Killing
A Novel By Victor Fortezza -- Contributing Author

WARNING: Killing takes place in a very real world where people are flawed and may contain material of a harsh nature. While the Cynic Online Magazine does not feel that the novel promotes racism, the novel acknowledges that racism exists in the real world and therefore acknowlegedges the possibility in its characters. If you are offended by content of this nature, please navigate to another feature within the magazine.

15

The convention center was decorated for the holidays. The crew was seated in a circle, eating lunch, conversing, when Tony entered, small package in hand.

"Whattaya got, fat boy?" said Sandy. "Chawklit? Holdin' out on us?"

"A CD fuh my daughta - Madonna's best."

Dante frowned. "Whattaya ya doin', Toe? Dat ain't good fer a t'irteen yeah ol' girl."

Tony shrugged uncomfortably. "What'oo I know? Besides, she's fifteen now."

"Yeah? Mahdone, time flies."

"She's got tits now."

Laughter erupted.

"Gimme 'er numbah," said Sandy.

"Hah 'bout a bullet to the head instead?"

The atmosphere became raucous for a moment.

"I don' keah hah ol' she is," said Dante. "It still ain't good fer 'er."

"What'oo I know? Dat's what she asked fuh."

"Whattaya mean: 'What'oo I know?' The bootahnana dee-owl's everywheah ya turn - TV, radio, the paypiz. Ya couttn't miss 'er if ya wannid to. Ya ain't afraid Stacy'll turn out like 'er?"

"She could cry awl the way to the bank," Sandy interjected, mouth full of food.

"Yer the bigges' hypacrite goin', San'."

"Ya wouttn't pop 'er if ya had the cheahnce? Ya say dat - yaw the bigges' hypacrite goin'."

"I'd floss with her pubic hairs," said Pete Jr., who was lying on his side, head propped on a hand, music magazine spread before him.

Everyone, even Ben, laughed.

"'er music sucks," said Sandy, "but so what? She's so hot. Dat's awl I keah about."

"Ya might get AIDS," said Dante.

This was greeted by howls of protest.

"How d'you know anything they write about her's true?" said Pete. "It might all be an act just to sell records. Sex always sells and it always will."

"Only feahgs an' junkies get AIDS, anyway," said Sandy.

"What decade are you livin' in?" said Pete, peeved. "What about Magic?"

"I bet he's one too. Rememba when he kissed dat otha zam on the cawt befaw the game? He goes bote ways. Everybody knows it."

"Tell it to dat lady who got it from 'er dentis'."

"Whattaya wanna bet the skifots gave it to 'er on purpiss so everybody else'd get skeahed an' staht cryin' fer a cure fuh awl 'is boyfrien's. Priests an' politicians make dis stuff up to try to skeah us an' shake us down. Meanwhahl, de'ah the bigges' degenerates goin'."

"Dey try to skeah us 'cause AIDS is reahl," said Dante. "The maw people dat fool aroun', the maw trouble deah is fuh everybody. It's against naycha to run aroun' a lot."

"Whose naycha? Not mine."

"Ain't dat what AIDS is tryin' to tell us? We let things go too fah, an' now even kids'a awl screwin' aroun' an' catchin' it too."

"Dat's the zams an' the spics passin' it aroun' from the junkies in de'ah neighbahoods. Who keahs about dem? Ask me, dis's the bes' thing dat coulda happened. Feahgs an' junkies'a droppin' like flies. It's makin' the world a betta place. The only bad thing's dat de'ah everywheah breakin' bawls about it. Dey don' stop. Dey want us awl to drop what wheah doin' an' run an' find a kyaw so dey kin go back to drillin' each otha wit'out worryin' about dyin'."

Tense laughter arose. Heads turned, gazing about, as if a spy might be lurking nearby.

"I ain't kiddin'. It ain't nothin' but prahpaganda from lib'rils, priests, an' Hollywood finauks. De'ah awl rich - let dem give awl deah money to fight it, 'stead'a botherin' us, 'speshly dat moolinyon beahsketbawl playah whose wort' zillyins. Let 'em leave 'is wife an' kids a millyin each an' give the res' to the queahs. Why not? He helped spread it. Jus' once I wanna heah one of 'em admit it was deah own fault dey got it."

"Hah 'bout you?" said Dante. "Yer awways braggin' about hah many girls ya pop. Would you admit it if you got it?"

