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Chapter Three- Part 1 - Find Big Fat Fanny Fast

Chapter Three- Part 1 - Find Big Fat Fanny Fast

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Published by Joe Bruno

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Categories:Topics, Art & Design
Published by: Joe Bruno on Jun 15, 2010
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial

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06/11/2011

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From the time he could breathe, Tony B was not a very nice kid. In fact, he was such not a nice boy,his parents decided to stop having children altogether. As a result, Tony B grew up as an only child.Being an only child had its advantages and disadvantages. One of the disadvantages was nothaving a sister he could peek at through a hole in the bathroom wall, that he surely would have drilled,had a sister been born. Or having a younger brother, he could smack around a little bit when Tony Bwas not having such a good day. Cracking someone around, always lifted Tony B.'s spirits.Tony B brooded about these things many times, but when he did brood, he straightened himself out real quick, by thinking about the advantages of being an only child.Like not having to fight anyone, but his mother, for the last meatball on the serving plate atSunday dinner. He knew better than to mess with old hand-crazy old man, but Mama Dria got forkedin the hand many times ,when she dared try to grab the last freaking meatball on the goddamn serving plate.When Tony B did spear the old lady with the fork, his father laughed, and thought it was cutethat his son had established himself as a tough guy, at such an early age. Tony's mother laughed too,through clenched teeth, knowing the only reason she even had a chance at the last freaking meatball,was because her husband was too full, to stuff another meatball down his fat freaking throat.Being an only child also meant Tony B got all the allowance money he needed from his oldman, who had no other children to suck him dry.A dollar here, a dollar there, and maybe a twenty, or two, stolen from a roll of about a 150twenties, his father always left on his nightstand, before he went to sleep at night. Right next to hiskeys, a book of matches and a pack of Chesterfields. This act of larceny was quite easy to do, since his parents slept in separate bedrooms, an arrangement made to ensure Tony B would be indeed their onlychild.Tony B got his idea to steal his old man's stash in a strange way. One night, he accidentallycaught his mother clipping a few twenties from his father's roll, while the old man was snoring like a polar bear in heat. Rather than rat mom out to pop, and be the cause of her getting a few teethloosened, Tony B made it clear to her, in no uncertain terms, that he, and he alone, had the first shotat pop's cash, each and every night. No questions asked. If mom wanted to risk a second cut, that wasentirely up to her, but she was on her own as far as that was concerned. Tony B also promised momhe'd keep his mouth shut about the whole damn situation, including her corrupting of her young son, by exhibiting the worse case of bad example.Tony B figured, if his father found out about the thievery, at most, he'd get a crack in the face.While mom would wind up being carried into Beekman Downtown Emergency, on a stretcher, mostlikely missing a few teeth.Tony B understood at a very young age, not being an canary can sometimes be a very goodthing.Some kids are good at sports. Some kids are good at school. Tony B turned out to be good atneither. His parents skipped the public school route, and enrolled Tony B into Transfiguration CatholicGrammar School at 29 Mott Street, one block east of Mulberry. While in the third grade, Tony Brealized he could garner some neat perks if he could con his teachers into letting him become an alter 
 
