"What a funny little man." He said.
"Who?" I asked him.
"That man over there, the one standing by the car." He said.
"Who? Him?" I asked.
"No, him." He told me.
He was referring to Tony "Tomatoes". They called him Tony Tomatoes because there was this one time, after a hit, Tony, Jimmy, Jake and me all went to a twenty four hour diner. We sat down and the waitress waddled over and asked Tony what the red stuff all over his shirt was. He said it was tomato sauce. It looked nothin' like tomato sauce.
"That's him, that's our Tony." I said.
"Oh." He told me, and took another bite out of his burrito.
Walter was a tall guy, freakishly tall, six foot seven. Ugly guy, was really hard to like at, at the same time it was also pretty hard to look away. Goofy bastard. That's what we called him, Goofy. He looked just like him, the teeth and everything.
"You never met Tony?" I asked Walter.
"Nah, never met him, he's a funny little man though."
"You're a lot funnier looking than he is." I told Walter.
Walter just laughed at me, he smacked me over the back of my head. I got pissed, but there was nothin' I could do. Walter could kick my ass, and I knew it, I ain't stupid. Even if Walter was a five foot three, scrawny little bastard like Tony, I still couldn't fuck with him. Tony's father is Gregory Kudovka. Rhymes with vodka, and Gregory Kudovka drinks vodka all the time, ironic isn't it? No, wait, ironic would be if he didn't drink vodka, right? Russians with their vodka, y'know why they all drink vodka? Cuz it's cheap, and most of the Russians I know hate jews, there, now that's ironic. Anyways, like I said, Gregory Kudovka is Walter's father, Gregory was ex-KGB, that means he's a real dough boy hating, communist cock sucking, Cossack hard ass. Refused to learn English when he came here, he's been here twenty years and still refuses to learn English, has an interprator workin' for him, can ya believe that? I can, cuz I've met the prick, real asshole. He's my boss. That's why I can't touch Walter Kudovka, his real first name is Boris. Anyone who makes light of this gets a free lesson with the stick of wisdom. A baton Walter carries around under his Alfani jacket. I asked him why he didn't just buy a whole Armani suite, god knows he could afford it. That was the day he introduced me to the stick of wisdom. Then he scolded me for thinking I was so smart about fashion.
"Are you one of those fashion faggots?" he asked me that day.
"No," I said, swallowing mouthfuls of my own blood.
"Then shutup about my clothes." He told me, in his stupid, thick Russian accent.
Walter and I approached Tony, Walter finished his burrito and smiled. He smelled like a fuckin' wetback who just crawled onto the shores of southern Texas.
"You are Peter's friend, yes?"
"Yeah." Said Tony, not intimidated at all by Walter's size. Not because he was brave, but because he was really fuckin' stupid, not like there's much difference.
"Come for ride, yes?" he asked Tony.
"Yeah, sure." Said Tony.
"Hey Tone." I said.
"Hey Pete." He said back and shook my hand, then gave me a hug.
We got into Walter's car. I drove. I've known Tony since I was a kid, we were on the same little league team. He fucked this girl I liked in high school, her name was Jenny, god I loved that girl. Tony told me about it the next day when we were on line to take our freshman yearbook pictures. Later on that day I went up to her, I said "Jenny, what the fuck's the matter with you, I've been asking you out all year and you don't even know Tony, and you fuck him? What's the matter with you?" I remember that day so perfectly, I was wearing my nicest slacks and my favorite looney tunes tie, and she was dressed in a black mini-skirt the fuckin' slut, I liked it though, she looked good in it, I like sluts, but anyways I was standin' there waiting for her to respond, and y'know what she said to me? She said "Tony's a real man, he knows how to treat a lady." So after she tells me this I stand there, perplexed, just tryin' to imagine Tony, this five foot tall little rodent on top of Jen who was five foot six, just poundin' away his little white gary coleman lookin' like face all red and and sweaty and I punched her right in her fuckin' face. I got suspended, but that's enough about that. I love Tony, I really do, he's my best fuckin' friend, my best friend in the whole world. Did I tell ya about the time he saved my life? Oh no, wait that was my other friend Jake. Jake's an asshole though, he always brings ya down when you're around him, not Tony though, no way, Tony made you feel like a million bucks just by standin' next to you, always smilin', and quick with a joke or to light up your smoke, like a bartender, a really fuckin' friendly bartender, that's what he reminds me of.
Anyways Walter tells me to pull up behind this warehouse, then he takes out a gun and blows Tony's fuckin' brains out all over the place. Once again, Tony's shirt is all red with blood, this time it's his though.
"Tony Tomatos" I say out loud.
"What?" said Walter.
"Nothin', you stupid fuckin' Russian." I said, well, I didn't say you stupid fuckin' Russian, but I thought it. Me and Walter got out of the car and tied a cement block to Tony's feet and tossed him into the river behind the warehouse. Walter wanted to cut him up into tiny little pieces but I couldn't do that to my best friend, my best friend in the whole world.
Plus I always wanted to do that, with the cement block and all. After we finished doin' that we drove back to Gregory's mansion.
I don't know why Gregory wanted my best friend dead, but he did.
Good old Tony Tomatos. My best friend in the whole world.
(Copyright 2003 Ray Soltani. All rights reserved)
