From Two Tonys (Letter 12)
Two Tonys - A whacker of men and Mafia associate serving multiple life sentences for murders and violent crimes. Left bodies from Tucson to Alaska, but claims all his victims "had it coming." Recently diagnosed with liver cancer, and is in chemotherapy fighting to prolong his life.
What can I say? Let me start with sorry I haven’t written to you sooner.
Now let’s move on with an update on my condition. Obviously I’m still kicking and fighting this cancer. I had a real bad time a while back with that chemo and shit. It’s a bad motherfucker. But I didn’t lay down on it. I’m still battling. Like your Liverpool lads sang, “I get by with a little help from my friends.” And you’re one of those friends.
I received all your mail and always intended to answer, but I’m pretty whacked out on this morphine, so let me try to make up for it. I’m glad to see you are moving up in the literary world. I knew you would as long as you kept your head and heart on the prize. This is good and I’m very proud of you.
Hey mate, Frankie and me kick it a lot. You’re with us and it’s all good positive rap. No bad shit do I allow to come to me. I’ve got PMA, and this is 10 months I’ve been in the fight, which was supposed to be over 6 months in. I know I can’t cure this, but I can do my best to hang out. I don’t want to make this a snivel letter. Me and Frankie will keep in touch. No more long spells of silence.
I’m sure up about my dawg Frankie being here. I catch him trying to baby me like I’m an old broke-dick cancer patient. Well, he’s right on one of them. 1 out of 2 ain’t bad. I check him. I tell him I’ll kick his ass if he keeps it up. He’s to treat me as always. No pity. No empathy, or any of that bullshit.
Yeah, mate, I’ve got good memories of you. You came along and enriched my fucked up life. I’m grateful for that. I’ll write you more because I seem to be doing a lot better.
I never heard from Jim Hogg. He sent me a postcard saying he sent me some $, but I never got it. No big deal. I never asked for him to do that. I hope he’s OK. I’ve still got love for him.
Hey bro, I’ve got this funny feeling I’m holding this cancer at bay by keeping my spirit up and not giving up. There’s something to that. I visit my Dr. for the big C in December. I’ll keep you posted.
So allow me to give a big shout out to you, your fam, and all of our blog readers who thought to give an old fuck such as me a nice thought and a prayer.
I quit the chemo, bro. It was too much of a robber on quality days. I’d rather have quality than quantity. The Grim Reaper ain’t shit. Good friends and good thoughts and memories along with a few prayers, and who knows, shit does happen.
I haven’t been reading too much. But I get this magazine, Vanity Fair. My kid sends it to me. I told her, “Hey! That’s a broad’s mag.” She laughs and tells me a lot of men read it. So I don’t give a fuck. If my kid wants me to read it, I read it. Now I’m enjoying it. Good articles.
Her and my grand babies are doing good. She’s got a good solid decent old man, and I’ll die happy and relieved because they’re all good and safe.
Hey, I’ll cut this short. You give my Love & Respect to Mom, Pop’s and baby sis, and keep a big slice for yourself, me lad from over the pond. I’ll write more next time.
You stay strong and healthy.
Click here to read Letter 11.
Two Tonys is dying, and really appreciates your comments.
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Shaun P. Attwood