New Joint

Newest addition to the Outlaw.  This movement brings me to the 100 page mark! Sweet!
The next night, Louie got home from the casino at two in the morning and didn’t feel like making dinner so he flipped through his catalogue of takeout menus.

Wan Fu Wok. Not open this late.

Thai Thai. Too Spicy.

Finally he found the menu for Mangiano’s and picked up his phone to order. A snotty woman’s voice answered.

“Mangianos.”

“Yeah I wanna order for delivery.”

“Delivery car’s in the shop. You’ll have to do pickup.”

Louie tisked.

“Fine.”

“What can I get ya?”

“I want a large deep dish half sausage half mushroom and a 2 liter bottle of Diet Zap.”
“That’ll be 17.50, cash or charge?”

“Cash.”

“Pickup in one hour.”

“K.”

“Thank you for choosing Mangianos, the finest 24 hour Italian eatery in town.”

Louie hung up the phone and then laid himself out on the couch, which squeaked beneath his girth. The springs of the old furniture were stretched to their limit. Slowly but surely Louie had been gaining weight since he’d taken to ordering delivery three times a week. It wasn’t that he was too lazy to cook his own meals, he just never happened to be in the mood to do it anymore. After a few minutes on the couch, Louie started to sweat and his jogging pants clung to his thighs, and to the small of his back. The ceiling fan stirred around the warm air in vain. Louie wiped his forehead and brushed back his black hair from his eyes. He turned on the TV and flipped from station to station, pausing for only a few seconds before moving on.

A tele-novella was on the Spanish channel. You know, the ones that all have the same baritone narrator and the women with enormous breasts. Louie thought about rubbing one out, but wasn’t really in the mood. Click.

The next channel had a game show on. Some poor kid was stammering, trying to think of an answer, meanwhile the clock was ticking down. “Uuuuummmmm.” The kid shook his head and looked like he was about to cry when… Click.

Louie stopped on a station where a serial killer was stalking the shadows of a sorority house. A skimpy brunette was slowly shuffling down the stairs to the basement, calling out below to the darkness. “Hello?” She was shaking as she gripped the handrail and eased herself downward. The musical score took on an eerie pitch and she called again. “Is anyone down here?”

“Stupid bitch. You’re already dead. Just get it over with.” Louie grumbled and was about the change the channel again when the music jumped and a black cat ran out from the shadows. The brunette threw up her hands and screamed as the feline bounded past her up the stairs. “Jesus. What a tease.”

Something crashed in Louie’s kitchen. It sounded like glass breaking.

“Da fuck?”

Louie narrowed his eyes and stared down the hallway, but couldn’t see anything. He looked back at the TV and estimated that if he got up now he’d probably miss the obligatory stabbing, but oh well. The couch’s springs cried in euphoric release as Louie lifted himself up and walked to the kitchen. On the floor he found a framed photograph lying face down. Louie bent down and picked it up, then turned it over. Three smiling faces looked up at him. His mom was wearing a red dress and matching lipstick and beaming like Rudolph on somebody’s front lawn during winter. He was only nine years old when it was taken and his buckteeth showed prominently with his smile. He remembered fighting his mom tooth and nail about wearing “that retard gray vest” for the family picture, but now he nodded and agreed that it looked good on him. Of course at the time, his dad made him wear it. His dad. That was the sound. A crack had formed in the glass and cut across his father’s frame, chopping his three-piece pinstriped suit in half. His dad. He had black eyes and was bald except in patches around the back of his gigantic head. Leonardo Spatelli towered over both his wife and his son. Louie looked again into his dead father’s black eyes and then put the picture back up on its nail on the wall.

Louie shuddered a little bit and dreaded having to go to sleep in a few hours time. He lit a cigarette and felt a calm wash over him; his muscles relaxed and he went to the bathroom then returned to the couch. On an empty stomach an hour seems like a week. When it was finally time to go, Louie brushed the ashes that had collected on his clothes and got his car keys. It was only a half-mile drive to Mangiano’s but there were stoplights at the end of every block.

Louie pulled to a stop at a red light and watched a lone woman sitting at the bus stop. She was short and obese and wearing a short orange skirt and long pink stockings. She was shaking all over and eating ice cream directly from a two-quart bucket. There were several shopping bags lying on either side of her on the bench. She seemed to be worried someone would take them because every four seconds she glanced away from her ice cream and checked on them to make sure they were all still there. A shiver went up Louie’s spine and he was relieved when the light turned green.

There were a bunch of fast-food restaurants on the same block as Mangianos. The burger and fries joint, then the sub sandwich place, then Gary’s Chicken Shack. The salty aroma of fried chicken hit Louie’s nostrils and for a moment he wished that he’d gone there for dinner, instead. Too late now. On the roof of Gary’s there were half a dozen American flags whipping in the gentle breeze. Their white stars and stripes were illuminated by the huge ad sign, which read:

50 pieces for 41.99

100 for 79.99

Not bad, Louie shrugged. Should a person ever need a hundred pieces of chicken, it didn’t sound like a bad deal. Louie got to Mangiano’s and parked then went in and picked up his pizza. Steam was rising from the little slits on the side and the cardboard was warm in his hand. When he came back outside he set the pizza on the roof of the car and then got in and turned the key in the ignition.

