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About the Author: Jack Bristow's work has most recently been published in The Saturday Evening Post and The Santa Fe New Mexican. Follow him @RealJackBristow.
The trouble is, I got indicted for selling smack. Actually, I wasn’t the one pushing. This kid, named Enrique Henderson, was selling the horse, and he was paying me protection money for it all the while. Now the boss, Mr. Spirochete, he really frowns on the selling of narcotics, you know? He had started an edict—you deal, you die. Two behind the ear, just like that.
In addition to Mr. Spirochete’s wrath, I was also facing a heavy prison sentence: Fifty years behind bars, if convicted.
The thing is, I’d have gladly done my time. I’d have gladly taken my lumps like a champion but I know the boss, the head honcho, Mr. Spirochete, would’ve had me whacked anyway—even if he had to have somebody behind bars do the deed to me.
I had no other choice that day; I turned state’s evidence. I gave Mr. Rockwell, my proposed FBI handler, a jingle. I told him yes, I would absolutely be interested in testifying against the old man, Mr. Spirochete. The most ruthless La Cosa Nostra boss in New York City.
“Great,” Mr. Rockwell tells me, via the telephone. “Come to our offices on Friday the sixth; we’ll discuss your new identity then, Mr. Graffingnare.”
Friday the 6th. That’s two weeks away. A long frigging time, when you’ve got a blood-thirsty mafia clan on your hide. So I decided to rent this here house, in upstate New York. I am renting it from this long-haired looking hippy peacenik, some stinking baby boomer communist.
Great voice!
Well, shit. I didn’t feel like chewing the fat with these two wimpy-looking fellows. Sorry even the Mormons are more believable than this guy.
News flash, "Harley": The term "Fellas" has been used liberally in underworld nonfiction books for years now. Listen to any transcript of street guys' voices and you'll see they talk this way. You have to remember this is a family magazine, so the author undoubtedly had to add a few euphemisms here and there--like "stinking"--which may have made the ex-mobster seem less authentic.
I liked it. I thought it was amusing. I read for entertainment value.
I enjoyed the story but, probably because I'm reading it on a desk top, the text was so wide across the screen I was pushed away rather than drawn in and had to argue with my eyes to get them to read
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