"I'd put the blame right wheah it belawngs - on dem. Dey spread it. Dey keahn't kill each otha awf feahst enough by me. Wheah way betta awf wit'out 'em."

"I knew one in 'nam. He took one in the head fer 'is country. What'd you eva do fuh yaws 'cept kimplain?"

"Yer on deah side now? Ya been tawkin' to the Judotz too much. Eva see him eatin' meat. The only meat he eats is brajole."

The others held their breath. Ben looked past his copy of theTimes, which was folded neatly, smiled wryly, and went back to reading.

"Lawng as dey don' go bangin' each otha on the base aw holdin' han's out in public, who keahs what dey do."

"But dat's what de'ah shootin' faw. Dey want us awl to say it's awright. Open yer eyes, fuh chricesake. De'ah teachin' it in school now. Dey'll bring the whole country down like Rome was brought down by deah degenerates."

Pete snickered. "You're a historian now? You should write a book."

"I'd love to see dat," said Tony. "It'd be funnier den dat Mel Brooks movie."

Quotes from the film flew back and forth. Dante winked at Ben, who raised his newspaper to cover his glee.

"Ga'head, laugh," said Sandy. "Ya know I'm right. Ya jus' too chicken to say it yaselfs. What if dey wanna keep a boyfrien' in a house on the base, like a regulah married guy? What if dey want the same benefits fuh deah boyfrien's we get? What's to stop 'em from makin' believe de'ah married jus' to cahlect?"

"You should be writin' editorials," said Pete.

"He'd have every finauk an' yom on the warpat'," said Tony, delighted.

"Dey awready ah. Why not push the waw up? It's comin' soona aw latah. Let's hit firs' befaw we'ah the minahridy an' it's too late."

"Ya soun' like my ol' man," said Dante.

"Mine too," said others simultaneously.

Sandy shook his head. "I know yous think the same way. Ya ain't foolin' me."

"But I'm ashamed when I have thoughts like that," said Pete. "I know they're wrong. You think you're right."

"Yer ashamed 'cause ya one'a dem, you an' Benny. Only a fag'd read lib'ril crap like the Times."

"The News's no betta now," said Tony. "Dank God fuh the Post."

"They're only reflectin' the city as a whole," said Pete, losing patience. "This is the most liberal town on earth."

"An' it shows," said Sandy.

"If yer a uneyin guy, ya vote lib'ral," said Dante.

"Who says?"

"If the uneyin says vote fuh Dinkins, ya vote fuh Dinkins. Ya keahn't have it bote ways."

"I ain't neva votin' fer a moolinyon. What's his great move - sendin' out maw jerg-awfs to write tickets to raise money fer awl 'is relatives on Welfeah? I voted fuh Rudy."

"Me too," said several in unison.

Dante couldn't believe it. "He's lookin' to bring the hammer down on dis place."

Sandy simply smirked.

"Den again, he mus' know wheah awl gettin' away wit' murda. But the way you tawk, you should vote fuh dat Klan guy."

"Even he'd be betta den dis tootsoon."

The others howled.

"You guys're missin' the worst thing about him," said Pete. "While the rest of the country was boomin', we were goin' backwards, losin' jobs left and right, payin' more taxes."

"Dey should break the city up inta five," said Tony. "Nobody kin run it the way it is."

"I bet Rudy could," said Sandy.

"He's a liberal too, you know," said Pete.

"He's even fuh abawshin," said Dante, subdued. "Some Cath'lic he is."

"Dinkins is faw it too, mawron," said Sandy. "An' awl the betta. Deah'll be less zulus bawn. I see no reason not to vote fuh Rudy."

"I think he tawks the lib'ral spiel 'cause he knows he'd have no shot if he didn'," said Tony. "He almos' pulled it awf too. Maybe nex' time. Dis guy now's the worst - the way he held the cops back when the yoms wa wailin' on the Judotzes in Crown Heights. Dey killed dat one kid. De'ah gonna get away wit' it too - watch. De'ah skeah'd of anotha ryit."

"Rudy woulda had the cops deah, crackin' coconuts - though I'd ratha see 'im awl killin' each otha awf like dey us'ly do."

"An' if he goes bustin' up uneyins like Reagan did?" said Dante.

