CHAPTER FOURTEEN:  ALL'S WELL THAT SORTA' ENDS WELL


    
       The two fairly important guys in the trash business met Nick and Natch at the train station.  They took both of them to a doctor up north who didn't have two or three martinis for lunch and Nick was patched up pretty good.

     Later on they met with Joseph, who gave them the big hello and hugs and kisses, and oh my God!, stuffed twenty G's into each of their pockets with big smiles all around and about.

     Joseph was a somewhat steamed up the boys had to clip the fat wife, thinking this will cause somewhat of a dust up down there and hereabouts, which if they do their homework could cause some upsetment in and around these parts.

     The Old Man smiled, thinking, well that is the life we lead.

     And that, well, that's the stuff that happened before the other stuff happened.


the end.....of this stuff.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN:  'THE UNWELCOME GUEST'.....Woody Guthrie

     Around the rear of the hotel, in the parking lot, the hot afternoon sun beating down on them, the alcohol worming it's way through their systems, Nick and Natch cruised the lot, looking for that one special junker they could boost for the short ride out to where they were going.

     "Here, just what we fuckin' need.  A hunk of shit, must be ten years old."

     "Ugly.  I'm not sure I wanna' be seen in this shit box."  Natch rapped his knuckles on the hood of the car, saw rust particles dance away, landing on the hot black top.  "Fuck it, let's take it."

     Nick jimmied the door open, hot wired the car, it fired up, blue smoke erupting from the rusted tail pipe, and as the owner was lounging near the pool, his first real vacation, his rusted hulk took off down the road.

     The radio wasn't working in the car, annoying Natch more than somewhat, and since he wasn't driving was fairly bored.

     "We close?  This fuckin' heap a shit is driving me crazy"

     "Yeah, we'll ditch this thing in a bit and walk the rest of the way."  Nick smiled, thinking, what the hell, we got a good fuckin' plan.

     They parked the car three blocks from where they wanted to be, a house,  which was a near the home which containe the Tic.

     They exited the car, Natch very happy to be out of the shit box, Nick grinning at his best friend, knowing how much it drove him fuckin' nuts the radio wasn't working.  They made sure their heat was loaded, the extra clips tucked away in pockets and headed off down the block, Natch tossing the one finger salute to the rusted out jalopy.

     They hit the street where Benny The Tic lived and stopped about four houses away.  This little mansion had a large hedge around it Nick and Natch shoving their way through the hedge, and waited until it got towards afternoon.

     "Waitin' sucks"

     Long afternoon shadows skidded across the roof tops, trees providing shade from the heat, the day moving slowly towards that late afternoon.  Nick and Natch  pushed their way through the hedge and slowly ambled down the block, heading for their target, that prick, Benny The Tic.  They stopped across the street from the house, and decided this was a good fuckin' spot.

     Pointing at the house in front of them, Natch figured it out.

     "We just bust into this fuckin' house, toss whoever is there into the fuckin' basement and wait till that mother fucker, Benny The Tic, comes out across the street to head over to his mother's for fuckin' Sunday dinner

     Natch gazed up at the house, a fairly large mini mansion, floor to ceiling windows all over the fuckin' place, pretty fuckin' awesome.  A pretty nifty fuckin Benz parked at the curb, two nice somethings, probably Jap shit, in the driveway, Lexus he thought, not sure about that crap.

     They stood at the curb, thinking, well, maybe this asshole has got company, some dipshits visiting him, and maybe there's a ton of fuckin' geeks inside, which could complicate shit more than somewhat.  They both turned at the same time, as the front door across the street opened and what the fuck!, there's that prick, him and his two fuckin' body guards, and they are slowly walking to the curb, where that prick has some big ass, black fuckin' limo parked.

     "Fuck!"

     They both took off, racing across the very wide street, pistols drawn and before the two dick head body guards knew what was happening, they each had nice sized holes in their foreheads.  Benny The Tic reached for his pistol, and as he yanked it out of his jacket, Natch fired, the slug ripping across Benny The Tic's arm, a shot fired, the pistol dropping, a slug exiting, which somehow found it's way to Nick's leg, slicing a pretty nice chunk of skin away, he could feel the warmth of his own blood as he stumbled.  Natch fired again, the shot entering Benny The Tic's chest, exploding his heart and he fell backward, just as his front door opened and out pops the screaming crazy assed wife of the now recently departed Benny The Tic.

     'BENNY!  BENNNNNNYYY!"

     "Shut her up."  Nick on the ground, his hands wrapped around his bleeding leg.  Natch aimed, fired, the bullet entering her big fuckin' mouth, tumbled around and exited through her right ear.  She collapsed to the ground, her big floppy feet kickin' in a last spasm.

