Poetry

Disloyalty and dat loyalty

By: Alan Berger

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Of course they grew up together on the same block and were closer than the brothers and sisters

that they were dealt.

Mike and Paul, Paul and mike.

Of course, yeah sure.

Both of their fathers were in jail. Big deal, who wasn’t?

On election day they stayed away and said fuck you suckers.

It was a business of fellowship and loyalty.

Sure it was.

What it was, was, getting a call to come see someone who would tell you to stab your mother in

the eye and you would be thankful for the nod and the job.

Of course you would. Who wouldn’t?

I’ll tell you who wouldn’t.

Me. And, I didn’t.

Paul was the good looking charming one.

Too good looking, and too fucking charming.

This was all about a guys girlfriend mentioning Paul was cute with her eyes.

That’s all it was, that’s all it was about.

That’s what I thought at first, but there was more.

But why me?

His closet friend?

Oh I get it, get us both together when I go to tell Paul and shoot us both.

I mean, don’t they know I wouldn’t fall for it?

Could they be that dumb?

Yes, they can.

And could I be this stupid.

What if they do just want him to go away, and not me?

I could advance like all the others who gave way to treachery.

It was at Thanksgiving dinner at our bosses and we stopped by me and Paul did.

It wasn’t with the bosses’ family. It was at his girls house, and she gave Paul a look when they

both opened the door on the festive holiday that said fuck the turkey, I want to fuck this guy, and

by the time she walked back all 266 muscles in her face, it was too late.

I thought it didn’t get him a gold star that day but not this.

Fuck.

I was supposed to do it that night while he walked his dog. Shoot the mutt too if you can. He was

serious.

So was I.

Plus I had to bring a witness that would kill me after I popped Paul.

Fuck.

There goes my life.

I went to see the assignment.

“Yeah man, we’ve been fucking. Of course she was surprised to see me at the door with him

there and me and you standing there”.

Are you out of your ass?

“No, I’m in hers, and we are in love, and all that counts is who gets the girl’?

That’s nice. How about who gets the bullet?

I’ll show you who gets the first one.

A guy on the street was waved up from the window of the hit that he was supposed to verify after

the hit was over.

He crossed the street and went up the stairs of the assignments building, and after he was let in to

see the body, he was shot in the head.

Twice.

They we came out and got into a car and drove off.

He was pooling in his Long Island back yard, and was wondering how the hit was going,

although why the Hell should he? They all go good and he did send one of his sons along just to

make sure

He’s a good kid.

Loyal.

He wanted, just for a second, or two, that he would ask for the head to be brought back like in the

days of Kings and Emperors.

But his sons/ word would be enough.

His wife was in Europe buying antiques to bring back and class up the joint, and he was in the

backyard pool, swimming and sloshing about naked.

We invited ourselves over and after eliminating his bodyguards we hit the pool and what was in

it.

Paul appreciated the loyalty.

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Categories: Poetry

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