Carlo's Gonna Owe Me

Get this: I'm out with T's nephew, right? We're going over to pay a visit to Pete Fagole, this chiacchierone of a jamook. Can't keep his fuckin' trap shut. All day he's talking--about who's got what jobs, who knows who, who's getting what table where. Worse, he's always making jokes about Italians and Catholics, like he isn't one. One time, I saw him outside of Patsy's. I was walking out with a calzone. This fuckin' guy, he's standing there with some girl I once saw with the deacon. So naturally, I stop to pay my respect to the young lady and ask that she give my best to Deacon Forza. I gave $65 to that retardation shit the church ran last fall, and I never heard one word of thanks. I deserve the credit! Anyway, Fagole, he says to me, "Paulie, you think it's the fuckin' Virgin Mary over here? She can't save you. Italians and the niceties about the church." Can you believe it? It's embarrassing, and a disgrace that I can't stand for. He should know better. Say what you will about my ma, but she raised me to respect certain things, to have a sense of decency. If I don't stand up for the church, who will?

Where was I? Oh right. So me and Chrissy, we're going to see this guy, and we stop at the gas station. I ask Chrissy if he wants anything from inside, but he says no. I told him that I was going in, and that he'd better have his shoes on when I get back. Last time, he took his shoes off in the car, and the smell seeped into the leather. I had to pay $300 to have it cleaned, and it didn't even really work! I come back out with a Vitamin water. I like them because it has natural minerals, and those are important. Especially for someone like me. I do OK staying in shape, and I could take out most of these young guys that Chrissy has in his crew, but still, you can never be too careful. I'm always telling T that--at our age, it's important to be careful. And that's why it's good to have some minerals and shit. So I come out with this water and Christopher asks for a sip. I let him have a taste ("taste," get it? See what I did there?) and before I know it, that jerkoff drinks the whole fuckin' thing. Gone. And it's not the money--though he owes me. It's the principle. Who drinks a whole drink after he says he doesn't want anything from inside? Madonn, it's rude. But what would you expect from T's nephew? That fuckin' kid.

So we show up, we visit with that mortadell, and it's time to leave. I tell Chrissy we should stop and have a drink--and he's buying! Ha ha. So we stop at some bar. He buys me a drink. We're sitting there, talking. I look up, and Houston is playing Portland. It's a fucking terrible game. Who's surprised, though? I'd bet Carlo $50 that Houston would win because everyone knows that the Rockets have Yao Ming. Have you seen that guy? He's the tallest chinaman I've ever seen. I point it out to Chrissy, but he didn't get it. I said, "Look at that guy," but Chrissy was confused. He said, "Yeah, it's Yao Ming. Some fucking Chinese guy. What, you want me to buy some knock off Bruce Lee shit? Stop hassling me, Paulie." Can you believe it? This idiot. He didn't get it. So I said, "Madonn', that's a lot of fucking lo mein!" Ohhhh! Hahahahahahaha.

It was a bad game, like I said. Portland didn't play defense. The other reason I bet on Houston--they're tougher. You could see it. Not only do they have that tall stack of dumplings, but they got that guy Artest. I heard he started a riot in Detroit, and if you can survive that, you can probably handle a little rain in Oregon. Although, I once forgot my umbrella and had to drive T around in a monsoon, and my socks were wet. It was awful. Plus, that guy Scola, he's from Argentina, I heard. That's where the fuckin' Nazis went after World War II. You don't wanna mess with a Nazi. It was pretty obvious that the Trail Blazers knew better. Houston got every rebound, it got so many loose balls. It was like Portland thought it just had to show up as opposed to playing. Whatever it is, Carlo's gonna owe me $50 unless Portland figures out a way to take a punch. Which reminds me, I don't even really like basketball. I am into boxing. The Blazers needed Marciano. He could fight a Nazi, no problem.