I hope nunnayuz think I'm puttin' this here so you'll forget about the 0-3 record I had today in my return to the handicapping arena. But hey, any diversion is welcomed.
REFLECTIONS FROM INSIDE THE CAN
According to Louis Zafortune, attorney for the accused (howya dooin??), both the state of Oregon and the federal authorities have been keeping a fairly constant eye on my big beefy ass for the better part of the last two years. Lou?s theory is that there?s some big sting operation in the works. A squeeze play, if you will, aimed at some of the more influential West Coast wiseguys. You know the routine, lotsa heat anda lotta press. No, not on the wheels, but on a buncha dumbass bastids what they figure might know more than they oughtta. Are ya with me?
Anyway, once you find your suckers, you lean on ?em. Hard. Make ?em uncomfortable, see? Circumfuse ?em with cynicism and innuendo. Put their name in the paper in the most unflattering ways. You know, like driving under the influence, or as a person of interest in a prostitution bust. And once ya start leanin?, you don?t never let ?em breathe, neither. Every time ya talk to the stooge you say crap like ?how?s the old ball and chain?? Or ?I?ll bet you?d look sharp wearin? stripes,? or some other stale bitta witless charm. In other words, ya make the guy?s life a living hell, okay? You let ?em know that you have the power to alter their way of living ? drastically. And if they don?t play ball, that?s exactly what you?ll do.
As the theory goes, much of the evidence to be used against the bosses is gathered from hundredsa small-time pissants what figure to sing like freakin? Sinatra in order to avoid the fine accommodations available in our Federal Penal System. Acourse, that was Lou?s theory and, well, don?t get me wrong, Lou?s a nice fella, ya dig? He has got one helluva lascivious and bold young wife, too, by the way. I think her name is Melanie, but everybody just calls her Baby. She?s like 25 and brother she will flirt yer shirt off, ya see what I?m sayin?
Hold on a sec ? where the hell was I, anyway? Oh yeah. Lou?s a nice guy and all, but he ain?t to be taken seriously, ya follow? In fact, the man?s an idiot. Leastwise, that?s what I was thinkin? until I recognized one small thing. The suits downtown were suddenly ridin? me like I was a carousel filly. The lousy bums musta made me for one of the biggest chumps of all. A lame brained nobody what associates with known criminals. A good for nuthin? slimeball staggering on both sidesa the fence between legal and illegal activities. They saw my business and family as nothin? more than a facade. Christ! Why did Zafortune hafta finally be right ?this? time?
Fellas, I swear to yuz, them sunsabitches are dead wrong about me. You can ask anybody! Unholycow is no slimeball, understand? Not even close! I don?t cheat nobody. I don?t hurt nobody. I love and provide for my family and I earn an honest living. And the part about where the hell it is that I stagger, uh, well, that ain?t quite so clear cut. If?n yuz catch my drift.
Sorry boys, but that?ll have to do ?er for now. I think the only reason this piece a shit computer I?m usin? ain?t any slower is because if it was it wouldn?t be able to crash! (check yer inbox, Prospector) Anyway, believe me, I?ll be workin? all the angles to start getting? this stuff to ya sooner, okay? Tryta bear with me. I?ll track down my old meth dealer if I have to, ya savvy?
A LETTER NOT SENT
This was found in the spiral, I think the date was April 17th.
Dear Jack,
Sorry about pullin? a Houdini on ya, buddy, but it couldn?t be avoided. Ya see, after I posted that everybody should oughtta be on the lookout for Cow?s imminent return, I went over at the Club Flush to unwind. Anyway, I was throwin? back the good stuff and celebrating the close of a horrid tax season, when this uncultured muscle-head starts givin? me grief about this young lady I?d been ?dating? occasionally. Ya follow? He was a big old farm boy, about 28 years old and he was obviously too drunk to reason with.
