Find Big Fat Fanny Fast (18 page)

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Authors: Joe Bruno,Cecelia Maruffi Mogilansky,Sherry Granader

Tags: #Humour

BOOK: Find Big Fat Fanny Fast
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Tony B slammed his hand on the table. Glasses and dishes shook. He said in a loud whisper, “Will you be freakin' quiet!”

Skinny Benny turned the page of the notebook to a new sheet of paper. He scribbled something, then passed the notebook around until it got to Tony B.

Tony B read the note:
“This is bullshit!”

Tony B, turned to a fresh sheet, wrote something, then flipped the notebook across the table at Skinny Benny.

Skinny Benny caught the notebook against his chest, then read the note:
“I have proof. Someone we know caught him in the act.”

Skinny Benny turned to a fresh sheet of paper and wrote,
“Bring that person to me.
” He flung the notebook across the table to Tony B.

Tony B caught it in his right hand. He read the note, turned to a fresh sheet, then wrote:
“I anticipated you saying that. Later on, I'll take you to the witness. Then we gotta do what we gotta do.”

He flipped the notebook across the table back to Skinny Benny.

Skinny Benny caught the notebook, read the note, nodded and flipped the note book back to Tony B. “Whatever you say boss.”

Tony B caught the notebook and ripped out the pages that had been written on. He handed the pages to Big Fat Fanny, then whispered in her ear, “Get rid of these, will ya?”

Big Fat Fanny rolled the sheets of paper into a ball. She dipped the paper ball into the Italian meat sauce, then shoved the paper ball into her mouth. A few bites and a huge swallow, and the papers were gone for good.

“Now what are we having for dinner?” Big Fat Fanny said. “I'm starting to get hungry.”

*****

It was a bright sunny afternoon and Yuan Dum Fuk sat on a park bench in Columbus Park facing Mulberry Street, a prodigious knife tucked into its sheathe, wedged under his belt and covered by his black leather jacket. He was reading a Chinese newspaper, upside down, figuring no
lo fan
would know which side was up, or which side was down on a Chinese newspaper anyway.

Three benches away, Peggy Soo sat feeding peanuts, with the shells still on, to the pigeons. She gigged as she watched the pigeons pecking frantically away and getting nothing but busted beaks. She had her purse slung over her shoulder, with a small 25-caliber pistol tucked safely inside. Her red Camaro was parked just outside the park on Mulberry Street near Bayard, with the door open and keys in the ignition, so they could make a quick getaway.

It was lunchtime and the park was packed with people who worked in the Criminal Courts Building located on the Baxter Street side of the park. Milling about were office workers, cops, court officers, assistant district attorneys and a few judges. Some were eating their brown-bagged lunches. Others were just sitting on the benches, relaxing and letting the sun warm their faces. A group of old Chinese woman stood in a circle in front of the old Park House near Bayard practicing kung foo exercises.

In minutes, Yuan Dum Fuk spotted Junior walking a huge German Shepard in the softball field. He was heading right towards him. He watched as Junior used a baggie to pick up the dog's poop and shove it into a white plastic grocery bag. The bag seems ready to burst.

Yuan Dum Fuk whistled to get Peggy Soo's attention. She stopped feeding the pigeons, spotted Junior and nodded to Yuan Dum Fuk.

Junior exited the softball field, with Brutus leading the way, and headed towards where Yuan Dum Fuk was sitting. Junior nodded curtly to Yuan
Dum
Fuk as he passed him, never suspecting anything could happen; not at this time of the day, with the park teeming with people, some of them cops and court officers who carried guns.

As soon as Junior was halfway between Yuan Dum Fuk and Peggy Soo, Yuan Dum Fuk pulled out his knife and charged at Junior, whose back was turned to him. Junior spun around and Yuan Dum Fuk sliced at Junior's face with the knife. Junior jumped back to avoid the knife. He let go of the leash and flung the bag of crap right into Yuan Dum Fuk's face. The bag exploded on impact, covering Yuan Dum Fuk's face, neck and chest with the residue of Brutus' healthy lunch.

An instant latter, Peggy Soo leaped from the park bench and reached for the gun in her purse. Before she could draw it, Brutus jumped on her chest, knocking her to the concrete pavement. The gun slid several feet away.

