“Huh?” As the snowflakes got larger, Barry turned toward his big-chested foreman stomping toward him. The man had angry red cheeks.

  “Don’t you listen to your walkie-talkie!” the foreman yelled. “I’ve been giving you orders for the last five minutes!”

  “Orders?”

  “To stop traffic from coming through! Turn the frigging sign! Make everybody stop!” As roaring traffic almost hit them, the foreman raised his beefy hands. “This has been going on too damned long. How many times do I have to tell you to do something?”

  “I’m sorry. I—”

  “Look, I hate to do this. You’re just not fit for the job anymore. Don’t show up tomorrow.”

  “But—”

  “Can’t risk it. Somebody’ll get hurt. Get your head straight, man. You need to find a better attitude.”

  BRIAN M. WIPRUD

  BRIAN Wiprud, author of the exceptionally funny PIPSQUEAK, STUFFED and CROOKED lives in New York City with forty pet lemurs and a three-legged badger.

  When pestered about his affection for hitman stories, Brian replied: “I have none, but I like stories about lemurs.” The following tale contains both hitmen and lemurs.

  Visit Brian at www.Wiprud.com.

  WHEN YOU’RE RIGHT, YOU’RE RIGHT

  Brian M. Wiprud

  FBI WIRE TRANSCRIPT 2849-A

  Date: November 10, 1997

  Time: 8:01 P.M.

  Location: Turkey’s Nest Bar & Grill, Brooklyn

  Participants: Jackie “Jackie Muscles” Napol, Anthony “Louie” DePorta

  A: That’s fucked up, Jackie.

  J: Fucked up is right.

  A: (unintelligible. . .) a lemur?

  J: I dunno, it’s like a monkey kinda thing, except it looks all cute, like a plush toy.

  A: Where they from? Friggin’ Africa?

  J: Hey, Suze, can I get some of them steamed muscles? What?

  A: A lemur. Does it live in Africa?

  J: Nah. Some place called Magalaska.

  A: So did you do that thing? The lemur, I mean.

  J: Hey, they tell me to do that thing to a friggin’ whale, I gotta do it, you know what I’m saying?

  A: That’s the life.

  J: The life.

  A: Salud. . .(unintelligible). . .his girlfriend?

  J: Like I said, the lemur belongs to this guy’s comare.

  A: Yeah?

  J: Yeah, like she sits around all day, watching the boob tube. She loves nature shows, watches the Discography Channel er whatever all day.

  A: All day. . .that’s a lotta animals.

  J: So this guy goes to visit his comare regular, you know, the way you do.

  A: Didn’t that guy in Donnie Brasco, what’s his name, watch a lotta animal shows?

  J: The movie? Yeah, I think. There’s a lion in that movie.

  A: That’s right, and they surprise what’s his name with a Lion. This lemur: it big?

  J: Big? Nah. Like this. It would sit on his girlfriend’s shoulder. Like I was sayin’, this guy visits her one day and she’s got this lemur thing.

  A: Where’s she get the friggin’ thing? From Magalaska?

  J: I dunno.

  A: What the fuck? Why does he want you should do a piece of work on this animal?

  J: His wife. When he gets home, he’s got lemur fuzz on him, and the thing has a smell. She’s like, where the fuck do you go at night? Can’t have that.

  A: (unintelligible). . .lint brush.

  J: Most guys, they don’t want their goombatta to have even a cat just ’causa the fuzz. A bird, yeah, maybe a little dog. Nothin’ with a lotta fuzz. But I think this guy really didn’t like how much time his girlfriend was spending with the lemur. She loved it like it’s her own son. So he decides it’s gotta go.

  A: You mean the lemur?

  J: Yeah. I gotta do a thing on Frankie.

  A: Frankie?

  J: That’s the name of the lemur. I get an apartment number over in Canarsie, and this guy is out with his comare so he knows she won’t be there.

  A: Where’d they go?

  J: Embers.

  A: They were closer to Lugers in Canarsie.

  J: Yeah, well, I think that was the point. He wanted to give me a good door of opportunity to take care of Frankie. And I needed it, believe me.

  A: What’s she gonna think when she gets home? I don’t get it.

  J: Hey. Not like that, Louie. What, I’m gonna. . .[unintelligible]. . .my piece on this problem? Nah. He just wants the problem should go away. I open a window, make it look like he run off or something.