Poncho, the fat-ass Samoan bouncer shoulda done his damn job and ran the punk, but like most everyone in the joint, I think he was curious to see how I was gunna handle the situation. So, I sat there starin? at this lummox as he called me every four-letter word he could think of and when he finally shuts up to take a breath I says, ?Yo, Adonis! Howsabout I bestow a coupla C-notes upon yer surly ass? D?ya think maybe then you could drop this shit??
He wiped the spittle offa his mug with his flannel shirt sleeve and broke into this giant hillbilly grin. Turnin? his head from side to side, he looked to make sure everybody saw him back me down. ?Make it three hundred,? he slurred, ?and I?ll let your scrawny ass live.?
?Great!? I replied.
So natch, I stood up as to peel off the green and drilled him. Right between his silly, crossed eyes. He fell into one table and I fell into another. Poncho, the bartender anda buncha other guys mobbed in between us, because hey! If that big ****er got up, he?d likely kill me. Ya see what I?m sayin?? I don?t know if he got up or not, though. I mean, I crawled halfway to the door, and when I got up and looked, young Jethro was still on his back.
Two blocks away from the bar, the blue lights appeared in the Caddy?s rearview. And less than forty-five minutes after the punch, I heard the clang of the drunk tank door behind me.
There?s been whispers of assault charges and acourse, a DUI has already been played. My mouthpiece, Louis Zafortune, is tryin? to get the lowdown, man. All I know is I?ve been in here for over twenty-four hours and I still don?t know what?s goin? on. Is that legal? Where?s loophole, anyway?
That?s it. I mean, it?s always somethin?, ain?t it? Tell the fellas I?ll see ?em soon.
Cow
BLURRED
I wrote the boss again the following day. Another letter unsent, it went thusly.
Jack:
I ain?t quite sure what kinda crap I got myself into this time, but its becoming increasingly obvious that it?s deeper than I was initially led to believe. It?s beginning to get crowded in here. The drug dealers and thieves must be invisible, though, ?cause all they?re bringin? in is gamblers. It?s startin? to look like a reunion of the city?s worse horse players, in fact. Gawd, I ain?t seen some of these fellas in twenty years. Whatta depressing bunch.
Zafortune just told me that Snacks has disappeared, but I ain?t worried. Until he knows which way the wind?s blowin? he?s layin? low, that?s all. It?s the smart play. Snacks always makes the smart play.
Lou also informs me that Fat Johnny got pinched again at 5am this morning. Seems he and some other fellas were over at this ritzy country club on the west side, you know, relieving summa the local snobbery of a little cabbage. Hey! Them chumps treat hundreds like they was freakin? pocket change, ya follow? So, a coupla times a year the sharps give ?em some pointers on the art of high-stakes Hold ?Em. Anyway, for the first time in like thirty years, the game gets raided. Lou tells me it?s related to my situation, but I dunno.
I went before the judge this morning on the DUI and the DA?s office had a surprise waiting for me. They beseeched the judge to deny bail, stating my apparent links to an important ongoing investigation.
Lou was completely blindsided by this turn of events. ?What the ?,? was all he said in my defense.
I don?t remember too much after that. I recall words like tax fraud, FBI and felony, but I was having an out-of-body experience. I was dreaming, sorta. It felt like I was floating over the proceedings, unnoticed. Watching some sap what looked like me getting screwed by the system.
WHAP! WHAP! The pounding of the gavel brought me around. ?Bail denied! We?ll have a hearing at 10am on the 2nd. That?s two weeks from today.?
The big picture is still too blurred to make out, Jack, but I?m startin? to feel a frame. If yuz catch my drift.
ONE SIMPLE LINE
I didn?t never actually send Jack nothin?. Yeah, I know I shoulda, but for reasons I won?t go into, I didn?t. And for that I apologize. What I did do was a lotta thinkin?, ya savvy? A whole lotta thinkin?.
By day five of my confinement it was as obvious as a streetwalker that at least summa Lou?s information was legit. I swear, in the spanna forty-eight hours I saw more phony smiles than a Bible Camp photographer, as young government button-men from one agency after another came paradin? in to this conference room at the jailhouse where me and Lou was made to wait. The particulars of their pitches may have been different, but when they got to the bottom-line they all sounded pretty much the same.