By this time, Junior had Yuan Dum Fuk pinned to the floor, and with both fists, was using Yuan Dum Fuk's face as a pinata. Blood and dog feces sprayed in all direction, some dotting Junior's dungaree pants and blue cotton shirt.

While Brutus was occupying Peggy Soo's attention with his teeth, an old Chinese man riding a bicycle drove by. He stopped, bent down, picked up Peggy Soo's gun and cycled right out of the park and into oblivion.

In seconds, about a dozen cops and court officers surrounded the combatants. One uniformed cop used a half-a-ham sandwich to con Brutus off Peggy Soo, which Brutus eagerly devoured. Two other uniformed cops pulled Junior off Yuan Dum Fuk. The Chinaman scrambled to his feet, stained and not smelling too sweetly. Junior had a slight odor problem himself.

“What the hell's going on here?” a burley Irish-looking cop said.

Junior turned to the cop, whom he knew was on his father's payroll. “Nothing, just a friendly disagreement among friends.”

“So no one wants to press any charges?” the cop said.

“Not me,” Junior said.

The cop turned to Yuan Dum Fuk. “How about you? You want to press any charges?”

“No charges,” Yuan Dum Fuk said. “I just want to go home and clean up. No smell too good.”

The cop turned to Peggy Soo, who was wiping the blood off her hands with a paper towel. “You feel the same way?”

“No charges,” she said. “I've had enough of this park anyway. I want to get into my car and go home.”

“All right,” the cop said. “Now all of you, clear out of here.”

Junior grabbed Brutus' leash, and Peggy Soo and Yuan Dum Fuk headed towards her red Camaro a hundred feet away.

As Junior turned and headed towards the softball field, the cop grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. “Tell Tony B I'll see him tomorrow.”

“I'm sure you will,” Junior said.

With Brutus leading the way, Junior strode into the softball field towards his apartment in Chatham Green a few blocks away.

Peggy Soo and Yuan Dum Fuk were fifty feet from her red Camaro, when two black teenagers jumped into her car. The driver hit the ignition, put the car in gear and burnt rubber out of the parking sport. He sped past the red light on the corner of Bayard and headed north on Mulberry Street.

Peggy Soo and Yuan Dum Fuk ran as fast as they could after the car, knocking over anyone and anything in their way. As luck would have it, there was no traffic on Mulberry Street, usually a clogged artery of cars, and trucks making deliveries. The Camaro reached the corner of Canal in no time. It made a right on a red light and headed towards the Manhattan Bridge, a few short blocks away.

Nearly out of breath, Peggy Soo and Yuan Dum Fuk reached the corner of Canal. They stood transfixed as they watched the Camaro weave in and out of heavy traffic, it's horn blaring like a fire engine, past red lights, across the Bowery and finally disappearing onto the lower ramp of the Manhattan Bridge.

“Don't worry, you got insurance, right?” Yuan Dum Fuk said.

“Yeah, I got insurance alright,” Peggy Soo said. “But I don't think it'll cover the five thousand dollars in cash and the two pounds of pot that I had hidden in the trunk.”

Yuan Dum Fuk tried to put his arm around her shoulder to console her.

She jumped back. “Don't touch me! You smell like shit!”

He withdrew his arm. “How do we explain this to the boss?”

“Explain what to the boss? That was my pot and my five thousand bucks. The boss has nothing to do with it.”

“No, I mean, what just happened with Junior.”

“Don't worry. You'll think of something.”

Peggy Soo abruptly turned her back on Yuan Dum Fuk, then strode away, leaving him standing there smelling like a cesspool.

 

CHAPTER 16

Gang War

 

It was 4 am and a tipsy Nicky Knuckles sat in a booth facing the front door of Dave's Corner, an old-fashioned diner on the corner of Broadway and Canal. He was sipping coffee between sniffles, caused by all the coke he had shoved up his nose earlier that night.

Dave's Corner had been a New York City institution for many years. Besides 24-hour inside seating, Dave's Corner had an outside service counter on the Broadway side, that served late night drunks and cabbies looking for a bite to eat before, or after they went on duty.