  A: So you hafta grab this monkey, take it out somewhere and. . .

  J: Lemur. Yeah, like that.

  A: I dunno, Jackie. That’s kinda sick. It’s just an animal, for Christ sake.

  J: Hey, you gotta do what you gotta do. That’s the life, am I right or am I right?

  A: Yeah. . .yo, Suze, could we get another round? Like a friggin’ beer desert over here. Got cactuses growing in my mouth.

  J: So I got a key to her place, anna duffle bag to put the thing in. Figure I take it out to the end of Flatlands, bang bang, and throw the bag inna swamp.

  A: How’d you get the lemur inna bag?

  J: I figure I put a cracker in there, he climbs in feat it, I zip him up.

  A: A cracker? Parrots eat crackers, you know, Polly wanna a cracker.

  J: Fuck, I dunno, what animal doesn’t like a cracker?

  A: A deer. A deer won’t eat no cracker.

  J: But this is a lemur. A monkey’ll eat a cracker.

  A: I woulda brought bananas. Thanks, Suze. . .this for you, sweetheart.

  J: So I get into the apartment, and this thing is sitting inna cage across the room, lookin’ at me, y’know?

  A: Lookin’ at you?

  J: Yeah. It’s got these big eyes that look at you. Not like, what, a mouse or something. Like a little old lady’s eyes, or a baby’s, I dunno. He’s black an’ white. His face is black with white eyebrows. So Frankie is lookin’ at me, comes over to the cage door like he expects me to let him out. I offer him a cracker, he takes it, so I figure all I gotta do is put the bag in front of the cage with another cracker an’ I’m golden.

  A: Yeah, golden. White eyebrows?

  J: Uh huh. Except I made the mistake of opening the window first, y’know, to make it look like he escaped.

  A: Fuck. So he vamoosed?

  J: Right over the bag an’ out the friggin’ window. Like a shot.

  A: Musta shit your pants.

  J: So I’m at the window, an’ Frankie is out on the ledge eatin’ the cracker.

  A: The cracker from the bag or the first cracker?

  J: He grabbed it from the bag as he went. A lemur is fast, I’m tellin’ yah.

  A: You grab him?

  J: If only I had a net. Lookit, see that?

  A: Yeah. . .

  J: Son of a bitch bit me, is what he did.

  A: When you tried to grab him?

  J: Yeah. So I get some paper towels, y’know, wrapped around my hand like a bandage. I come back an’ try to get Frankie to come back in, wavin’ a cracker in the air like this. . .

  A: [laughter]

  J: Hey, it’s not funny, it’d been you.

  A: Sorry.

  J: That don’t work, so I get another idea. I figure I’ll get a broom and knock him off the ledge, let him fall to his death. But all I can find is a, y’know, toilet brush.

  A: Yeah, that way it’ll look like an accident. Like he escaped, went out the window, tripped an’ fell. How many floors?

  J: Ten, plenty. So I’m holding the toilet brush, y’know, pokin’ at him, an’ he grabs it an’ hits me over the head, throws the toilet brush away. You laughin’ again?

  A: No. . .no. Jesus Christ. Which end did he hit you with? The fuzzy end with the shit on it?

  J: Nah, I was pokin’ him with the poopy end, so that’s what he grabbed.

  A: You finally just pop him?

  J: Too much noise, Louie. This was supposed to be done very quiet like.

  A: I woulda shot the prick, picked his sorry ass uppa the sidewalk and gone to Flatlands to throw him in the weeds. Still seems a shame, just an animal. . .

  J: [unintelligible]. . .all over the sidewalk? How’s that gonna look? An’ I mess this up, imagine the ribbing I’m gonna take. Nah, I figure a better idea. This comare, she’s got like one of them desks with all her makeup on it. . .

  A: A vanity.

  J: Yeah. An’ there’s a mirror there. One of them hand-held jobs. So I hold the mirror up to Frankie. . .I was channel surfing once, and there was this monkey with a mirror, staring at himself. So maybe, I’m thinkin’, this’ll do the job on a lemur.

  A: He didn’t hit you with the mirror?

  J: Get outta here! Nah, I hold it out so he can’t reach it, he looks, y’know, with them lemur eyes I was tellin’ yah about, an’ sure as shit he starts to come closer. I back up, he comes forward, bam, I close the window.

  A: Yo, y’got him.