That’s when he saw his father’s ghost sitting next to him in the passenger’s seat.

Leo Spatelli was dead, pale, transparent, and dead. He turned towards his son and looked at him with his black eyes. His lips hung open and a frosty air escaped from them as he spoke.

“Hey.”

Louie screamed.

“AHHHHH!”

He jumped out of the car and ran away. He sprinted faster and harder than he ever had in his life; even harder than the quarter mile dash in 9^th grade gym class. Sheer terror drove his legs to push on even though they were burning after just a few seconds. Finally Louie lost his breath and bent over at the waist, he supported himself by placing his hands on his knees, and he gasped and whined.

“Can’t be. Didn’t happen. I’m just seeing things, is all. That’s all it is.”

He repeated these words over and over until he almost believed them. After several minutes of wheezing, he stood up again and dusted himself off. Louie eventually worked up enough courage to walk back to his car. Only this time, he came around from the alley and snuck up on his Buick from behind. Not unlike the brunette in the horror movie from earlier, he crept up slowly, stepping gingerly across the lot, trying not to make a sound. When he reached his car he saw that the ghost was still there. Gusts of breath came out of its mouth, filling the car with frigid air. Louie crouched down and walked around to the driver’s side where the door was still hanging open. Carefully, he pulled himself up and grabbed his pizza and began to step back from the car, slowly. The ghost heard his feet on the blacktop and turned to him again.

“Hey.”

Louie screamed again.

“AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!”

He dropped his pizza and booked it all the way back to his apartment and slammed the door shut behind him. Louie leaned his back on the door and gasped for air, pressing his hand against his chest, feeling his heart racing inside of him. He had almost caught his breath again when there was a knock on the door. Trembling, Louie pried himself up and looked into the peephole. His father’s ghost was floating up and down the hall, carrying his pizza.

“C’mon don’t be such a wuss. Ya act like ya never seen a ghost before.”

“I haven’t seen a ghost before and I ain’t seein one now! You’re dead. You’re supposed to be dead!”

“Sharp as a tack this one. Yeah. I’m dead. What’s it to you? Now let me in, I gotta talk to ya.”

“What? You can’t just glide right through walls like Casper or somethin?”

“No, wiseass. I can’t glide through walls.”

“Then how am I supposed to believe you’re a ghost? I’m supposed to just let you in here? Are you fuckin nuts?”

“Who said anything about believing? You got eyes, don’t ya? Come on! I’m floating and all white and shit ova here. And I’m gonna haunt the shit out of you if ya don’t let me in right now.”

Whatever it was, it was either the best impressionist in the world, or it was definitely Louie’s father. Louie unlatched the locks on his door and pulled it open. The ghost hovered into the apartment and smirked.

“Boo.” Louie flinched and his father snickered then dropped the pizza box onto the table with a thud. “Ya forgot your pizza back there.”

“Yeah, yeah whatever. What do you want?”

“Right to the point, huh? No small talk for your old man?”

“I’m a little freaked out for that right now.”

The ghost nodded and opened the pizza box and took a slice out then stuffed his face.

“Boy do I miss that. Don’t get pizza where I’m at now.”

“And where is that?”

“I ain’t allowed to talk about it.”

“What a jip.”

“Hey, it’s the rules. What are ya gonna do?”

“Why are you here?”

“Sangue per sangue, mi figlio.”

“Huh?”

“Jesus Christ, a little culture. Blood for blood. Revenge. Vendetta. Et Cetera.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The guy that did me. He’s still walkin around in the sunshine breathin fresh air. Why is that? I gotta rot in a grave and this asshole is still breathin? That ain’t right.”

“You want me to kill Jimmy Jenks?”

“Fuckin A right. It’s tradition. When your grandfather got popped I was just a kid, but I still did what had to be done. I hunted the guy down in some shithole in the Bronx. What are you doin? Sittin around here, watchin TV, eatin junk food, screaming like a little girl over a few bad dreams? What the hell is that?”

“I ain’t you! This is what ya come back for? To give me a hard time?”

“I’m just sayin. You gotta remember where you come from. Ya know what I mean?”

“How am I supposed to kill the guy? I don’t know where he is! I don’t even know what he looks like. And besides, I heard he’s like invisible or some shit. You know how many guys have tried to take him out?”

“It’s invincible, Louie and he ain’t. He’s just flesh and blood. Like you, or like I used to be. You cut him the right way and he’ll bleed, believe me. You gotta do this.”

“I wouldn’t even know where to get started.”

“Jenks got outta the joint a couple days ago. He’s on his way up north, now. He should be coming through here in a few days.”

“He’s comin here?”

“That’s right. You ain’t even gotta track him down.”

Louie scratched his head.

“I dunno.”

“Bullshit. You do know. And I know. You’re still my boy and you can do this. Make me proud.” The ghost glanced up at the clock hanging from the wall. 3:59 AM. “I’ve gotta get goin, now. Your uncle Andy will get in touch with the details.”

“But how do I?”

“But nothing. Don’t worry, don’t think, don’t try. Just do it.”

And then the ghost of Leonardo Spatelli grabbed another slice of pie and floated out the door, leaving Louie alone in his bachelor pad with his television and his cold pizza.