The Art of Disposal Read Online Free PDF Page A
Author: John Prindle
chairs, the kind you might see in a high school gym teacher's office. Dan the Man walked away. He took my spot at the window and I could hear him breathing, warm and airy and angry.
“It's like this,” I said to Gideon. “You got into an arrangement with Eddie Sesto. You know who Eddie Sesto is?”
“Sure I do, Ronnie.” Gideon was sitting like a slacker against a brick wall, knees propped up, hands dangling over them. He was glad to see me. I wasn't as scary as Dan the Man.
“Eddie runs a big part of the city. Now, we ain't New York and we never will be. But Eddie's boss runs a big part of New York. You ever hear of Frank Conese? What I'm trying to say is this. Eddie wants his money. He cut you plenty of breaks. You could have stopped taking the envelopes if there weren't enough cars coming through.”
“I know, I know, but it's like, my daughters and my wife, and—”
“—eh eh eh,” I said. “This is what me and Dan do. We collect. All day, every day. We've heard all the sob stories. Same goddamn thing every day. Then a guy like you makes me have to do things I don't like to do. Some guys get off on ripping out a guy's fingernails. Putting a bullet into a kneecap. Not me. I like aquariums. You ever had a fish tank?”
Gideon shook his head back and forth.
“Well, it's a great hobby. Relaxing. That's why they have 'em in dentist's offices and stuff. It's a fact: watching an aquarium lowers your blood pressure.”
“I should get two of 'em,” Dan the Man said.
I looked right into Gideon Cash's bruised-up mug. “Tell you what I'm gonna do. Deal of the century. You give us half. Four point five. I smooth it over with Eddie, get you another few days to come up with the rest.”
“Thanks Ronnie,” Gideon said, “but I don't even have that much. Wish to hell I did.”
I rubbed my hands across my knees. “How much can you get us?”
It took Gideon about ten whole seconds to finally spit out an answer, and since he was looking over at Dan the Man the whole time he was thinking about it, I knew his figure wouldn't be anything close to what Eddie needed.
“Seven hundred,” he finally said. “I'll go with you guys to the ATM right now. It's the last of my money, but you can have it.”
“How's a guy like you end up in a spot like this?” I said. “You were making good money.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “I got problems.”
“You sure do,” Dan the Man said, rolling up his shirt sleeves.
I put my face in my hands and rubbed my eyes. By the time I looked up, Dan the Man had Gideon pinned under his left leg. Gideon looked like a rat on a glue trap, fighting and shuddering, but unable to go anywhere. Then Dan reached into the messenger bag and brought out a pair of small pruning scissors. He tossed them to me and I caught them perfectly. I unlocked the safety and squeezed them open and shut a few times. They put off an oily smell.
Gideon Cash screamed for help. Dan put a hand over his mouth so that all you heard was this muffled wailing, like a guy calling up from the bottom of a well. Gideon's arms flailed about, so Dan switched it up and placed a knee on each arm and let all of his weight do the work.
“This one's a fighter,” he said, like he was talking about some catfish flopping around at the side of a boat.
“Finger or toe?” I said to Gideon. I squeezed the pruning scissors a few times so he could hear their oily squeaking.
Dan the Man took his hand away from Gideon's mouth.
“Don't do it. Please!” he said.
“I'd go with a toe,” I said. “Man wears shoes most the time anyways.”
He hollered out help, hellllpppp before Dan the Man smooshed his hand over his mouth again.
“Guess he agrees with you,” he said. “Take off his shoe.”
Once I had his right shoe and sock off—and it took a bit of work—Dan the Man said how we should clip the second toe, because it was longer than the first and looked pretty weird.
“They say that's a sign of intelligence: when
“It's like this,” I said to Gideon. “You got into an arrangement with Eddie Sesto. You know who Eddie Sesto is?”
“Sure I do, Ronnie.” Gideon was sitting like a slacker against a brick wall, knees propped up, hands dangling over them. He was glad to see me. I wasn't as scary as Dan the Man.
“Eddie runs a big part of the city. Now, we ain't New York and we never will be. But Eddie's boss runs a big part of New York. You ever hear of Frank Conese? What I'm trying to say is this. Eddie wants his money. He cut you plenty of breaks. You could have stopped taking the envelopes if there weren't enough cars coming through.”
“I know, I know, but it's like, my daughters and my wife, and—”
“—eh eh eh,” I said. “This is what me and Dan do. We collect. All day, every day. We've heard all the sob stories. Same goddamn thing every day. Then a guy like you makes me have to do things I don't like to do. Some guys get off on ripping out a guy's fingernails. Putting a bullet into a kneecap. Not me. I like aquariums. You ever had a fish tank?”
Gideon shook his head back and forth.
“Well, it's a great hobby. Relaxing. That's why they have 'em in dentist's offices and stuff. It's a fact: watching an aquarium lowers your blood pressure.”
“I should get two of 'em,” Dan the Man said.
I looked right into Gideon Cash's bruised-up mug. “Tell you what I'm gonna do. Deal of the century. You give us half. Four point five. I smooth it over with Eddie, get you another few days to come up with the rest.”
“Thanks Ronnie,” Gideon said, “but I don't even have that much. Wish to hell I did.”
I rubbed my hands across my knees. “How much can you get us?”
It took Gideon about ten whole seconds to finally spit out an answer, and since he was looking over at Dan the Man the whole time he was thinking about it, I knew his figure wouldn't be anything close to what Eddie needed.
“Seven hundred,” he finally said. “I'll go with you guys to the ATM right now. It's the last of my money, but you can have it.”
“How's a guy like you end up in a spot like this?” I said. “You were making good money.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “I got problems.”
“You sure do,” Dan the Man said, rolling up his shirt sleeves.
I put my face in my hands and rubbed my eyes. By the time I looked up, Dan the Man had Gideon pinned under his left leg. Gideon looked like a rat on a glue trap, fighting and shuddering, but unable to go anywhere. Then Dan reached into the messenger bag and brought out a pair of small pruning scissors. He tossed them to me and I caught them perfectly. I unlocked the safety and squeezed them open and shut a few times. They put off an oily smell.
Gideon Cash screamed for help. Dan put a hand over his mouth so that all you heard was this muffled wailing, like a guy calling up from the bottom of a well. Gideon's arms flailed about, so Dan switched it up and placed a knee on each arm and let all of his weight do the work.
“This one's a fighter,” he said, like he was talking about some catfish flopping around at the side of a boat.
“Finger or toe?” I said to Gideon. I squeezed the pruning scissors a few times so he could hear their oily squeaking.
Dan the Man took his hand away from Gideon's mouth.
“Don't do it. Please!” he said.
“I'd go with a toe,” I said. “Man wears shoes most the time anyways.”
He hollered out help, hellllpppp before Dan the Man smooshed his hand over his mouth again.
“Guess he agrees with you,” he said. “Take off his shoe.”
Once I had his right shoe and sock off—and it took a bit of work—Dan the Man said how we should clip the second toe, because it was longer than the first and looked pretty weird.
“They say that's a sign of intelligence: when