     Natch ran to one of the body guards, pumped another shot into the bastard, then bent over and ripped his shirt apart, which he then used to wrap Nick's bleeding leg.

     Natch dragged Nick across the street.  He smashed the glass on the pretty snappy Benz, tossed Nick inside, opened the door, and using his own means, fired up the car and they took off.  In the distance, the wail of police sirens; one of the ton of fuckin' geeks stood at the door and watched the Benz take off.

     They ditched the snappy Benz about four blocks from the hotel.

     Natch called a fairly important guy in the trash business up north, told him the tale and the fairly important guy in the trash business up north hooked them up with a doctor not too far away, a guy who patched up Nick as best he could, the three martini's he had with lunch, or FOR lunch not doing him any favors.

     That night two tickets were purchased for AMTRAK, the train leaving fairly soon, Nick and Natch got one of them rooms who can get on a fuckin train, the night passing by okay, dinner, a drink, another drink, sleep as best they could and sometime the next day they arrived up north. 

      It was fuckin' raining.

    

    

CHAPTER TWELVE:  THE BIG FUCKIN' PLAN

     They were back at the hotel, near the pool, the sun dappling off the crystal water, sunglasses hiding their eyes, shirts off, some fruity drink with a fuckin' umbrella in sweaty hands.

     Natch told Nick the plan, Nick smiled thinking it just might work.

     "We know the prick goes to his mother's for dinner every Sunday.  We don't know what the fuck time he goes, when the fuck he goes, other than it's Sunday."

     "Yeah, so that's the plan, we do what we gotta' do what I said and we wait for him."  Natch smiled, the plan was solid fuckin' gold.

     "We take him out right in the fuckin' street, his douche bag wife right next to him."

     "That's how it rolls.  Sorry lady, but we gotta' plant a few slugs into your ever lovin', seeing as he tried his very best to choke the Old Man to death.  And we start blasting, put a few fuckin' holes in the prick, sorta' like fucking air conditioning"  Natch was tapping his fingers on the frosted glass of the table.

     "He's gonna be short a few ticks when we get done with him."  Natch took a sip of his fruity drink, made a face.

     "Yeah, he ticked his last tock, fuck him."

     They signaled for another round of drinks, Nick pinches the cute ass of the waitress, who gave him the evil eye, which shortly brought the hotel manager to their table.

     "Mind of I have a word, fellas?"  He looked pretty good, nice suit and tie, what the fuck, sneakers?  His dark hair was combed straight back, a slight  recess in the hair line, brown eyes and a glued on fuckin' smile, which after a few seconds steamed up Natch pretty more than somewhat.

     In normal situations the Hotel Manager would probably be asked to take a seat, but this was hardly anything normal.

     "What's on your mind, Jose?"

     "It's Joseph, Joseph."  A silence.  "The cocktail waitress said one of you fellas might have pinched her rear end."

     "Nobody likes a fuckin' stoolie."

      "Be that as it may, please, fellas, hotel policy is designed to preclude these types of events."

     "Whatever the fuck preclude is, we don't give a rats ass about no fuckin' policy, unless it's one we are runnin'."  Nick smiled, took a sip of his umbrella adorned drink.  "And these drinks suck."

     "They are on the house, and thanks for your cooperation."

     "Hit the fuckin' road, Jose, before we get ourselves steamed up, your dippy fuckin' smilin' face is already got me annoyed."  Natch took a sizeable slurp of his umbrella adorned drink.  "This is shit and you shouldn't charge for this crap anyway"

     "So, if ya' don't fuckin' mind, why not drive those fruity sneakers of yours outta' my sight."

     "Thanks again for your cooperation."  The Hotel Manager, wiping sweat from his brow, turned and headed back to wherever the fuck Hotel Managers hang out when they are not annoying peaceable citizens having a nice fruity fuckin' drink at the pool.

      Where he went was the hotel security office.  He stepped inside, told his Chief of Security about the two barbarians at the pool and please do your very best to find a workable excuse to toss both of them out of the hotel.

     Yeah, right.

Chapter Eleven:  I'M IN MIAMI, BITCH.....LMFAO


     "Holy Shit, it's fuckin' hot."

     "That's why they got them fuckin' beaches down here."  Nick scanned the area, looking for a taxi.  Finding one, he flagged the guy down, they climbed inside, tossing the bags into the trunk, and the cab took off, heading towards South Beach.

     As the cab rolled down the main drag, passing one pastel colored hotel after another, Nick and Natch wide eyed, taking it all in.

     "Looks like fruit city down here, what with all the fruity colors and them fuckin' buildings and all."

     "It don't matter, we gonna' meet this guy, grab what we gotta' grab and then we head over to the classy part of this fuckin' town, where our hotel is at."



