Great Wine List, Lousy View
Gentrification and Knives: Flash Fiction
The laceration could talk, pantomime at least, the open lips of it curled back by force and the artery intact by fluke of a twist worthy of an ice skating medal.
Joe Tavalis twisted again to throw a punch too wide too weak too late.
A second glass of Montepulciano hit the corner table, Patio Table 4, gently, about the same time Joe Tavalis’s head hit the pavement.
Essa Landrum was short on rent, fuck you very much, you would have overspent on a vacation with Stephanie Watley too, and the couple at Patio Table 4 on their fifth glass of wine each seemed like they would last minute cover her ass.
Stephen Druckman’s investors told him not to even open a patio, not in West West Market on the fringe of Shawland Heights, keep the patrons inside with impressionist paintings of gondolas and cathedrals, but Stephen pushed patio, liquor sales, private gatherings.
Dr. Edwin Rayyal and his colleagues would marvel at the laceration’s proximity to an unperturbed artery. An amateur statistician, Doc Ray as they called him at the casino, would put the odds at around 945,000 to 1 against a human receiving a slice like that without life threatening blood loss.
Tamara Knight would only describe on Yelp the horror of witnessing the attack, where she wrote a scathing, blustery, hyperbolic evisceration of Stephen Druckman’s dream bistro, Mil an Company, after she regurgitated in her mouth from shock and red wine, and stormed out, stiffing Essa Landrum, who never saw Joe Tavalis get sliced, because she was too busy trying not to spill red wine.
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Author’s Note:
I used to work at an Italian Restaurant in Detroit, Maria’s. On one side was one of the nicer residential areas in the city, and down the street about 3/4 of a mile was the Smith Housing Projects. We were only robbed once, broken into a few times. It was a very close knit family business. While I was employed there I was arrested and charged with Assault with Intent to Commit Murder in an incident that happened in a worse neighborhood closer to Wayne State University. After some time in Wayne County Jail my boss and second Mom, Joan Orlando bailed me out and two hours after leaving jail I reported to my shift at the restaurant to start paying her back. I was found Not Guilty of the most serious charges and did some probation time on a lesser charge. I moved, and my probation office was changed. My new probation officer was a regular customer of the restaurant. He recognized me, never once subjected me to the court ordered urinalysis, and when he retired after 40 years in the department he petitioned the court to release me early from probabtion, which they did. His name was Arthur Lipman and I’ll never forget him. Through a social/geographic fluke, I’m still good friends with his grandson.
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I have a new serial in the works and there are many more stories slam dancing in this crazy brain of mine. Here’s the first installment of the serial.
A Round of Shots
Above the third urinal at The Emerald Isle is the oldest graffiti in the place. Marty Murphy doesn’t want it touched, and nobody has ever touched it.
A Round of Shots
Sooo... Maria's fits into the story of how I met you. When I first moved out here (24 years ago?), newly married to someone you know, we had a 1st wedding anniversary part, because we got married in NY and had a party out there but not one here, neither of us had family out this way and we were poor and newly married. So the Wasband called around and/or left messages with everyone he could think of and got captured on caller id with my last name, Hennessey. In any event, you called the house and I answered, you were totally puzzled as to who had called and why, and I realized that it was likely you had gotten a hang up call when you didn't answer the phone for the invite, but the called id was the hook that made you call back. We talked quite a bit and you mentioned that you had worked at Maria's, and the owners, or someone in charge there had the same last name as me. It was a totally delightful conversation, and I let the Wasband know that James Graham had called and we had a bang up conversation, and he should call you back. Flash forward to Christmas of the same year and I finally met you face to face at Rob Perkins for New Years Eve, I believe my first in MI. There was a funny story about that meeting, but I'll save it for another time! E
I hope you take this as a compliment. A big one. I prefer reading your real life stories even more than your fiction. I only say this because I think you know I am a big fan of your fiction as well.