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UnevenEdge

Dumb shit from my pms


Mix

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The year was 1944. I was born in a small hospital just outside Bayonne, New Jersey. The president was Franklin D. Roosevelt and World War II was everywhere. It's all anyone talked about. Everyone but my father. He was a welder. He worked on the ships that came into the docks for repairs. All he cared about was sailing a ship of his own. "Around the world and back again," he would say. He never got to live his dream. It was Cancer that got him. Salvatore "Cancer" Leone, the youngest son of the Leone family and their primary enforcer. He stood at 4'9" tall, but no one dared mention it. His original nickname was Baby Face, but he killed anyone he heard call him that, so they took to calling him Cancer. As in, "that little fuck is such a cancer." He killed my father over a parking spot. Never knew his name. Never cared. My mother took me to live with her family in Sheboygan. That's where I grew up. A quiet and uneventful life. That is, till I turned eighteen, packed a suitcase with some clothes, the little money I had stashed away and my grandfather's Walther P38. I headed straight for New Jersey to put flowers on my dad's grave and to dig one for Cancer. No one would dare touch those guys in their own neighborhood. Not back then. He never saw it coming. Walking to his car, he was dead before his body hit the ground. His blood would color the very same parking spot that wore my father's. I've been on the run ever since. I never told my story before. It feels good to get it out. To see the words in front of me. I suppose it doesn't matter now, but I wanted someone else to know I did right by my father. I've never regretted what I did or any day since. 

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"Three days before his sentencing, scheduled for January 23, 1983, Allen Dorfman was murdered in the parking lot outside the Lincolnwood in Lincolnwood, Illinois. Described as a gangland-style execution, the murder was presumably intended to keep him from cooperating with authorities to avoid a possible 55-year prison sentence. He was with longtime friend Irwin Weiner, a known associate of many Chicago mob figures. Weiner was not injured in the incident." - fr Wikipedia

FYI - Lincolnwood Hyatt (aka "The Purple Hotel") was the first Hyatt owned by the Pritzker family.  It has been demolished.

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