    The guy they had to meet, to grab what they gotta' grab, was a local semi involved guy, with a fairly good reputation as a guy who can be counted on to do the right things in all respects, especially with respects to knives and pistols and whatnot.  Jackie "The Nose" knows guns, spent a lot of time in the Army, and spent his time now hustling guns to people who may not want to spend some time down at the gun store filling out the fuckin' paperwork for them background checks they got now.

     Jackie "The Nose" spent his days and some of his nights in the lobby of a fairly flea bag hotel, sometimes at the bar, always with the newspaper opened to the racing form.

     Oh yeah, The Nose.  Well the nose was fairly large, Durante type schnozola, with red racing stripes down the nostrils, the effects of maybe one too many Cuba Libres in the afternoons.  But he was known far and wide as the guy to see if you wanted some firepower to toss a few hundred slugs around to settle a long term beef.

     A fairly important guy in the trash business up North knew of Jackie "The Nose", and touted him to Nick and Natch, since carrying heat on an airplane was pretty much frowned on these days.

     They exited the cab, paid the driver, who thought, can't get this schmo's outta' my cab fast enough.  Nick parked the bags in the lobby of the hotel and off they went in search of the guy, Jackie "The Nose", to let them grab what they gotta' grab.

        "No fuckin' wise cracks about his fuckin' nose.  That guy up North told me about his fuckin' nose, so no fuckin' jokes."

     "Well, he should be easy to spot, since.....Fuck!, looka' that nozzle!"

     "Quiet!"

     There, sitting in the lobby of the flea bag hotel, a newspaper folded on his lap, was the big nose, red racing stripes and all, the nose being attached to none other than Jackie "The Nose."

     They approached the nose, then Jackie "The Nose."

     "You Jackie?  Sal, from up North you know Sal, the guy in the trash dodge, Sal?"

     "Follow me."  Jackie "The Nose", stood, smooth out his pants, tosses the paper on the chair and leads Nick and Natch to the elevator.

     "You got what we gotta' get?"  Nick thinking, what a fuckin' nose, you could draw fuckin' countries on that nose, what with all them fuckin' lines..  Nick worked hard to look away, eyes Natch who was locked onto the nose, he stare glued.  Nick kicked Natch in the leg, snapping him out of his amazement.

      "Get in." 

     The doors opened, all three stepped inside, the elevator, old, the door slow, the ride up two floors taking for fuckin' ever.

     They walked down a dimly lit hallway, stopped at room 444, Nick thinking, what the fuck, room 444 but this is the second fuckin' floor.

     Jackie "The Nose" using his key, opened the door and Nick and Natch stepped into an armaments warehouse.

     "Holy shit."

     "Fuck."

     "You wanted nine mils, right?"

     "Yeah."

     "Follow me."  Jackie "The Nose", moved across the room, opened a door where perhaps a bedroom might have been, but is instead a showroom of firepower, pistol section.  Nick thinking, holy shit, and the crap he's got piled up in the other room, fuckin' bazookas, land mines, machine guns, rocket launchers, shit we could really use up North to settle a few beefs and whatnot.  His eyes fell upon the nickel plated pistols, the nine mils.

     "Nice selection."  Natch thinking, shit, he's got more guns than the fuckin' shoe store got fuckin' shoes.
    

     They each picked two, got extra clips, a phone call was made, money was wire transferred and Nick and Natch, fully armed to the teeth and ready for their little adventure, left the hotel, snatching up their bags.



     Bags, guns and Nick and Natch were dropped off in front off a pretty snazzy hotel, the bellboys lugging the suitcases to the front desk, large type tips being bandied about.  They got their room keys, sent the luggage up, tipping again, smiles all about, stopped at the bar, Grey Goose, rocks, lemon wedge, the elevator up to their room.

     Sipping their drinks, the bar tender not too happy they left with the nice bar glassware, but the twenty slapped on the bar calmed down his nerves more than somewhat.

     "Let's figure out what we gotta' figure out so we don't fuck this up."  Nick sat in an easy chair, legs propped up on the big bed.  He gazed at his drink, thinking, nice fuckin' glass, got some heft to it, a guy could get plenty used to this shit.

     Natch had settled down by the window, looking down at the swimming pool, the bikinis at the swimming pool, he turned to Nick.  "There's very fuckable babes down stairs at the pool, why not we take a few hours see if we can hose a few of them?"

     "Later.  We gotta' do this job, clip that prick, then we got time for whatever else we wanna' do, Joseph says take a few days off."  Nice sip of the ice cold Vodka sliding down his throat, Nick smiled, watching Natch return to looking down at the fabulous bikini's and the babes filling them out so nicely.

      "Lemme' tell ya something, Nick, they got babes up the ying yang down there at the fuckin' pool.  Natch sipped his drink, the Vodka, cold and nice, sliding across his tongue.

     "Drink up, we gotta' ride."

