“25 dollars,” the clerk of Stu’s Knick Knacks said. He
was one of those dirty haggler types.
“25 dollars? These shoes better send me to the moon and
then jack me off under the table. Fuck that. I’ll give you 15,” responded
Titus.
Titus Baccus, or Tit as his friends would call him, was a
22-year-old ne’er do-gooder, still looking for purpose in his life. He got so
hooked on making fast money working for Vincenzo at the market, he never
thought twice about going back to school. But what Tit really wanted was
adventure. Because, let’s face it, Ithaca, New York is as exciting as watching
a Lifetime made-for-TV movie.
“20,” the clerk shot back.
“18.”
“Sold!”
“Why the hell you want them ugly ass shoes for, Tit?”
asked Chris, Tit’s best friend and coworker. If Chris wasn’t left-handed, he’d
never get laid. He wipes his ass with his right hand.
Chris and Tit met when they both started working for
Vincenzo five years ago. They were an odd pair, really. Tit, though he wasn’t a
jock, still had the physique that attracted the female student body. His dark
hair and youthful face always made the girls double take; even his teachers. A
true Greek god in the flesh. And he took advantage of this. Chris was tall, but
portly, if ever a combination. Though he wasn’t the ugliest cat in school, he still
depended on Tit to catch the plethora of vaj that fell out of his pockets.
“Man, what are you talking about? No one has these shoes.
They’re definitely fly.”
“No one has them because no one wants them,” Chris joked
as the guys walked back to Vicenzo’s next door.
Tit couldn’t stop admiring the shiny maroon shoes with
the gold wings emblem on the heels. Tit loved anything flashy, anything that
would make his peacock persona extra flashy. He just couldn’t escape the want
to be in the spotlight during high school, but now he was content being another
face in the crowd. Yet, he still needed that sensation of spotlight.
“What you boys doing to me, huh? Get back to the fuckin’
stand, will ya!” Vincenzo scolded. Vincenzo owned Vito’s Meats and Deli every since his
father passed it on to him more than 40 years ago. His father passed it on to
him 30 years before that. And his father opened it up back in the 1920s after
moving from Ellis Island. He was the first to open an Italian owned deli in
Ithaca. Yet, he didn’t meet this feat unchallenged. Back then, the Dutch were
still trying to lay claim to most of upstate New York, but with the immigration
boom, the melting pot was spilling over.
“Vinny, cool it man,” replied Tit as he and Chris walked
back into the deli. Tit put the shoes under the counter and went back to
tending the line that had started queuing towards the door. Chris manned the
meat slicer and gave Gil a shitfaced grin.
“You fuckers took forever! I’m too new for all this
shit,” Gil gruffed. Gil was three weeks deep in the job. Tit put in a word
for the almost 30-something –year-old town punk. Tit chatted with Gil every
time he saw him around the market place looking for an unattended purse. After
attempting to lift Tit’s neighbor’s purse during a cheese pick up at the deli,
Tit suggested Gil work for Vicenzo’s and earn some honest money. He’d have all
the free sandwiches he could eat, too.
“You lazy fuck. Get back to the Munster,” Chris shot
back. Chris always gave Gil shit because he felt he was above Gil in the
societal totem pole. And because he was younger, it felt good to him to be able
to scrape the likes of Gil from his shoes, the way the kids in high school had
done him.
“How ‘bout I show you what I learned to do with this cheese
slicer today? On your scrotum,” Gil answered holding up the device with a
smile.
“You boys, no more dicking around, you hear? I got a drop
to make, so don’t make me come back to the place falling apart, or I’ll burn
all your asses,” commanded Vincenzo. “Especially you Gilliam, you retarded
fuck.”
“Sir, yes, sir,” patronized Gil.
The day went by just as any normal Ithaca afternoon;
uneventful. No hot girls looking for honey ham, no horny housewives wanting
their rumps glazed, only middle-aged bums wanting a quick roast beef sandwich
with extra cornhash on their lunch breaks. What made it worst was the gloomy
overcast that sat on the town like the mood that always took over.
Vincenzo returned from his drop cold and without
muttering a word, which was uncommon for him. He always had something to
complain about. You wouldn’t catch a day without him chewing one of the boys’
asses. But the boys didn’t pay him any mind. It was a nice change for a change.
As the lunch crowd started thinning out, Tit pulled the shoes from under the
counter and tried them on. They fit perfectly, but made him look like a clown
with his bright green sleeveless shirt that exposed the definition in his
triceps.
“You look like a fuckin’ tranny,” joked Gil.
