Can I die now?" He had an idea.

"So, you still pullin' rabbits outta hats?"

"When I can catch 'em." Geno replied.

"Ya know, anytime you get sick of those little bastards kicking you in the shins and throwing cake into
ya face, I could line something up for you. Say the word. Capiche?" 

Geno knew what he was talking about. But he didn't want to go that way. He didn't see himself as that
kind of person. But something was for sure: He needed a change. And he needed it now!
The old house creaked with every step no matter which room you were in. The draft was a constant
source of cold and spoke of the many repairs that went forgotten. The fireplace crackled with a comforting
warmth that filled him with feelings of safety. Gazing into those orange flickering flames he found peace
that would otherwise not belong to him, not in this life.

After several minutes staring into those burning embers things began to happen. He wasn't sure why aside
from madness or maybe punishment from God, but slowly the build of this unsettling scene set upon him
and they returned once again; like they had every night for the last two weeks.

Pouring from that beautiful fire there came dozens of snakes, spiders and scorpions. Heaving in numbers
and multiplying by the second. They would crawl from that little sparkling Hell and scatter across the
room as he pulled his legs up onto the chair in attempt to keep them free of the inevitable infestation.

"Nooo!! You cannot have me!!" he shrieked while sweat dripped from his scowling face.

The flow of vermin continued and he kept screaming until his voice got scratchy. Fear was pumping his
heart at what had to be 180 beats per minute. His shirt now sticking to him from the layer of sweat
flowing from his pores. His gun lay on the table but it was across the room. If he could leap in one
big enough bound, he'd have a fighting chance. How many bites or stings would he sustain in such
a short amount of time? Would it be worth the risk of exposure? Three, two, one...

He wasn't sure how, but he did it! He now held that cold, black steel in his right hand and those
disgusting, vile creatures would pay! Lunging back towards that nice, big comfortable chair, he caught
his foot on the end of a small settee and fell short of the mark. Knees on the floor, face on the chair's
seat, he was now at their mercy. He pulled the hammer back, ready to blast holes in everything moving
when the calm hit. That high-pitch buzzing that had filled his ears only moments before was now
gone. And it took those awful abominations with it. He sat there on that hard wooden floor out of breath 
and holding that gun to his chest.

It was time to get back to work. Detective Douglas Peters stood up, wiped his drenched face and left the
safe haven of his living room. There were bad guys to catch.
[ A continuation of the story from post #129 ]

"You got anything goin' tomorrow?" Bobby asked.

"No, nothin'." Geno said wiping condensation from the glass with his thumb.

Bobby leaned closer to his friend across the table.

"Why don't you meet me here around nine in the morning? We'll take a ride."

Geno didn't like the sound of this. But he didn't like the sound of screeching kids either.

"What for?" he asked.

"You'll see." Bobby said with a wink.

No matter what it was, Geno knew it would stray very badly from any type of path he'd ever taken before.
He was deeply conflicted. He promised himself he'd never get involved. No matter how bad things got.

Well things were about to get a whole lot worse.
Bobby shuts the trunk of his car when an old friend comes ambling down the sidewalk.

"Robert Spinetti!" 

Bobby looks up and smiles.

"Ooooh, there he is! Mr. Straight Arrow!"

The man now stands next to Bobby casting a hard stare.

"What's that, another body?" the man says nodding towards his trunk.

"Does your boss know you're out here harassing American citizens?"

The man smiles and puts his hands into his pockets.

"Only the shitbags like you who live on the wrong side of things."

"It's a little early for you to be here askin' me out, no?"

"I know it was you that put that Dominican in the trash compactor. I just need to prove it."

"You hittin' the sauce already? It's barely nine a.m.!"

"And when I do, I'll be comin' for you, with a box of chocolates and a dozen roses."

"Whoa, I must be one hot piece of ass!" Bobby said tauntingly.

"And I'm gonna stick every last inch of my dick in ya too."

"You keep sweet talkin' me like dis and I'm gonna develop feelins."

"Do you fuck on the first date Bobby?"

"Oh I'd break all my rules for you cupcake!"

Agent David Gallo takes a few steps before turning back around.

"Long stems and thorns Bobby" he said walking away.