      Natch turned, Nick stood, gulped down his drink, snatched up the room keys and headed out of the room, walking towards the elevator.  They arrive, push the fuckin button, wait, and a honey of a girl arrives with a runt of a dog in her arms.

     Did I mention she was stunning, slinky dress, deep dark blue eyes, pouty lips, red fuckin' lipstick, and wooza a set of knockers to knock your socks off?

      "Hey, what's that, some kinda' fuckin' rat?"

     "You two clowns just sneak across the border?"  She turned away form them, ignoring them both.  A deep, I am offended sigh.

      "My friend is sorry."

     "He is sorry.  Now, why don't you two, ahem, gentlemen, go back to whatever you were doing, pounding each other I assume, and leave me alone."

      "Nice fuckin' mouth you got on ya, babe."  Natch, smiling.

     "Drop dead.  Tell your moms, if you in fact have moms, not to send you out to play with the adults anymore."  She turned away and walked back towards her hotel room, the dog over her shoulder, snarling at Nick and Natch.

     "Hey lady, maybe you wanna' I throw that fuckin' mutt out the window?"

     She enters her room, the door slams shut.

     "What gives with her?"  Natch turns facing Nick as the elevator arrives.

     "She's prolly one a them dildo swinging dike bitches."

     "Well, I got a real life fuckin' dildo for her."

     Two well dressed businessmen in the elevator were somewhat aghast at the language of the two "gents" entering.  The door closed, the two businessmen move two steps away form Nick and Natch.

     "Nice fuckin' day."  Natch nods to one of the men.

     "You fellas guests here?"

     "What's with you, you some kinda' jerkoff?  Off course we are guests, we paid out fuckin' money and yeah, ass wipe, we are guests.

     "Probably not a good fuckin' idea to steam up my friend here.  Maybe you two douche bags shut up and get off the fuckin' elevator art the next fuckin' floor."  Nick punches the button for the next floor, the elevator stops, the two businessmen get off, six, not the lobby, not anywhere near the fuckin' lobby, but off they get.  The doors close.

     "What the fuck kinda' town is this?"  Nick thinking, when we do this job, when it's fuckin' over, we head back to the hotel and that pool.  Maybe we find that bitch with the pet rat.

  

    They climb into a cab, both sliding into the air conditioning.

     "Some fuckin' town you fuckin' got here."

     "Excuse me sir?"  The driver, not 100 percent sure of his two passengers, and the thought occurred to him, shit maybe I don't get paid, these guys gamooks, don't look too solid.

      "It's like they got some fuckin' attitude, what with the snappy answers and shit."

      "Not sure what you mean, sirs."  Are we there yet?

      "No fuckin problem, just fuckin' drive."  Natch looking out the window as they hit the very nice area, big houses, large slices of property, swimming pools, gleaming luxury cars scattered about.

      "This is the block sirs."  Please, I'll slow down, you can jump out, don't worry about paying me, just get the hell outta' my cab.

     "Do not stop this hunk of shit cab, just slow down."  Nick had the address and as they passed the house, there's the fuckin' house, he watched, he looked, Natch watched, looked.  "Ok, lets get outta' here."

      "Where to sirs?"  Shit, they ain't leaving,

     "Back to the fuckin' hotel, and listen keep your fuckin mouth shit where we went, what we did, you got that Raul?"  Nick looking at the driver's hack license.

     "Yeah, forget we was here, forget where we went, we don't wanna come back here and throw you through a nice shinny window, you got that?"  Natch smiled, the whole big fuckin plan was coming together as he sat and watched the scenery roll by.


NEXT:  CHAPTER TWELVE:  THE BIG FUCKIN' PLAN.

Chapter Ten:  MIAMI BOUND

     Natch was driving, the highway not too crowded, it was past rush hour in the morning and he was thinking, fuck, who drives this fuckin' road in rush hour, they gotta' be fuckin' outta' their minds.  He reached for the radio, but his hand was grabbed by Nick.

     "No fuckin' radio.  That shit you listen to gives me fuckin' migraines."

     "It ain't shit, it's fuckin poetry.  Urban poetry, you know, not like they used to have in the old days, when those faggy folk singers crooned about peace and what not.  This is real shit, authentic."

     "Real shit, right, right."  Nick looked up and saw the exit sign for the airport.  "Hey, we gotta' get off, two miles to the fuckin' airport."

     "Yeah, then I gotta' ditch this car, boostin it from the doctors office was a good fuckin idea, what with people waitin' five fuckin' hours to see the quack anyway, sick assholes lined up for miles in the waitin' room."

     "We might get back before the dipshit knows it's gone."

     "Ain't this some shit, we are goin' to fuckin' Miami.  I hear they got babes up the ying yang down there, you gotta' be a fuckin' retard you don't get miles of pussy down there."

