POSTCARDS FROM DESOLATION ROW or FEAR AND LOATHING IN DELPENN

The steel door slams shut and I take a big breath of air, ahh, freedom once again. Where the hell is bentnose, I want to get as far from this dump as I possibly can. It’s been awhile inside and it’s time to start looking up some old friends and settling some old scores.

I still can’t believe that ‘chief and roys actually pressed charges, where is their sense of humor or at least irony. It was only about $56G’s that me and shadow ran up on their credit cards after we lifted them and it wasn’t even their convertible we liberated for our trip to the SPA to cover the Travelers for the BTB in ’01. So what if we were escorted out of the joint by track security and they never got the story, it was only a few bucks, but, leave it in the hands of the shysters, and that crooked judge and off I went on vacation for a few years. I mean that’s the gratitude I get for rescuing the Equinics torch from that pawn shop in Oxnard, they didn’t know me and shadow were the ones who hocked it, or a couple of years later, me and bentnose and a few friends foiling those dumb Vikings from stealing the torch on the staten island ferry, yeah, that’s the gratitude we got. I mean the “veuve noir” thing was a joke, well, I thought it was a joke anyway and we never really got caught with the race fixes, but, water under the bridge as they say.

What’s with all that horn honking, yesh, it’s bentnose, well it’s about friggin time he showed up. Hey, nice ride, buddy, even has MD plates in my honor, where did you get the Bentley? Bentnose lets out a big smile and says, I got it in the Carolinas, some jagoff doctor left the motor running outside of the local bookies clip joint, so I helped myself and left him a broken down pinto in exchange, I thought the MD plates were a nice touch but I wonder what the AFC stands for. We make our way to the open road and I ask bentnose if he got all the stuff I asked for. Sure he says, we are set for a nice drive and he’s smiling just like he was just before he whacked Whoops Apocolypse in the ankle with that tire iron. Let’s check the inventory, let’s see, a ½ pound of hydro and an electric bong, a few 8balls of bolivian marching powder, some primo Oklahoma meth in case we get a little tired, a case of Crown, a case of Thunderbird, a cooler full of Shiner, a couple of bottles of vicodin and oxycotin to guarantee feeling no pain, some mushrooms to insure a bit of surrealism, the St Chris medal for good luck, the radar detector, the 9mm and shotgun incase we run into any terrorists and the secret cash stash from the ceiling panels in the mens room at the port authority bus terminal in times square. Yep, we are ready willing and able.

Bentnose tells me he has a message from ‘Chief, she says she told the parole board that she would give me a job and we have to go to Delaware, Pennsy and Jersey to cover something called DPCD and if I don’t file a story she will violate my parole. What the hell is DPCD I ask bentnose. He tells me it’s a big day of racing sponsored by some of our old buddies who have gone legit. Oh my god! Those miscreants have gone legit! What a damn shame! How are the old buds doing I ask bentnose. Well, sal is in witness protection after the whole Lacassa Pizza imbroglio, rev was born again, labreche is mia, mano moved in with the broad from Vermont, MO is still around being a typical jersey jerk and if you can believe it, nobody has whacked raider yet, but he is going on his 7th or 8th wife so he is suffering more than if he was pushing up daisies. He tells me stretch is doing ok, at least he visited me in the joint, too bad they found the file he hid in the salami and sent him to Chi town in the middle of the winter. They have a bunch of new characters there and they are almost as interesting as those who shall remain nameless. There is a new mob over there called ARSE, but they can’t seem to get out of each others way and they even have a chick in the gang. TA still thinks the commies are coming for him and some numbnutz called sdmf who walks around with a guitar neck up his you know what, but he has a hot babe, so I’m sure she’s probably the brains in that duo. There is a chump from Texas named fats who runs all the poker games in the jocks rooms and cheats the little sob’s and then lends them money at 100% plus the vig. Husker still thinks Nebraska football matters and TS is trying to infiltrate the Iraqi navy and become an admiral. Some guy named jake tried to start a new mob called the peanut butter sandwiches but some twist named barb made him go home and do his homework. Toppy is still a class act, but don’t turn your back, she’ll litigate you to death. They got another new gang trying a new racket called the supers, yeah super my butt, all talk no action blowhards. There is even a guy named knightmare, he skims off the top from inflated stud fees of stallions you never heard of and put out 3 legged ponies with no tails. And of course that big time PITA, kingab is still around breaking chops and pulling muscle for the big, big boss, testcase.

Wait a minute, what the H E double hockeysticks are we doing? This doesn’t sound like fun at all. Let’s stop at an internet café and we’ll email ‘Chief this drivel and call it atmosphere, and take off for sunny Mexico. I had a friend inside hack billgulch’s computer and get all his credit and personal info, and since he has more money than god, we should be good for a week or two in sunnier climes. After that we’ll find a new scam, off we go bentnose, the world is our oyster. Here is a little tom waits tune to remember us by:

Well, I’m a jitterbug boy
by the shoe-shine
resting on my laurels
and my Hardys too
life of Riley on a swing shift
gears follow my drift
Once upon a time I was
in show-biz too

I seen the Brooklyn Dodgers
playin at Ebbets Field
seen the Kentucky Derby too
it’s fast women, slow horses, I’m reliable sources
and I’m holding up a lamp post
if you want to know
I seen the Wabash Cannonball,
buddy, I’ve done it all

beause I slept with the lions
and Marilyn Monroe
had breakfast in the eye
of a hurricane
fought Rocky Marciano,
played Minnesota Fats
burned hundred-dollar bills,

I eaten Mulligan stew
got drunk with Louis Armstrong
what’s that old song?
I taught Mickey Mantle
everything that he knows

and so you ask me
what I’m doing here
holding up a lamp post
flippin this quarter,
trying to make up my mind
and if it’s heads I’ll go to
Tennessee, and tails I’ll buy a drink
if it lands on the edge
I’ll keep talking to you