Geno makes the corner to see the conversation end. He smiles and nods but Agent Gallo only offers
a grimace. Not everyone is a morning person.

"What was that?" Geno asked.

"Marriage proposal!" Bobby said bumping his elbow into Geno's arm.

"Come on, let's go!"
The vintage Monte Carlo rumbles into the parking lot. It was empty. But it was only half past nine
in the morning.

The Pink Daisy. A middle of the road strip club sitting on the edge of the city. On a good night that
sign would be lit up and inside there'd be girls from 18 - 30 on stage doing what it took to get those
worthless humps in the crowd to throw as many dirty dollars at them as possible. Factory workers
to college boys, it was a full menu and those girls didn't discriminate. If you had that green paper
then you'd get a smile, a wink and maybe even a lap-dance. But that required a slightly more
substantial investment. It wasn't the Taj Mahal but it served its purpose.

"We havin' tiddies fuh breakfast?" Geno asked.

Bobby looks over smiling. "Come on limp-dick, let's break your cherry!"

They get out and Bobby walks to the trunk to retrieve a wooden baseball bat. Geno's eyes widen and 
they walk around back. Bobby beats on the door. Seconds later, it opens.

"Good morning Stanley!" Bobby says grinning widely.

They disappear inside.

"Bobby I swear I was gonna call you! Tonight!" the older man groveled.

"In the office!" Bobby said coldly.

They all go into Stanley's office and Bobby motions to Geno to close the door.

"Lock it!" Bobby demanded.

Geno didn't like this. Thirty seconds in and it was already feeling dangerous.

"I swear Bobby, I was! I'd never duck you!!" came the cries from the short, fat balding club owner.

"An entire fuckin' week Stanley!" 

"My kid broke his leg at football practice, it's been a whole thing wit him!"

Bobby backhands the man and he tumbles onto his desk.

"I'm sorry, Bobby please! I'm sorry!"

Geno looks on in disbelief. He'd never seen this side of his friend before.

"You owe me two fuckin' grand in vig alone you fat fuck!"

The man whimpers as he pushes himself off his desk.

"I just need a little more time is all, please! I would never make a fool out of you Bobby!"

"That's just it Stan, you already have!" Bobby says as he twirls that bat.

Bobby takes the gun from the small of his back and hands it to his friend.

"Hold this." he says as Geno stands like a deer in the headlights.

"Now you and ya kid can exchange war stories!" he said as he clacked that Louisville Slugger
off Stanley's left kneecap. The man howled in pain. Bobby rinsed and repeated a few times.

"Jesus Bobby, stop!" Geno cried.

Bobby turned smiling. "You want in on dis?"

Geno was mortified. "Fuck NO!"

Bobby handed him the bat and connected a few solid punches across Stanley's face.

"What do you got for me today Stanley??" Bobby asked between blows.

The older man stuttered a few unintelligible words when Bobby stopped the assault.

"Speak up cocksucka!"

"I got a grand in my top drawer! Take it! All of it!"

Bobby walked around the desk and found his partial payment. By this time the man was seated on
a chair crying into his hands.

"I'll be back Friday. Please don't disappoint me." 

Bobby moves towards Geno and holds his hand out for his gun. Geno passes it to him and he returns
it to its hiding place. He walks to the door, unlocks and opens it.

"Come on, we got three more to hit and I'm already hungry." 

What just happened? Geno's head was spinning and he didn't even get the bat. His stomach was in
knots and he didn't know how to process all of this. He followed Bobby out of the club and back into
the parking lot. Carrying that bat made him feel dirty, low-down. This couldn't be his life now.

Those magic tricks suddenly didn't seem so bad.
They finished up Bobby's collections and it was time for brunch. They sat in a rear booth at Bobby's
favorite greasy spoon diner as he demolished a breakfast platter with everything and Geno stared
emptily down into his cup of black coffee.

"It don't always work like dat, but sometimes ya gotta show some tough love."

Geno looked up at his friend to see him smiling between bites.

"So what did ya think? You like it?"

Geno felt shock. "Fuck no I didn't like it, kinda question is that?"

"Good, cuz if ya did I'd be worried."