Nicky heard the front door open and in walked Tony B, Junior and Skinny Benny, all three half in the bag themselves. Nicky waved them over to his booth.

“Slide over, I'm sitting next to you,” Junior said.

Nicky did as he was told. Tony B sat opposite Nicky and Skinny Benny sat next to Tony B.

A young, voluptuous black waitress, with a rack big enough to serve dinner on, came over to their table. She was wearing a hearing aide in one ear and she spoke louder than normal. “Menus, Gentlemen?”

“Nah, no menus,” Tony B said. “We're stuffed from before. Just bring us coffee and keep filling up our cups.”

“Yes gentlemen,” the waitress said. She smiled and sashayed toward the kitchen in the back.

Four sets of eyes followed the rotation of her rear end, until she disappeared into the kitchen.

“Madone, what a pair of jugs on that Tutsoon,” Nicky said.

Junior elbowed Nicky in the ribs. “Don't be cabbadost. The poor girl's half deaf.”

“Yeah,” Tony B said. “Stop being stounad. Show some manners around here.”

Skinny Benny shrugged his shoulders. “But she does have some knockout body.”

Tony B put his forefinger to his lips. “Shush, she on the way.”

The waitress, carrying a huge tray, stopped at their table. She placed a cup of coffee in front of each of the four men, then put a large pot of coffee and a sugar shaker in the middle of the table. “Will there be anything else gentlemen?”

Nickey smiled. “How do you know we're gentlemen?”

The waitress smiled. “Because I have a big gun in the kitchen in case you aren't gentlemen.”

That said, she did an about-face and headed back towards the kitchen. Four sets of eyes followed her again.

Tony B took a sip of coffee. “Alright, let's get down to business.” He stared right into Nicky's eyes. “Tell Skinny here what you saw there in the Village.”

Nicky looked timidly at Skinny Benny. “Look. I don't like being a rat or nothin', but I saw what I saw.”

Skinny Benny's eyes narrowed. “Go on.”

Nicky wiped his nose with a handkerchief. “I was walking on Greenwich Street two nights ago. looking for this bar that I heard had some hot chicks. Looking to get made and laid.” He smiled like a loon. “You know what I mean.”

“Forget the broads,” Tony B said. “Get to the point.”

Nicky pulled out a handkerchief from his pants pocket and blew his nose. He wiped his nose twice, then put the hanky back into his pants pocket. “So I'm walking past this parking lot on Greenwich Street. When the back of this daisy-train trailer pops open and out jumps Crappy, holding hands with a blond twink maybe twenty years old.”

Skinny Benny leaned across the table and stuck his forefinger in Nicky's chest. “You know what you're sayin' here, right? Bad things could happen to good people if you're freakin' wrong about this.”

Nickey sniffled. “I know what I saw. I ain't blind and I ain't stupid.”

Tony B snickered. “Well, one out of two ain't bad.”

Junior grabbed Nicky's arm and squeezed. “Nicky, you're high right now. And I know you must have been high two nights ago. So think very carefully. Are you sure it was Crappy you saw? Not someone who looks like Crappy?”

“Nobody looks like Crappy,” Nicky said. “It was him alright.”

Skinny Benny sat back in his seat and folded his arms. “I don't believe this junkie bastard for one second. Crappy's no homo. This kid must have had hallucinations.”

Tony B turned to Junior. “What do you think we should do?”

Junior took a sip of coffee. “I don't know what we should do. I wasn't there with Nicky when he saw, or he thinks he saw Crappy. I think we need further evidence before we can do something serious.”

Tony B nodded. “I was thinking the same thing. I say we get Louis J. Lombago into the act. He has a few private dicks on his pad. Let them tail Crappy for a couple of weeks. If they find out Crappy had been going down on the wrong thing, then we gotta put this degenerate dog down. Nobody can be trusted who gobbles the pole. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” Skinny Benny said.

Tony B took a sip of coffee. “Now that we are all gathered here, there's something else we have to discuss. There was an attempt on Junior's life by two Chinks in Columbus Park. A guy and a broad. We have to do something about that, or they'll be banging us up the butts forever.”

“Whatever you say boss,” Skinny Benny said. “I'm getting tired of being pushed out of our own  neighborhood by those slanty-eyed bastards.”

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