"He'd be floatin' in the rivah," said Cheech, who was stretched out on the floor, eyes closed, bored, above it all, cigarette in hand. "He wouttn't be dealin' wit' no air traffic finauks."

"I dunno," said Pete. "He made his bones in the D.A.'s office goin' after the mob."

"An' now dat he's got it made, he ain't gotta do it no maw. He'll fall in line like dey awl do. He knows who reahly runs things."

"An' it ain't dat moolinyon in 'is fancy suits," said Sandy. "I keahn't stan' the sight of 'im."

"'cause he's betta den you?" said Dante.

"No moolinyon's betta den even the lowes' white."

"Yeah, right."

"He makes me sick the way he's awways wipin' 'is head wit' a handkachiff. He sweats like a pig from awl the fried chicken he mus' eat."

Laughter again erupted.

"Archie Bunker lives!" said Pete.

"Ah fangoul, ya little feahg. Put the eahrin' in ya otha eah so people'll know what ya reahly ah."

"See what ya stahted, Toe," said Dante, smiling, suddenly energized. "Ya brought dat bootahna dee-owl inta dis an' we awl went nuts."

"I take it back. It was Ol' Blue Eyes I bought."

"He prob'bly popped 'er too," said Sandy. "Least, he woulda if he was younga."

"I heah he's stahtin' to go soft upsteahs," said Tony, putting an index finger to his temple.

"Get atta heah!" said Cheech, springing to a sitting position and throwing a hand into the air. "He's still doin' shows. The jealiss bastids in the paypiz awways had it out fuh him. Dey been tryin' to take 'im down fuh yeahs an' he awways comes back strawng. Dey couttn't shine 'is shoes. He'll outlive 'em awl, watch."

Suddenly silence was upon them. Tony smiled sheepishly, then burst into a cry of mockery. "I knew I'd get ya wit' dat. Do I know what buttins to push aw what?"

Everyone laughed as Cheech flushed crimson.

"They can't kill Madonna, either," said Pete. "No matter what they write about her."

"Hey, Cheech," said Sandy urgently, "tell dese gihdrools 'bout dat club she goes to."

Cheech's pale, unshaven face illumined as he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around his shins. He spoke softly, as if delivering a secret intended only for the group. "Ya gotta have nine inches to get in. She picks the one wit' the bigges' sozzeach, puts a leash around 'is neck, wawks 'im upsteahs like a dawg, an' bangs the piss atta him."

"Get-at!" said Tony, smirking.

Cheech's hand shot up as if in scout's honor. "I sweah to my motha. I seen it myself."

"No way," said Dante. "Hah'd you get neah dat place wit' dat cocktail frank you got?"

The others roared. Cheech stewed.

"Lookin' at crotchiz now, Dan?" said Cheech. "You ah turnin'."

"Wohhhhhh!" came the collective cry. And it was Dante's turn to flush.

"'skins' bawl," said Tony, signalling as a referee would.

Suspense mounted as the others awaited a response from Dante. None came.

"Petey's the only one heah who could get in dat place, anyway" said Cheech.

Sandy craned his neck, gazing along the corridor. "Wheah is he? Call 'im ova."

"Not dat Petey. Dis one."

Embarassed, Pete concentrated his gaze at his magazine.

"Him?" said Sandy. "Get-at'!"

"Bet ya a hundred right now. C'mon, Petey, whip it out. We'll split the money."

"Dat's big'a ya," said Tony. "'scuse the ickspresshin."

Pete turned red, avoided eye contact.

"We'll awl t'row in," said Sandy. "C'mon."

"An' he says I'm turnin'," said Dante quietly. "He's prob'bly got a woody."

The others fell about. Sandy feigned laughter sourly and stared at Pete.

"Whattaya workin' heah for, jerko? If I was hung like dat I'd be gettin' sucked fer a livin'."

"An' get AIDS?" said Dante.

"Again wit' dat? Name one porno chick dat got it. He might get it from one'a his boyfrien's, but not from dem. What a waste. Hah come the mammalukes got awl the luck?"

"If dat stuff about Madonna's true, hah come it ain't in the paypiz? She's got dose lowlife paparazzis followin' 'er whereva she goes. No way she could keep somethin' like dat a secret. Somebody'd have pickchiz, an' the magazines'd killin' each otha to put 'em out, jus' like wit' dat Miss America."

"Anotha zam disgrace."

"What a comeback she made," said Pete.

"My wife loves 'er," said Tony.