Although he looked to be enjoying himself immensely, Bobby never truly took pleasure in the misfortune
of others. At least that's what he kept telling himself. Throwin' that beatin' to Stanley wasn't for fun, it was
about maintaining proper relations and staying on top of financial matters. Business.

If they got over on you, it looked bad. Word got out and you became a target. So to keep things upright
you'd have to walk a very thin line. Respect was demanded but the fear was inevitable. These small-time
business owners weren't forkin' over all that money out of love. They knew whose bad sides to keep off
of. Bobby Spinetti was most certainly one of those.

"You think you might want in? Do dis thing full time?" Bobby asked with a mouthful of food.

Geno was greatly concerned with himself that he even had to think before answering. Was he giving in 
to the wrong life? Easy money wasn't always clean money. Usually never was. But entertaining spoiled 
brats and their entitled parents wore thin on him and he almost didn't care how he got out of it as long 
as he did. He never wanted this but here it was; right in his lap.

The crossroads were not only calling, they were screaming.
Wording is still really clunky in all my writing but my main focus at this point is to just
peck 'em out and get the story told in one piece. I can always hone in and refine them
down the line. I just don't want to lose the ideas amidst trying to perfect wording/phrasing.

I've only been writing since the first few days of February 2017. So this is ALL still real new to me.
Numbness swallowed him as the snowy TV channel static grew louder and louder. Pulsing from his
left ear to his right, then it just blew full force in both until all he could hear was the endless battling
hiss that overwhelmed all senses and jarred him from that stupor. He shook hard almost knocking that
near empty cup over.

"Fuck's a matta witchu?" the slightly startled Bobby asked.

Geno looked around and tried to put it all together. He couldn't. What he did know was that none of this
was right. He'd never be able to look himself in the face again, in any mirror, if he went on in this most
misguided direction.

"Here, I can't take this!" he said as he slapped the $500 from his pocket onto the table.

It was his taste for the ride-along. It was the dirtiest kind of money and he wouldn't be party to that
kind of earning.

"I'll hold onto it for ya, OK?" Bobby said wiping his mouth with a white paper napkin.

Geno stood up from the booth and stared down at his old friend. 

"No, I don't want it. And I don't want this. I can't do it. I'm out."

He turned and walked away from Bobby and that whole horrible life. The closer he got to the door
the more himself he started to feel.

Sitting at that diner table he was Geno; an angry, fed-up, confused man with no idea of how to fix
what was wrong with him. Walking through that door into the outside world he once again became 
Eugene Kaluza; a man that knew what he was about and where his life would go. And it wouldn't 
involve hurting people or sacrificing his principles for any amount of power or money.

He walked five miles home that day. It was the best day of his Life.
They don't all end in tragedy. ; )
His double life was finally catching up to him. Driving fifty or more miles away several times a week
to be somebody else and live out their sinful desires was taking its toll. The hookers, coke, booze; it all
added up to one big blurry nightmare and he was feeling it hard! Something had to give, and soon.

That gun tasted like righteous reward as it rested on his quivering tongue. Sitting in his dimly lit office he knew
this was his only play for true redemption. Even if it meant eternal damnation. His finger snug against the
trigger, eyes closed and tears streaming; his heart beat out a sad, broken rhythm as his final moments
neared. Click. Empty chamber. It still sent shockwaves through his entire body. Sweat now mixing with
those tears. A dry run just to see if he had it in him. Maybe he did. No way to know for certain until that
baby was loaded and ready to go. He sat there holding that barrel in his mouth as his mind splintered
into panicked thoughts. A loud knock on his door brought him back. 

"We're ready to start!" said a woman's voice from the hall.

Methodist pastor Bob Waters was due for his Sunday night sermon. This was gonna be a rough one.
It was just anudda Thursday night in New Fuckin' Jersey...

Anthony was out drinkin' wit friends and eyein' up that little curly-haired cutie at the end of the bar.
Uncle Rocco was down in his basement/game room/podcast villa/whateva fighting that goddamned
Festivus pole! Carlo was in the movie room perched in front of the big screen watching some very
soft-core lesbian porn while Genie was upstairs in bed catching up on her stories. 

The weather was getting colder and before long, everyone would be in that old Christmas spirit.

Just anudda fuckin' Thursday...

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