  J: Eh, not ’xactly. I know if I grab him, the fucker’ll bite me again, or he’ll freak out an’ run away. The thing is fast, I’m tellin’ yah, and you wouldn’t believe how the thing can jump. You could make a basketball team outta these things. Nah. I sit there with him by the window, lettin’ him look at himself, y’know, an’ very careful like I reach over and touch his arm. Pettin’ him, y’know. Well, next thing you know, that thing is sittin’ on my shoulder with the mirror. I’m tellin’ yah, he was like transfixuated or something by his own image. So I stand up real slow. . .like this.

  A: He’s still on your shoulder?

  J: Yeah, an’ I got my hand up pettin’ him. So I got one problem covered. I could leave with him on my shoulder an’ try to get him to the car like that. But I gotta put the mirror back, ’cause the girlfriend will notice it missin’. . .

  A: Unless she thinks Frankie took the mirror with him.

  J: Nah. Couldn’t chance it. But how am I gonna go out the building without everybody starin’ at me with this animal on my shoulder, a bloody paper towel around my hand? An’ I still gotta get the toilet brush, which is ten floors down inna bushes and put that back.

  A: People notice stuff like that, yeah. You need a strategy. Couldn’t you, like, ease him into the bag?

  J: I tried, I tried. But that thing had the mirror in one hand, and the other on my ear. Wouldn’t let go, me or the mirror. So I go over to the varsity. . .

  A: The vanity. . .

  J: The vanity, right, and get him to look at the mirror there. Big ass mirror. Sure as shit, he gets off and sits on that, staring into the big mirror. I leave him there, go downstairs, get the toilet brush, put it back, an’ what do I find but that Frankie had put the mirror down.

  A: So now you put the bag over him, right?

  J: Not exactly. See, I figure that’ll be tough. He’s strong, an’ got arms an’ legs stickin’ out while I try to zip it up. And the tail is like a friggin’ snake. . .like this long. Nah. Again, if he started to freak, I’d never get him. So I move all the makeup an’ stuff to the sides, clear things away from him, you know? Real easy.

  A: Yeah.

  J: Thanks, Suze. . .could I have some Tabasco for these here muscles?. . .Anyway, I take a plastic trash can, empty it out, and slam it over him. He’s bouncin’ around in there like a friggin’ jumpin’ bean, and it’s all I can to hold him in there, but I lift him off the varsity. . .

  A: Whoa. Howdja do that?

  J: Whaddaya mean?

  A: The trash can, how’d you keep Frankie in there?

  J: There was like this mat or whatever on the varsity, cardboard kinda thing. . .

  A: Like a blotter?

  J: Yeah, like that, but fancy. I go over to the oven, open it with my foot, jam this thing in there, an’ before he can scramble out I close the door, lean a chair against the handle so he, y’know, can’t get out. He’s bangin’ around in there, and so I turn the oven on.

  A: Sonofabitch. You cooked him alive? That’s a sin, Jackie. Just an animal. Musta smelled like friggin’ hell!

  J: Nah. Before I turned the oven on, I blew out the pilot. I gassed him.

  A: [unintelligible]. . .not so bad.

  J: After about ten minutes, he stops movin’ around in there, I turn off the gas, and there he is, out like a friggin’ light. I pick him up by the tail, put him in the bag, zip it closed, put the trash can an’ blotter thing back on the varsity, make things all nice. I open the window wide, air the place out of gas, then close it a little bit so it’d look, y’know, like he just eased it open an’ slipped out. Left the cage door open. Either the comare will think she didn’t close it OK or that the little bastard managed to open it himself.

  A: [laughter] So you got him, took him to Flatlands, and did the thing. Shit, that’s one fucked-up story. What’s this? You’re shaking your head. . .

  J: Not over yet. Thanks, Suze. So I take the bag, right? I lock up, everything is perfect. I put him in the back seat, start driving to Flatlands.

  A: I don’t get it. What the fuck happened?

  J: I’m drivin’ down Coney Island Avenue, when suddenly I feel somethin’ grab my ear.

  A: Jesus Christ! He wasn’t dead!

  J: Not only that, he got outta the bag, an’ he’s crawling on toppa my head. Scared the shit outta me, an’ I’m swervin’ all over the road, almost had an accident. That’s when I see the lights.

  A: Lights?

  J: Yeah, a friggin’ cop is pulling me over an’ I got a lemur on toppa my my head like fuckin’ Davy Crockett.