?Okay, smartass,? they?d say, no longer bothering to even fake friendliness. ?You are in more trouble than you can imagine. We?ve had you under surveillance for long enough to build quite an impressive file. Blah blah blah blah blah ? but we like you ? blah blah blah ? it isn?t you that we?re after ? blah blah ? it?ll go a lot easier for you if ? blah blah blah ? we can do this the easy way, or the ?
So what did they have on me? I heard everything from parking tickets to preparing fraudulent tax returns and worse, but always with a wink, or a nudge and a promise of leniency. If acourse, I was willing to play ball.
So ya see, I did have a few things to think about, didn?t I? Now, what I?d like you bums to do is to try puttin? a coupla these coins in ?your? slot and see what kinda crap ?your? head kicks out, okay? Granted, it ain?t easy, but I?m tellin? yuz, this is the kinda crap what we oughtta think about more often, ya follow? Not just when the heat?s turned up. Dig.
The question was, how far do loyalties go and who are these loyalties with. Now, I still didn?t know what everybody wanted outta me, but I had to assume it was big. And seein? as I was an old friend of Salvatore Vecchio and was once known to associate with Sal?s right hand man, Joey Tuccarone, I had to figure that that was where this whole thing was eventually leadin?. Great. Ya know what I mean? Just freakin' great.
I?ll tell ya, though, it really didn?t take me much thinkin? at all. I just had to practice sayin? one simple line. After that whatever happens ? happens. Ya see what I?m sayin?? I really didn?t have no choice in the matter. I guess yuz could say my hand had already been played, 'cause as I've said before ... I don't crack wise on friends.
What? Oh yeah. The line went like this.
?Listen up and listen good! I ain?t got nothin? to say to you dirty, stinkin? pigs!?
Acourse, I did several rewrites on the phrase before I actually used it. The version you?d find in the records, if I remember right, went more like ? ?no comment.?
REFLECTIONS FROM INSIDE THE CAN
According to Louis Zafortune, attorney for the accused (howya dooin??), both the state of Oregon and the federal authorities have been keeping a fairly constant eye on my big beefy ass for the better part of the last two years. Lou?s theory is that there?s some big sting operation in the works. A squeeze play, if you will, aimed at some of the more influential West Coast wiseguys. You know the routine, lotsa heat anda lotta press. No, not on the wheels, but on a buncha dumbass bastids what they figure might know more than they oughtta. Are ya with me?
Anyway, once you find your suckers, you lean on ?em. Hard. Make ?em uncomfortable, see? Circumfuse ?em with cynicism and innuendo. Put their name in the paper in the most unflattering ways. You know, like driving under the influence, or as a person of interest in a prostitution bust. And once ya start leanin?, you don?t never let ?em breathe, neither. Every time ya talk to the stooge you say crap like ?how?s the old ball and chain?? Or ?I?ll bet you?d look sharp wearin? stripes,? or some other stale bitta witless charm. In other words, ya make the guy?s life a living hell, okay? You let ?em know that you have the power to alter their way of living ? drastically. And if they don?t play ball, that?s exactly what you?ll do.
As the theory goes, much of the evidence to be used against the bosses is gathered from hundredsa small-time pissants what figure to sing like freakin? Sinatra in order to avoid the fine accommodations available in our Federal Penal System. Acourse, that was Lou?s theory and, well, don?t get me wrong, Lou?s a nice fella, ya dig? He has got one helluva lascivious and bold young wife, too, by the way. I think her name is Melanie, but everybody just calls her Baby. She?s like 25 and brother she will flirt yer shirt off, ya see what I?m sayin?