     "We got a little business to attend to first.  Imagine that, Benny, the fuckin' Tic, tryin' his very best to clip the Old Man, sending that elevator freak Patsy Shoes up here to do it."

     "Well, Patsy Shoes ain't exactly winnin' no gold fuckin' medals, his dive offa' that fuckin' roof was maybe a five outta' ten, he's wavin' his arms like a fuckin' helicopter."

     "There's the exit."

     They pulled off the highway, entered the airport, found long term parking, Natch saying it's long fuckin' term alright.  Natch wiped the car down, can't be too careful, what with this D&A shit all over the place, he thought, smiling at Nick who was watching a pretty snappy stewardess wiggle her cute ass, dragging one of them rolling suitcases towards the terminal.

     "Man, I could pop that right now."

     "Wait till we get on the fuckin' plane. Besides, I read someplace about this club they got, you get fucked in the bathroom of a plane, it's supposed to be a big fuckin' deal.  I think when you get done plowing this bitch, they give you some kinda' medal or shit like that....them wings maybe."

     Dragging their suitcases, they entered the terminal building.  Looking around they spotted the airline they wanted and whattaya' know, there's that cute ass wigglin' stewardess.  Natch pokes Nick.

     "Looka' that ass.  Awesome."

     Loraine had worked for the airline about two years, always the same, at the check in counter, and she had thought she had seen everything. Loraine was cute, twenty six years old, dark hair and dark, some would say, black eyes, a big smile what with that red lipstick which drove Natch fuckin' crazy.

     She looked up and saw the two guys heading her way, both dressed in killer pleated slacks, open at the neck shirts, and each now wearing a gold crucifix on a gold chain around their necks.

     "What, did we merge with MAFIA AIRLINES over night?"

     Large smiles from both as they stood in front of her counter.

     "Can I help you?"

     "You sure can honey, you wanna' go someplace?"

     "Hell is too crowded right now.  Were you, ahem, gentlemen, flying with us today?"  Please, just say you're lost, looking for the men's room.

     "Yeah, lady, we headin' for Miami.  You got a fuckin' flight goin' there in a while."

     Fuckin' flight, she thought, a fuckin' flight?

     "Yes, flight 444, departing in two hours.  You have tickets?"  Please say no.

      "Yeah, you wanna' join us down there, I hear they got beaches and shit like that."  Natch gave her the big grin, and flexed his right arm, the muscles rippling in his shirt sleeve, thinking, she don't like lookin' at that, she's gotta' be one a them lesbos.

     Maybe, she thought, they are with the circus.

     "Bags?"

     They tossed their luggage on the scale, Loraine typed in the stuff she needed to type, hoping she would finish as quickly as possible, that one, the short one, looks criminally insane.  Natch was tapping his fingers on the counter, Nick elbowed him.

     Boarding passes were printed, the bags tagged and with large smiles, they waved goodbye to Loraine and headed for the gate and security.

     "I think she wanted me."  Natch poked Nick in the ribs.

     "No doubt."



     The plane was about half full.  Most folks who had been unlucky enough to sit near Nick and Natch were able to change seats the very second the f-bombs began.

     Megan Douglas and Jennifer Logan had been stewardesses for this airline for about ten years and they had, they thought, seen everything.  From people terrified of flying who managed to terrify the entire plane, to people drunk out of their minds who wanted to Cha-Cha their way across America.  They were both somewhat surprised, and very much wrong, as Nick and Natch entered the plane and plunked themselves down in First Class.

     "Nice fuckin' seats they got here."

     "Yeah, looka' they got a fuckin' TV screen built right into the fuckin seat."  Natch busied himself pushing the buttons on the TV, not realizing nothing was going to happen until they took off.  "Fuckin' thing don't work."

     Megan approached the two men, her eyes full of the slicked down hair, the open shirts, thinking, Oh Christ, hoodlums.

     "Excuse me, but this is first class."

     "And we are a couple of first class fuckin' guys.  How ya' doin' honey?"  Nick smiled at Megan thinking, hey, she's fuckin' hot.

     Megan smiled, took a step back, thinking these guys must be fugitives form some B Movie."

     "Er, not for nothin', but this fuckin' TV don't fuckin' work."  Natch thinking, maybe they gotta' change our seats. 

     Megan thinking, I gotta' get off this plane.

     "Can I see your tickets, er, gentlemen?"  Please, please be on the wrong flight.

     "Yeah, sure babe.  Nick reaches into his pocket and pulls out the folded, wrinkled ticket, handing it to Megan who takes it daintily with two fingers.  Shit, she thought, this is the correct flight.  But wait, these are not first class tickets, hurray!

     "I'm sorry sirs, but your seats are towards the rear of the plane, not up here."  Maybe next to the emergency door, which with any luck would pop open over North Carolina.

