.... a check for $130,000 arrived in the mail today. I thought it was one of those phony sample gimmicks from Publishers Clearing
House Sweepstakes or that my signature upon endorsement would buy me time-sharing
in Aleppo or Pyongyang. But I saw it was drawn from the Crimean branch of the Bank of the Kremlin and signed by M. Cohen with a contract
attached stipulating that I keep my trap shut. I figured if the fund is slushed my tongue can be hushed.
True, I’ve been running off at the mouth lately,
particularly after a wee drop of spirits, but I’m not a squealer. I notice I've become a blabber mouth (like now) when I really have nothing much to say... especially when I have nothing to say. But for that kind of money I
can happily shut up. For another $130,000 I might agree to duct tape.
The sudden windfall has given me pause. I couldn’t
help but wonder what it is that I know and when did I know it. Fearful of being
dragged into a grand jury room to spill the beans I began to search my
ever-diminishing memory bank to question if I had any beans at all.
Could it be what I overheard from the next booth at Fromin’s Deli? Or was it something said in a crowded elevator? Maybe a long-forgotten whisper of a scandal from the school Donald attended across from my apartment building sixty-four years ago?
Could it be what I overheard from the next booth at Fromin’s Deli? Or was it something said in a crowded elevator? Maybe a long-forgotten whisper of a scandal from the school Donald attended across from my apartment building sixty-four years ago?
My grandfather’s name, on my mother's side, was Morris and I had an uncle
named Max…. both with last name Cohen. Maybe this is some sort of inheritance.
But why the hush?
In college someone called me Stormin Norman. I never
knew what the reference was until now.
I’m getting the jitters. I think I better lay low on
the other side of town till the heats off. Some goon who looked like a sparring
partner for Jake La Motta gave me a dirty look last week when I didn’t
apologize after he stepped on my foot.
Unless I join a monastic order and take my vows I
doubt I can handle the silence. I had lunch with friends today and didn’t say a
word. I nodded a lot and grunted a few times, then blurted that I had to go.
Nobody seemed to mind when I picked up the check.
But I can see the hushed life is not for me. I’ve
decided to send the check back to the shell company in a thousand shreds. I can’t be bought even if I have no idea what I’m selling.
Oh, honey, this is such a delight...full of your jazzy language, humor, and imagination!
ReplyDeleteLove it...but not as much as I love you..
Apple Blossom
Now I'll never know if you love me for myself or for my blogs.
ReplyDelete