 boy.The nuns and priests at Transfiguration didn't realize that letting Tony B become an alter boywas like giving Willie Sutton a job as a teller at the Bowery Savings Bank. But Tony B put on his beststudious and Pius act, and actually convinced the clerics that he would indeed be a good candidate for alter boy-hood, which made the saints' statues in Transfiguration Church next door to the school,cringe in dismay.So Tony B studied his Latin ----- “Ad Deum qui lai te fi cot, uven tutem mayum”---BLA, BLA,BLA, BLA, BLA, BLA...........That was basically the extent of what you had to learn to become an alter boy.It was obvious Tony B did not take up the added responsibilities of being an Alter Boy for strictly humanitarian, or divine reasons. Nobody in their right mind would like to get up at six in themorning, and trudge through the darkness, on cold and blistery days, just to serve the 7 o'clock mass,for a bunch of shapeless old ladies, with black draperies hung over their bodies, and black clodhoppers on their stubby feet. No, the object of Tony B's madness was that he now had endless supply of cheap, red wine, hecould pilfer from the rectory, under the righteous noses of the good fathers, who were half asleepthemselves at 7 am in the morning.In fact, Tony B repeatedly volunteered to serve the early mass for exactly that reason. By thetime the 7:45, and 8:30 masses took place, the priests were already wide awake, and more likely tonotice that a bottle, or two of wine missing from the rectory wine cabinet.This was especially true of Father Quincy, who Tony B noted was one step above a broken-down drunk on the nearby Bowery.Many times, while Tony B poured the wine into Father Quincy's chalice during Mass, the priest would grab Tony B's hand, and force it downward saying, “Now there boy, stop pouring thewine as if it were medicine.”Only after the Chalice had reached the desired level of wine, did father Quincy release hisvice-like grip on Tony B's hand.So when it was Father Quincy who served the 7am Mass, Tony B was in his own form of heaven. Tony B always arrived before everyone, with a duffel bag, filled his cassock and surplice, thathe changed into as soon as he arrived, at around 6:30 am. Then, before the priest assigned to the 7o'clock Mass stumbled into the Sacristy, and while the Sacristan was busy lighting candles by the alter,Tony B went into full wine-copping mode.Tony B, with the help of little Richie Ratface Rambone, had months before, snatched the winecabinet key, and had a copy made. So all Tony B had to do, was when the coast was clear, open thelock, remove a quart bottle and stuff it into his duffel bag before anyone was any the wiser.One bottle would never be missed, but if Tony B had gotten greedy and stolen two or more bottles at the same time, someone might have caught on to his scheme. With one bottle missing, even if some dopey priest noticed, he would think it had been taken by another priest, for his late night
 
escapades. Whatever they may be. Tony B knew all too well, that the priests at TransfigurationChurch, were all alcoholics, to one extent or another. So maybe by stealing the wine, he was actuallydoing them a favor.Every so often, a certain priest, say Father Quincy for instance, would disappear for a fewweeks, and sometimes months. The excuse given, was that this priest was on a retreat, reinforcing hisrelationship with God. When in fact, he was in some dry-out tank, at one of the many Catholic Church-run hospitals, spread throughout the country.Or maybe even worse.The worse being, one of the alter boys telling his parents, that a certain holy father hadaccidentally put his hands down the front of little boy's trousers. This had happened more than anyoneconnected with the Catholic Church chose to admit. Yet after a few months of retreat life, the offending priest would be given a transfer to another parish, most often in another city, if not in another state, or another freaking country. Now inquiring minds might ask, did Tony B steal the wine just to get drunk himself?Of course not.Tony B hated wine. It tasted like someone had just taken a leak in his mouth.Yet Tony B had no problem selling the wine to his upperclassmen, in grades 6, 7 and 8. For a buck, or two, or whatever price moved him at that particular moment. Thus his early morning wineexcursions earned Tony B just enough extra cash to buy his favorite girlie magazines at a newsstand onChatham Square, run by a Chinaman, who would sell anything to anybody, regardless of race, color,creed, or most important to Tony B --- age.When he was 10 years old, Tony B's parents moved to spacious three bedroom apartment, in asix-story tenement on the corner of Mulberry and Worth Street, just down the block from theDepartment of Motor Vehicles.Since Tony B had his own bedroom, and was now having multiple-daily erections, the girliemagazines, bought with the cash garnered from the stolen sacristy wine, sure came in handy whenTony B felt compelled to take matters into his very own hands.When the urge came, Tony B would close his bedroom door, click on his War Civilian radio,for background noise so his mother would not wonder why he was so quiet, and begin his novicemasturbation routine. At the age of 10, only a few dozen rapid strokes were necessary to bring himself to total completion.Then one day, the unimaginable happened.Tony B's was banging away with his right hand and holding a copy of New York Nights in hisleft hand. Fibber McGee and Molly were arguing on the radio, when for no discernible reason, hismother opened the door and walked into Tony B's bedroom.Time seemed to stand still. Tony B stopped pumping his right hand, and held his manhoodtight, with one eye on his mother, and the other on the bedroom window, which he was contemplating

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