“That’s funny, that’s what your moms said before she
fucked me in the ass,” Chris retorted, defending Tit.
“Dude, that was gay in so many ways,” replied Gil.
“That was pretty homo, but fuck the both of you. These
shoes are fresh, man,” said Tit.
Bursting through the door, making the copper bell crash
to the floor, came three stubby goombas in heavy leather jackets. Everyone in
town knew these three very well, the town wise guys. “Where the fuck is he?”
asked the short one with a Napoleon complex.
“Uh, you mean, Mr…Mr. Vincenzo?” stuttered Chris, shaken
by the sight of the three angry men.
“No. The fuckin’ toof fairy. Whaddaya think?” answered
the tallest one.
Without another word, the three boys pointed the three
men towards the back of the deli, towards Vincenzo’s office where Vincenzo had
marched in to about an hour ago when he lurked in silently. “Thanks. Now fix me
a fuckin’ spicy sausage on rye with extra Parmesan, you lil’ bastards,” ordered
the third man in a high-pitched voice. “And keep it warm. This might take a
while.”
The boys watched in fright as the men hurriedly marched
to Vincenzo’s office. POP! POP! PARARARA-POP! The boys ducked behind the
counter, some leftover patrons darted for the door, and an old man reading the
newspaper fell backwards in his chair and couldn’t get up from snapping his
shoulder. The rest of the deli customers froze in terror.
“What the fuck was that?” whispered Chris through his
teeth.
“We need to call the cops,” Tit whispered back. They waited a few seconds, which felt like hours, for
someone to come back from the back office.
“Come back you fuck,” cried the short wise guy as the office
door opened. Vincenzo came running around the counter, pushing the
boys aside, looking for the sharpest knives. The boys crouched in a corner and watched
in shock Back and forth between Vincenzo and his office door. Vicenzo grabbed a
few knives and threw them like darts towards his office door. He caught the
short wise guy in the heart. The squeaky voiced one got it in the larynx. Both
dropped dead instantly.
The tall wise guy appeared in at the bottom of the
doorway, pulling himself along like a wounded soldier over his pals’ boodies.
He lifted his gun and aimed for Vincenzo. POP! POP-POP-POP-POP! He got Vincenzo
in the right shoulder, spinning him around. But no blood appeared. It was as if
his body absorbed the bullets. He ripped off his butcher’s apron and pulled out
a 9mm with a silencer. SOOT. SOOT. SOOT-SOOT. Vincenzo walked towards the man
and shot at the same time, catching him four times evenly between the eyes.
Gil pushed Tit and Chris out the way and hurdled over the
counter. Tit and Chris followed suit, except that Chris took longer before
crashing down onto the floor. A glint of light caught Vincenzo’s eye when he looked
up from the corpse; the emblem from Tit’s shoes.
“There they are,” he muttered to himself. “Hey! Get back
here!” he shouted after the boys. Gil was ahead of the other two, but started
losing ground. Chris was further behind Tit, who was running at light speed.
Faster than he’d ever run. Tit could feel the adrenaline consuming his muscles
as he caught up to Gil. DINK. DINK. Two bullets caught the garbage cans ahead
of them. The boys quickly cut a right one after the other. This time Gil was
much slower and it took all Chris had to get in line with him. Tit was far up
ahead, out of reach.
He cut through an alley, hopped on top of a dumpster, and
leaped over the fence as swiftly as a hurdler. But he never landed back down on
pavement. He was feeling such a rush, and his legs were still rotating in
motion, that he didn’t realize he was flying. Gil stopped, staring dumbfounded
up at Tit. Chris didn’t stop but kept his eyes on Tit, as well, until he ran
into the dumpster.
“What in the fuck, Tit!?” Chris yelled up, sitting on his
ass.
Tit looked back to see if his friends were keeping up
when he noticed the faded Coca-Cola Classic advertisement high up on a brick
building at eye level. Feeling the wind on his face, he looked down and noticed
he was five stories above the street. “Holy shit!” Tit freaked out. He stopped
moving his legs but he was still flying. He tried to gain some equilibrium as
if waterskiing.
Chris snapped back into it, jumped the fence, and ran
after Tit with one eye on the street for anything else that would knock him on
his ass. Gil remained behind still in awe. “Tit, what the fuck is going on?”
Chris screamed up.
“I ..I dunno, man. Don’t lose me,” Tit squeezed out from
his tightened throat.
Leveling off at about eight stories, Tit floated away, over
Stewart Park and out of town towards the woods. As Chris lost momentum, Tit
became a spec in his sight.