     "What?  What the Hell, we can't sit here, you're fuckin' kiddin' right, this is a joke or something?"  Nick grinned his best grin at Megan who took another step back.  Jennifer hearing the noise, walks over.

     "Is there a problem?"  Oops, what have we here, are we running lunatics for the government on this flight?

     "No problem cuties, this honey over here, she says we're in the wrong fuckin' seats."

     People getting on the plane were beginning to pile up behind the blocked first class aisle.  A lot of "ahems" and "excuse me's" were bandied about.

     "Yes sirs, you are.  This is the first class section of the plane, you have to purchase these tickets, they cost more, a lot more."  Maybe they have no more money and maybe they'll slither down to the rear of the plane.

     "Shit honey, why didn't ya fuckin' say so?"  Nick reaches for his wallet and begins peeling off one hundred dollar bills, one after another, a big happy smile, knowing, shit, this honey ain't never seen nothin' like this.  I bet I pop her once we got to fuckin' Miami or maybe I hose her in the bathroom.

     "Sir, please, we cannot handle the transaction this way."  Please, let it all be counterfeit, then we can call the cops.

     "What, you want a fuckin' credit card, well, why didn't ya' say so babe."  Nick pokes Natch in the ribs.  "Give this here honey one of our credit fuckin' cards."

     "Here ya' go doll-face, just run a fuckin tab for us, and hey, whattaya' we gotta' do to get a fuckin' drink around here?"

     The stolen credit card was processed, the two travelers upgraded to first class and more or less, the flight more or less was uneventful.

     Natch tried his very best to get Megan to join him in the bathroom, had to stop when the pilot threatened to have him arrested when they landed in Miami, Natch taking great umbrage at this turn of events.

     "So, why they got this club about fuckin' in the bathroom if you can't fuck in the bathroom?"

     Nick actually spent some time chatting it up with Jennifer, who was somewhat inquisitive of those two guys and thinking, he does have a pretty nice body, and maybe my whole outlook in men is wrong.  She shook her head, what, are you crazy?


next:  Chapter Eleven:  ''I"M IN MIAMI, BITCH'......LMFAO

    

Chapter Nine:  'I FALL TO PIECES'.....Patsy Cline

     Patsy Shoes arrived in the Big City thinking this big city is bigger than my own big city, a guy could make a fortune over here tossin' shit heads through all them windows.  He was pretty much correct, but the job, for the most part, of straightening out large beefs had already been nicely taken by two young fellas, namely Nick and Natch and they had no general idea of an early retirement.  Had it gotten that far Patsy Shoes would have done his very best to introduce them to his piano wires or to a very high building.

     Patsy Shoes learned from Benny The Tic, that the Old Man lived in some secluded spot, what with a gate and stuff, hard to get into, backing up to a large water as it did.  The spot, of course, was Silver Shores and by this time the Old Man had semi-retired, Mom was gone, and he was spending his time in the house, Joseph visiting on a regular basis.

     Patsy Shoes had an uncle, Jimmy The Sailor, in that Jimmy The Sailor was at one time in the United States Navy, doing very well for himself until he threw his commanding officer off a very large boat.  Luckily for Jimmy The Sailor, the commanding officer was quite adapt at this swimming thing, and was rapidly noticed by another officer type guy and rescued.  Jimmy The Sailor explained that the commanding officer was a wrong guy and not very nice and deserved being tossed overboard.  The United States Navy had several disagreements with Jimmy The Sailor's logic and after a short while tossed him into the brig.

       Often times, after Jimmy The Sailor was "graduated" from both the brig and the United States Navy, he would take Patsy (no shoes yet) for boat rides, Jimmy The Sailor doing fairly well in the trash business, owning a pretty nifty boat.  Patsy (no shoes yet) was impressed with how well Jimmy The Sailor handled the boat and especially loved the idea that Jimmy The Sailor would often let Patsy (no shoes yet) drive the boat.  This all changed after Jimmy The Sailor got himself and his boat exploded after a pretty serious beef with a fairly important guy in the trash business.

     So, it didn't take much for Patsy Shoes to figure, well if they got a gate at the entrance to this pretty serious place they got, and this serious place backs up against a large water, well, I'll just get myself a boat, thanks to you Uncle  Jimmy The Sailor, may he rest in peace, or pieces, for teaching me the finer points of driving around and about in a boat on a large water.

     After an excellent lunch, Pasta Primavera, a really classy Chianti, Patsy Shoes rented a small twenty foot boat, outboard motor and set sail for the inlet which would take him up the coast a bit to the back side of Silver Shores.  It didn't take Patsy Shoes long to figure out which of the stately mansions belonged to the Old Man, since Benny The Tic had told him what to look for, thanks Benny The Tic, he thought to himself since he was alone.

