Mugsy and me

Mugsy was an idiot.

He’d always been one.  Ever since the day I’d met that fat kid, his pants so tight he wore them below his gut.  They were the only pair he had for years, his mom just barely keeping her son fed, she just couldn’t afford to get him anything else. But she was a piece, that mom of his.  A real caring lady that one.  She coddled that sack of hers everyday of her life like he’d just come out of her.  When she died he became my weight.  I ‘d never known what a tub he was until that day.  But I jump ahead, let me cut back a bit. Continue reading