"Even though I don't like her music, I have to say she has a great voice. For once a Miss America had real talent."

Dante addressed Cheech. "Ya shaw it wasn't one'a dem crazy broads who dress up like Madonna?"

"Or a guy," said Tony, chuckling.

"Deah wa bodygods awl ova."

"Maybe she jus' went atta curiousidy an' jus' watched," said Dante.

"Yeah, right." Cheech looked at Pete, who averted his gaze. "You should go deah every night wit' a cam'ra. Imagine the money yi'd make if ya got a shot'a her gettin' it on."

"Dey might bend 'im ova an' fill 'im up wit' AIDS," said Tony. "'magine a sozzeach like dat up ya goul. My hemmorhoids'a actin' up jus' thinkin' about it."

Everyone cringed.

"She'll neva go back," said Dante. "Once it got out, she couttn't. She's a pig, but she ain't dumb. An' I still don' think she'd risk killin' 'erself. She's too smaht fuh dat."

"But people still have unprotected sex," said Pete. "Even with all the information out there."

Dante shook his head. "It's dat crazy bug inside us."

"What bug?" said Sandy. "What's he tawkin' about?"

"Maybe she makes 'em weah condims," said Tony. "I prefah Rough Ridahs myself."

The affected delivery, the impromptu plug for a product that only a few years ago no one would have expected to be marketed and endorsed openly, set everyone sniggering. What made it even funnier was the stature of the spokesman: short, squat, balding, middle-aged.

"It's about time you stahted usin 'em," said Sandy. "Hah many kids you got?"

"Six, I think. I lose track."

"Hah d'ya stay so fat feedin' six kids?" said Cheech.

"What makes ya think dey see any'a the food?" said Sandy. "Eva see 'is kids?" He held an index finger aloft to illustrate the point, then sucked in his cheeks. "De'ah awl bones. Dey look like dose kids in the pickchiz'a Africa."

Even Tony laughed at this.

"I ain't gotta weah 'im no maw, dank God. Millie went t'rough 'er change. Good thing too. I could neva find 'em big enough. I was awways bustin' t'rough. Why d'ya think I got so many kids?"

Even Ben lost it at this absurd vulgarity.

"Meanwhile," said Pete, suddenly serious: "I read the other day that condoms leak twenty-percent of the time. That's scary."

"Yeah?" said Dante, his thoughts immediately of his son, whose sex life continued to be a revolving door. "Hah come dey neva tell us?"

"'cause the finauks don' want nobody to know," said Sandy. "Den people'd reahly be out fer 'em."

"I guess keepin' it in ya pants's the only way."

"Says who - priests? Dey should tawk, the way deah gettin' caught wit' altah boys. If awl dat's true, we'ah awl gonna die, 'cause nobody I know's gonna stop humpin'."

Now the mood was somber.

"Whatta we supposta do if some fox wants it?" said Sandy testily - "say 'no'? If Madonna was heah, I'd do 'er in a secon' in fronna awl'a yiz. I don' keah hah many guys she banged. Her videos get me so hot."

"Deah's anotha one who should be givin' millyins to AIDS," said Dante. "If she's wort' a hundred millyin, let 'er give ninedy-five up."

"She's awl bones now," said Tony, making a face.

"I'll give 'er a bone," said Cheech, grabbing his crotch. "The only thing dat turns me awf about 'er is dat ugly dyke she's suckin' awf."

Everyone but Dante grunted in assent.

"She is funny, though," said Pete.

"Funny lookin'," said Cheech. "I wouttn't do 'er wit' yaw sozzeach."

"It figyiz ya like 'er," said Snady. "Every time I see 'er face I wanna punch it - an' lately she's everywheah, ridin' on Madonna's coattails."

"See her body, though?" said Pete. "It's buffed. Madonna must be draggin' her to the gym."

"I'd still neva touch a mutt like dat. I don' know who's uglier, her aw dat otha matsa Crista with the gigantic schnozz. Both of 'em make me sick."

Silence fell. Dante broke it.

"Madonna does chicks?"

Sandy smirked. "Wheah you been? Dat's ol' news."

"What an igzample fuh kids."

Sandy waved as if it didn't matter. "Mos' girls ain't got the nerve aw the cash to live like her. She kin do anything she wants. Hah great mus' dat be?"