     Patsy Shoes waited a while, watching the sun set, the day growing dim, thinking hey, it's pretty nice this spot, the sun goes down and you get to see it.

     What Patsy Shoes didn't see was Nick and Natch parked in front of the Old Man's house, waiting to take Joseph to a fairly large sit down with some fairly large guys from the West Coast.  These fairly large guy from the West Coast came highly recommended to all, known far and wide as straight shooters, serious men who always made money for their partners, which in this case would be Joseph and his partners, all fairly large players in the trash business on the East Coast.

     Joseph sat with the Old Man, a glass of strong Borolo between them, Joseph abstaining knowing the evening might contain large quantities of wine, heavy food, and he needed to keep his head together.

     "I did my homework, these fellas are what they say."

     "You believe this deal is good for the family, all the families?"

     "Yes.  We can make a lot of money, they can move a-....did you hear that?"

     Joseph stood.

     Natch turned the corner, moving around the side of the house, he always liked the fuckin' sunsets, and stopped inhis tracks.

     "What the fuck?!"

     Patsy Shoes, piano wires jangling at his side, patting his pistol inside his jacket, moved slowly form the large water towards the house, his eyes glued to the sliding glass doors.

     Natch picked up his phone, speed dialing.  "Get inside, we got company and they ain't bringin'' coffee and fuckin' cake!"

     Nick jumped form the car, sprinted to the front door, kicked it in, this being the noise Joseph heard, and as he turned, pulling his Berretta,  Nick entered the room.

     "We gotta' move!"

     Joseph grabbed the Old Man and together all three hustled out of the house and jumped into Nick's car, JOseph behind the wheel, the Old Man in the back.

     "Get off the island, I'll call when this is over!"

      The car sped away as Nick ran back into the house.

     Natch watched as Patsy Shoes moved slowly to the sliding glass doors at the rear of the house with the commanding view of the large water, thinking ain't this nice.

     "Hello asshole."  Natch sped up behind Patsy Shoes, pressing his forty five to the side of Patsy Shoes' head.

     "Gimme them fuckin' wires, and what else you got."

     Patsy Shoes thought, well maybe I should start blasting away, maybe I can kill this, what kid?, before he knows what the fuck.  It might have been a good idea until Nick slid open the door and stepped outside.

     "Who the fuck are you?"

     "I--"

     "Shut up."  Natch slammed Patsy Shoes in the head with the butt of his pistol, little lights twinkling inside Patsy Shoes, head.  Patsy Shoes looked down, he was a little dizzy, to see his shoes muddy and salt water stained, and it occurred to him, well ain't this some shit.

     Nick removed the piano wires, thinking, holy fuck, he could choke the shit outta' anybody with these fuckin' wires, what else he got?  He found the pistol, took that away, and what commenced was a short, one way question and answer period as both Nick and Natch did their very best to get to the bottom of this fuckin mess.

     Natch found the phone with the special phone number.  Patsy Shoes had been a bit stupid by placing the phone number in his contact list under the heading "Special Number, The Tic"

     They tied Patsy Shoes up and dragged him around front, scuffing his shoes along the way, causing some minor heartburn to Patsy Shoes.

     They called Joseph, who with the Old Man returned.

     The Old Man had heard stories about Patsy Shoes, and lately about Patsy Shoes tossing guys out of windows of very tall buildings.

     Joseph grabbed the phone, dialed the "special number, The Tic", and listened to Benny The Tic, say, hello, is the job done?  Joseph smiled and hung up.

     Two hours later, a very tied up Patsy Shoes was tossed into an elevator of a very tall building by Nick and Natch.

     Shortly thereafter, Patsy Shoes made a very big impression on the sidewalk of the Big City.

Chapter Eight:  NOT SO FUNNY

     The day they wacked Freddy Nocoscia, his brother, Benny, Benny "The Tic", naturally because of his twitch, his eyes winking, was under a truck getting ready to change the oil.  He heard the chitter chatter on the radio, then he didn't hear anything.  Benny, Benny The Tic, one eye winking like a pop up toaster, slid out from under the truck and walked over to the radio in dispatch.

     His idiot cousin, Patsy, sat next to the radio, his eyes glazed over, thinking, hmmm, I should be in fuckin' Bermuda right now.

     "Patsy, what's goin' on with the truck and the cops over there?"  Looka' this jerkoff, he don't know what the fuck I'm talkin' about.  Benny the tic ticking right now more than somewhat, snatched the radio off the desk.

     "Base to Freddy, come in Freddy.  Silence.  A tic, a tic.

     "Come back Freddy, where you at?"  More silence.  A tic, a tic, a tic.

