Little Casino

The chums of 6B4

MARIO WORE RUBBERS TO SCHOOL EVERY day, for the uppers of his shoes were cracked and split, and the soles worn all the way through. He could have chosen not to wear rubbers, of course, for this was, even in the thirties, America, and freedom, enough to choke a horse, was in the unfailing ascendant. An unkind youth with a belief in his own superiority once thought to bait him about these rubbers, industrial rubbers, as they surely were, slaughterhouse rubbers, with their unmistakable thick red soles. The rage that he saw within Mario’s tautly held body dissuaded him, however, and warned him away. A lot of the boys in class, knowing of his plans, were disappointed, because they hoped that maybe Mario would, in the parlance of the day, clean the little bastard’s fucking clock. Maybe, God willing, even kill him. Nobody would miss him, least of all the chums of 6B4.

“I wish that all the pain that _____ is feeling could be visited, in spades,

on my worst enemy,” is a refreshing phrase. If one can’t wish one’s enemies misery or death, what is the use of sin and redemption?

Follow the leader: Mario, after his bitter childhood years of poverty, which he shared with his older brother, Mike, followed Mike and Mike’s wife, Connie, to Trenton, NJ, for God knows what reason. They may still live there, doing the Jersey bounce.

It is generally agreed, or so I understand, that the word “chum” is no longer in general use, save for ironic or parodic affect. It functions, that is, much like the well-made short story.

“Of which we’ve read, ah, plenty.”