Hold on a sec ? where the hell was I, anyway? Oh yeah. Lou?s a nice guy and all, but he ain?t to be taken seriously, ya follow? In fact, the man?s an idiot. Leastwise, that?s what I was thinkin? until I recognized one small thing. The suits downtown were suddenly ridin? me like I was a carousel filly. The lousy bums musta made me for one of the biggest chumps of all. A lame brained nobody what associates with known criminals. A good for nuthin? slimeball staggering on both sidesa the fence between legal and illegal activities. They saw my business and family as nothin? more than a facade. Christ! Why did Zafortune hafta finally be right ?this? time?
Fellas, I swear to yuz, them sunsabitches are dead wrong about me. You can ask anybody! Unholycow is no slimeball, understand? Not even close! I don?t cheat nobody. I don?t hurt nobody. I love and provide for my family and I earn an honest living. And the part about where the hell it is that I stagger, uh, well, that ain?t quite so clear cut. If?n yuz catch my drift.
Sorry boys, but that?ll have to do ?er for now. I think the only reason this piece a shit computer I?m usin? ain?t any slower is because if it was it wouldn?t be able to crash! (check yer inbox, Prospector) Anyway, believe me, I?ll be workin? all the angles to start getting? this stuff to ya sooner, okay? Tryta bear with me. I?ll track down my old meth dealer if I have to, ya savvy?
A LETTER NOT SENT
This was found in the spiral, I think the date was April 17th.
Dear Jack,
Sorry about pullin? a Houdini on ya, buddy, but it couldn?t be avoided. Ya see, after I posted that everybody should oughtta be on the lookout for Cow?s imminent return, I went over at the Club Flush to unwind. Anyway, I was throwin? back the good stuff and celebrating the close of a horrid tax season, when this uncultured muscle-head starts givin? me grief about this young lady I?d been ?dating? occasionally. Ya follow? He was a big old farm boy, about 28 years old and he was obviously too drunk to reason with.
Poncho, the fat-ass Samoan bouncer shoulda done his damn job and ran the punk, but like most everyone in the joint, I think he was curious to see how I was gunna handle the situation. So, I sat there starin? at this lummox as he called me every four-letter word he could think of and when he finally shuts up to take a breath I says, ?Yo, Adonis! Howsabout I bestow a coupla C-notes upon yer surly ass? D?ya think maybe then you could drop this shit??
He wiped the spittle offa his mug with his flannel shirt sleeve and broke into this giant hillbilly grin. Turnin? his head from side to side, he looked to make sure everybody saw him back me down. ?Make it three hundred,? he slurred, ?and I?ll let your scrawny ass live.?
?Great!? I replied.
So natch, I stood up as to peel off the green and drilled him. Right between his silly, crossed eyes. He fell into one table and I fell into another. Poncho, the bartender anda buncha other guys mobbed in between us, because hey! If that big ****er got up, he?d likely kill me. Ya see what I?m sayin?? I don?t know if he got up or not, though. I mean, I crawled halfway to the door, and when I got up and looked, young Jethro was still on his back.
Two blocks away from the bar, the blue lights appeared in the Caddy?s rearview. And less than forty-five minutes after the punch, I heard the clang of the drunk tank door behind me.
There?s been whispers of assault charges and acourse, a DUI has already been played. My mouthpiece, Louis Zafortune, is tryin? to get the lowdown, man. All I know is I?ve been in here for over twenty-four hours and I still don?t know what?s goin? on. Is that legal? Where?s loophole, anyway?
That?s it. I mean, it?s always somethin?, ain?t it? Tell the fellas I?ll see ?em soon.
Cow
BLURRED
I wrote the boss again the following day. Another letter unsent, it went thusly.
Jack:
I ain?t quite sure what kinda crap I got myself into this time, but its becoming increasingly obvious that it?s deeper than I was initially led to believe. It?s beginning to get crowded in here. The drug dealers and thieves must be invisible, though, ?cause all they?re bringin? in is gamblers. It?s startin? to look like a reunion of the city?s worse horse players, in fact. Gawd, I ain?t seen some of these fellas in twenty years. Whatta depressing bunch.
