The Christmas Spirit of Two Tonys
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." Has his own brand of philosophy. Recently diagnosed with cancer and has months to live.
“Howthafuck was your Christmas?” Two Tonys asked.
“Not bad,” I said. “I got an unexpected visit from Royo Girl over the weekend, which gave me a boost. I got a little kissing action in. How was your Christmas?”
“Good,” Two Tonys said, “’cause I ain’t got no beefs. Lemmeaskyasomethin’: you ever heard of Chad or Somalia or Sudan?”
“Well how nice a fuckin’ Christmas do you think those poor motherfuckers had? Do you know how many pieces of apple pie I got?”
“Three, and two issues of roast beef. It might have looked like shoe leather and tasted like shoe leather, but that’s OK 'cause guess what?”
“Ivan Denisovich woulda snorted those motherfuckers up with his left nostril and been as happy as if he were havin’ supper with Mikhail fuckin’ Gorbachev. That’s my barometer now: how rough Ivan had it. Imagine bein’ happy to lick some carrot gruel off a spoon. Or havin’ to ride the cook’s leg to come up on some extra gills and tails in yer fish-eyeball soup. Or Slingblade grabbin’ yer bowl of groats mush, and you’ve gotta go toe to toe with that fuckin’ Neanderthal or starve to fuckin’ death. My point is this: howthafuck can I complain when there’s always someone worse off? Of course I’d like to be chowin’ down on a Caesar salad, some escargot, a little bowl of scungille, and some ravioli stuffed with spinach. But I ain’t gonna let those thoughts get me down.”
“What did you do on Christmas Day?”
“Played a little casino card game with Frankie. Watched a little TV. Sang some fuckin’ Christmas carols to myself: Silent Night, Jingle Bells, and all that shit. Howthafuck can I get depressed in here? This is my retirement home. Not just any motherfucker qualifies to be in here you know. You don’t just hop on a bus and say, ‘Driver, take me to the big house.’ This is an exclusive club. You’ve got to put some serious work in to get here. And what’s good about it is they can’t ever kick me out, 'cause I’m doin’ life. If things get shitty in here I just tell myself, ‘Get a grip, man. What would Ivan Denisovich be thinkin? Would he be raisin’ hell about his waffles bein’ cold in the mornin?' Would he fuck. Like I’ve said before, that’s PMA, bro. That’s a positive mental attitude."
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