"She's leadin' a lotta kids wrawng. She might be a mass murderah by the time she's done, if she ain't awready."

"Whattaya tawkin' about?"

The others murmured skeptically as well.

"Hah many kids'a havin' sex 'cause dey wanna be like her? Hah many of 'em'a gonna get AIDS aw get pregnint aw go on Welfeah?"

"Why d'you always gotta exaggerate everything?" said Pete, exasperated. "You're gonna lay all that on her head? Gimme a break."

"Not awl of it, but she don' help things. Whattaya think, Benny?"

Sandy grunted disapprovingly. Ben put down the paper, which he'd stopped reading in order to enjoy the conversation. He removed his eyeglasses and slid them into the case clipped to his breast pocket. Sandy feigned a yawn.

"First off, Magic doesn't have AIDS. He's HIV-positive. That's the virus everyone who's ever died from AIDS's had. He may still live a long life. It doesn't kill everybody. As for Madonna, I don't think you can ever accurately gauge the effect of someone like her, but you can make the arguement that she is contributing to the moral decay of society."

Several of the men stirred impatiently.

"I can't make up my mind about her. Sometimes I look at the things she does and think we're very near the end of civilization. Here's this talented woman, stooping to the lowest common denominator. On the other hand, her music entertains and inspires millions. Does that balance the scale?"

"Inspyyiz to what?" said Dante. "You let ya daughtas watch 'er?"

Ben shrugged. "Sometimes I laugh and wonder if she's just helpin' us loosen up about things that're really no big deal, that we place way too much emphasis on. But if you measure it against teen pregnancies, divorce and AIDS, you could say she's guilty. Then again, maybe poverty, hand-outs, divorce, and the collapse of the public schools have more to do with that than any artist does."

"They do," said Pete emphatically.

"Maybe we're just in a period of painful adjustment that'll right itself in time. Maybe we'll look back and wonder how anything she did could've shocked us. Remember how shocked people were by Elvis? How innocent does all that seem now?"

"But wheah's it stop?" said Dante. "Dey gonna have porno sex on TV shows? Maybe dis's the fall'a the Roman empyya awl ova again."

"But it ain't like she's a porno queen," said Tony.

"That's what annoys me about her," said Ben. "When you break it down, her image is nothin' more than elaborate sozzeach teasin' as you guys might say. Publically, she's a fraud sexually. We don't know what she's really like privately, despite all the rumors. I have more respect for porn queens. They deliver. Madonna only pretends to. Wouldn't it be funny if she was really repressed when it came down to it?"

The others, except Cheech, who had resumed his obliviousness, grumbled skeptically.

"We'll never know. Remember, her goal is money and power. Where's a woman that wealthy and talented gonna find a guy her equal, who can go toe to toe with her, which's the only kind of sex that means anything? I'll believe she's really free sexually the day she smiles and holds up a picture of herself with a sozzeach in her mouth and white stuff dribblin' down her chin."

The others were speechless. Ben looked away, embarassed.

"That's the last time I'll ever try to be funny. It's just not me."

The silence was acute. Again Dante broke it.

"Ya saprise me, Benny. I neva heard ya tawk like dat, 'speshly 'bout a girl. See hah crazy the bootahna dee-owl gets us?"

"She plays us all like a fiddle," said Pete.

"I heah she's comin' out wit' a sex book," said Cheech, as if talking in his sleep.

"More sozzeach teasing?" said Ben. "The thing that gets me is that she's really talented. She should be above such nonsense."

"Talented?" said Cheech, irked.

"She is," said Pete. "She has a sweet voice. Range is so overrated. If we really wanted range, we'd all be listenin' to opera."

"Whatta you know?" said Sandy contemptuously.

"More than you'll ever know when it comes to music. I useta turn my nose up at her too, 'til I saw this one video where she plays a girl who was abused by her father while she was growin' up.* It's shot in this lush black 'n white. In this one scene she's standin' in the open doorway of a room her father's in, and the light behind her casts the image of a little girl between 'em. It's the most beautiful thing I ever saw. I get chills whenever I think about it."

His voice cracked.

"He's gonna cry!" Sandy mocked, and feigned wails.

The group was startled by a sudden, crisp clapping of hands. Everyone scrambled to his feet.

"Oh!" shouted Pete Sr.. "Oh! Sonuva bitch...."

In an instant, the area was clear.

"Cricesake...."

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