|
01.
Prelude / 8:07 AM |
06.
8:39 AM |
|
01.
Prelude / 8:07 AM |
06.
8:39 AM |
8:11 AM
Raphael kicked open the door of the "Torchy’s" pub and angrily stormed back out onto the street. A couple of burly, thoroughly-tattooed men poked their heads out of the door and then went back inside, satisfied, as if checking to see if Raphael had truly left.
"I’ve been coming to this same frigging place with Casey for something like the past five years... and today is the day they finally decide to card me!" he shouted. "Damn!"
What’s a Turtle got to do to get a freakin’ early mornin’ brewsky? Christ... ain’t this a bitch...
As he contemplated the embarrassing thought of possibly having April or Casey go out to buy him some beer, Raphael nearly tripped over an older, bearded man sitting on the sidewalk as he rounded the street corner.
Raphael was startled. The man’s wrinkled, soiled face contorted into something resembling a smile, though he had noticeably had no teeth. He seemed disheveled, almost certainly homeless, he had long greasy white hair and wore tattered jeans as well as a black "I Love N.Y." T-shirt. "Could be a lot worse, partner!" the man quipped, then laughed drunkenly.
Raph scoffed at the man. "Yeah, up yours, too, buddy."
"Have it your way, greenie! I wush going to share my special brew with you, help-a-brother-in-need kinda thing, but now... pshaw..."
Raph harrumphed. "All right, all right, what do you got, old timer?"
"Well, letshee here..." The disheveled man produced a mostly-full 24 oz. bottle with no label, with yellow-orange contents not too unlike urine at a first glance. "It’s not Crystile, it sure ain’t no vintage... but I’ll tell you what, greenie, it sure will keep you warm at night!" He began his hoarse, rather obnoxious laughter again.
Well, if it’s between this or bugging April or Casey... er, okay, it’s a close one. "If it was any other day but this..." Raphael made a face, snatched the bottle from the man, and took enough swigs to leave it at only a quarter of its original contents before returning it. He gave a burp, shook his head violently, then clapped the man on the back. If he had to guess, he would suspect the liquid in the bottle was something of a "grog," a mix of various liquors and beers put into a melting pot to make something else entirely, rarely something desirable. "Hot damn, mister... definitely not a vintage."
"Heheh, ’at’s the spirit, greenie! You’re all right in my book!"
Raph wiped at his mouth. "Heh, yeah, all right... be seeing you." Tossing a crumpled up twenty bill on the old-timer’s lap, he continued on his way.
Ah, New York, New York...
There was always something to be said about the tranquility of Northampton, but there was never truly any substitute for the Big Apple in Raphael’s book.
[ FIRST CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER | BACK TO MENU ]