     Benny sorta' turned around, looking outside as two cars rolled up to the front gate, smashed through the gate and started to head towards the office.  Benny might have been ticking, but he was no dummy.

     "Fuck."  Benny threw the radio mike to the desk and took off, sprinting out the back door just as three guys (whom you met earlier) entered the front door.  The three guys just busy from eliminating Freddy, figured, lets while we're at it, plant a few slugs into Benny as well.

     They shot the idiot cousin, Patsy, nobody else around and they figured, well, Benny might be a tic but he ain't no fuckin' dummy.

     Benny took off, made it to the bus depot in the city, got himself a ticket to the first bus anywhere, that anywhere being Miami, Florida and away he went.  Maybe I'll catch a tan down there as I hear they got great tanning spots what with the beaches and shit like that, he thought as the bus pulled out of the depot.

     Some guy sat in the seat behind him had one of them transistor radios, which for a while annoyed Benny The Tic and he was thinking as the bus rolled down the highway, maybe I turn around and choke this guy.  Shortly, however, the news came on and Benny The Tic heard about the big mob rub out in the garbage business.

     Benny The Tic decided I ain't gonna' choke that guy, he done me a large favor, playing that fuckin' radio.  Benny, The Tic, sitting on the bus, thinking about Freddy, thinking about the business that just went up in smoke, and thinking about, well, thinking about getting himself set up down in this Miami place, start a trash  thing, and one day, when things settle down, I'll be back fellas and we'll see what we'll see.

     By the time that happened, and it did happy very nicely for Benny The Tic, growing up a pretty nice garbage hauling thing in and around Miami, things had changed more than somewhat "up there."  Since by the time that happened, Joseph was starting to run things "up there".  It occurred to Benny The Tic that the old man might be aging up and getting ready to drive himself to the big landfill in the sky, and thinking that way made Benny The Tic decide, well, the old bastard might need a shove into the fuckin' landfill.

     Benny The Tic had made quite a few interesting friends down in that Miami, many of which were persona non grata in many other places, especially in the northern climes.  He had a very favorite restaurant he went to every day, except Heaven Forbid, Sundays and he usually ate a fine lunch, pasta, and he sat with some of these personas non grata mostly form the northern climes.

     On this particular day, over a tasty bowl of Linguini with White Clam sauce with one of those personas, he was visiting an interesting fella, a guy named Patsy Shoes, being he always wore shoes which were brightly spit shined, neither rain, nor snow, nor whatever stopping the high spit shine.  Patsy Shoes bent over his bowl  of Ziti with Garlic and Oil, one of his all time favorites, and Christ, he thought, they can't make it down here like they do "up there".

     Patsy Shoes was down here since "up there" had become very hot indeed, not weather hot, but hot in that several fairly important guys in the trash business had decided that Patsy Shoes need new shoes, those new shoes being crafted with cement.  Back in the day, "up there", someplace in the Midwest, Patsy Shoes was known far and wide as a guy very handy with a gun or a piano wire and had created a nice living for himself with the gun or piano wire.

     One day Patsy Shoes had his shoes off, as a matter of fact, had all his clothing off and was showing his erect member to the ever lovin' doll face of a fairly important guy in the trash business in the Midwest.  Word of this large insult got around, how nobody is quite sure, but it caused Patsy Shoes to think, well, the Winter's up here ain't so good for my shoes what with the snow and sleet and perhaps guys tossin' slugs into me, me drippin' blood on my shoes.  He did all this thinking the very next day and that night was riding a bus, two suitcases of shoes packed, heading for Miami.

     It wasn't long before Patsy Shoes meet up with Benny The Tic, as Benny The Tic, from time to time had the need for a guy with special talents, a guy like Patsy Shoes, although by the time they met, Patsy Shoes had the reputation as the guy who liked to throw undesirables through windows of very tall buildings, of which there were many to be had.  Patsy Shoes like standing at the broken window watching the prick fall down to earth, splashing across the pavement, later the body collected with a large ink blotter, which Patsy Shoes, a man of some letters, found satisfying.

     Benny The Tic inquired how things were shaping up with Patsy Shoes and Patsy Shoes remarked, well things have slowed down more than somewhat, it seems a man of my special skills is in low demand right now, what with peace breaking out all around and about with the various organizations which mostly inquired about my services.  I can still tune a guy up for you, Benny (The Tic never spoken to his face) should the need arise, as I have retained my piano wires and keep them well rosined.  This line of conversation struck Benny The Tic as something he might look into, and the more he thought about it, the more it seemed to him, this Patsy Shoes fella might be the right guy to go and shove the Old Man into a much deserved grave.

      As they finished their meals, the deal was made and Patsy Shoes left the next day, heading towards a little, ahem, meeting with the Old Man.

     "Call me when it's done, here's my special phone number."

     Huge mistake, Benny The Tic, huge.