Zafortune just told me that Snacks has disappeared, but I ain?t worried. Until he knows which way the wind?s blowin? he?s layin? low, that?s all. It?s the smart play. Snacks always makes the smart play.
Lou also informs me that Fat Johnny got pinched again at 5am this morning. Seems he and some other fellas were over at this ritzy country club on the west side, you know, relieving summa the local snobbery of a little cabbage. Hey! Them chumps treat hundreds like they was freakin? pocket change, ya follow? So, a coupla times a year the sharps give ?em some pointers on the art of high-stakes Hold ?Em. Anyway, for the first time in like thirty years, the game gets raided. Lou tells me it?s related to my situation, but I dunno.
I went before the judge this morning on the DUI and the DA?s office had a surprise waiting for me. They beseeched the judge to deny bail, stating my apparent links to an important ongoing investigation.
Lou was completely blindsided by this turn of events. ?What the ?,? was all he said in my defense.
I don?t remember too much after that. I recall words like tax fraud, FBI and felony, but I was having an out-of-body experience. I was dreaming, sorta. It felt like I was floating over the proceedings, unnoticed. Watching some sap what looked like me getting screwed by the system.
WHAP! WHAP! The pounding of the gavel brought me around. ?Bail denied! We?ll have a hearing at 10am on the 2nd. That?s two weeks from today.?
The big picture is still too blurred to make out, Jack, but I?m startin? to feel a frame. If yuz catch my drift.
ONE SIMPLE LINE
I didn?t never actually send Jack nothin?. Yeah, I know I shoulda, but for reasons I won?t go into, I didn?t. And for that I apologize. What I did do was a lotta thinkin?, ya savvy? A whole lotta thinkin?.
By day five of my confinement it was as obvious as a streetwalker that at least summa Lou?s information was legit. I swear, in the spanna forty-eight hours I saw more phony smiles than a Bible Camp photographer, as young government button-men from one agency after another came paradin? in to this conference room at the jailhouse where me and Lou was made to wait. The particulars of their pitches may have been different, but when they got to the bottom-line they all sounded pretty much the same.
?Okay, smartass,? they?d say, no longer bothering to even fake friendliness. ?You are in more trouble than you can imagine. We?ve had you under surveillance for long enough to build quite an impressive file. Blah blah blah blah blah ? but we like you ? blah blah blah ? it isn?t you that we?re after ? blah blah ? it?ll go a lot easier for you if ? blah blah blah ? we can do this the easy way, or the ?
So what did they have on me? I heard everything from parking tickets to preparing fraudulent tax returns and worse, but always with a wink, or a nudge and a promise of leniency. If acourse, I was willing to play ball.
So ya see, I did have a few things to think about, didn?t I? Now, what I?d like you bums to do is to try puttin? a coupla these coins in ?your? slot and see what kinda crap ?your? head kicks out, okay? Granted, it ain?t easy, but I?m tellin? yuz, this is the kinda crap what we oughtta think about more often, ya follow? Not just when the heat?s turned up. Dig.
The question was, how far do loyalties go and who are these loyalties with. Now, I still didn?t know what everybody wanted outta me, but I had to assume it was big. And seein? as I was an old friend of Salvatore Vecchio and was once known to associate with Sal?s right hand man, Joey Tuccarone, I had to figure that that was where this whole thing was eventually leadin?. Great. Ya know what I mean? Just freakin' great.
I?ll tell ya, though, it really didn?t take me much thinkin? at all. I just had to practice sayin? one simple line. After that whatever happens ? happens. Ya see what I?m sayin?? I really didn?t have no choice in the matter. I guess yuz could say my hand had already been played, 'cause as I've said before ... I don't crack wise on friends.
What? Oh yeah. The line went like this.
?Listen up and listen good! I ain?t got nothin? to say to you dirty, stinkin? pigs!?
Acourse, I did several rewrites on the phrase before I actually used it. The version you?d find in the records, if I remember right, went more like ? ?no comment.?