  A: [laughter] Jackie, please, you’re killin’ me. I don’t care what you say, this is one fucked-up story. What’d the cop do?

  J: He’s on this side, standin’ back the way they do so you can’t pop them, the other one comes up the other side and starts shinin’ a flashlight in the car. Pricks. I can’t roll my window all the way down ’cause I don’t want that Frankie should, y’know, make a break for it. So the cop asks me, like, to roll the window all the way down an’ I say I can’t do that causa this lemur on my head, that he might jump outta the window. I tell the guy that, y’know, he escaped an’ scared me an’ that’s why I was all over the road. Now they’re laughin’, but they wanna see my license and registration. I hand ’em over, they go back to the cruiser. In the meantime, Frankie is still a little groggy, and I manage to like pry him from my head and get him on the seat next to me. I snap the rearview mirror off the windshield an’ hand it to him. He starts lookin’ into it with those eyes, y’know?

  A: Quick thinkin’, Jackie. About the mirror. I like the way you do that.

  J: Do what?

  A: You know, that look you do for Frankie checkin’ himself out in the mirror.

  J: Yeah, so the cops come back an’ say they need me to step out of the friggin’ car. They have to do a sobriety check, standard procedure they have to follow whenever they call in an erratic driver, they say. So I quick like slip out, and do the test. Stone cold, I pass, they let me go with a warning, tell me to keep my animal under control. So they drive off.

  A: Golden?

  J: Heh. I turn to the car an’ I can’t get in. Frankie dropped the mirror, an’ is standin’ on the door, his feet on the arm rest, his nose stuck out the little crack I left in the window to talk to the cops. This little bastard put his foot on the door lock, all the doors are now locked, the keys inside.

  A: Can we jump to the end?

  J: What?

  A: I’m dyin’ here. The suspense is too much.

  J: Take it easy, Louie, we’re getting’ there. So I call a guy I know, and have my car towed to the airport.

  A: The airport?

  J: La Guardia. You know the cargo hangar, the one where. . .

  A: Yeah, I remember, that thing. Cargo hangar is a good place to do a thing. So no more Flatlands?

  J: Hey, I figure the best thing is to have the car towed out there, I pop the bastard inside my car through the crack in the window and then clean it up right then an’ there. I mean, how much blood could there be in a lemur? Couldn’t be so bad, just try not to shoot out a window. So I get this guy to tow the car there, he lends me a Slim Jim so I can get back in the car when we’re done. We’re all alone, Frankie is back sittin’ on the passenger seat with the mirror again. I figure the slug’ll pass through him an’ the seat an’ into the quarter panel, no real harm done. Now I’m like this, you know, pointing it at him, about to put the granite hat on him when he looks up at me.

  A: So?

  J: This isn’t like a mouse. He’s got these eyes. . .I dunno. Can I borrow your lighter, there?

  A: Sure. So, like I said, it was a sin, you couldn’t do it. It’s just an animal, for Christ sake. He didn’t do nothin’.

  J: Believe me, there have been times, Louie. People begging, an’ I couldn’t give a rat’s ass, an’ do what needs to be done. But this was like whackin’ a friggin’ muppet. I’m tellin’ yah.

  A: What, like Miss Piggy?

  J: Miss Piggy? Nah! I could pop Miss Piggy. This was more like Fozzie.

  A: Fozzie Bear? Yeah, that’d be tough puttin’ the bead on Fozzie. So whadja do?

  J: I shipped him home.

  A: Back to Canarsie?

  J: Back to Magalaska. They got live animal crates there at the cargo terminal. Frankie was still kinda groggy, and he took my rearview mirror with him back to Magalaska. Put him on the next flight, addressed to the zoo or some shit.

  A: Marrone! So he went back in a box holding your rearview mirror. Jackie, that was the right thing to do. Where exactly is Magalaska?

  J: Shit, I didn’t know for sure, but I figured it out by lookin’ at the airline names which plane to get him on.

  A: There’s a Magalaska Airline?

  J: Nah, but like I told you, I figured it out. Magalaska. Think about it.

  A: [unintelligible]

  J: Alaska Airlines.

  A: Is that where Magalaska is? Friggin’ Alaska?

  J: Hey, Jersey City, it’s in New Jersey. New York, it’s in New York. Kansas City, it’s in Kansas.

  A: When you’re right, you’re right, Jackie.