Saturday, December 6, 2008

Running Numbers: The Canal Locks

Lowell, Massachusetts. 1958.
Business is good. The boy brings money to his mother every week. His mother doesn’t ask questions.

It is particularly cold this morning as the boy walks to work. He tucks his head down further in his coat and scans the ground for black ice. He is concentrating so hard on the ground that at first he doesn’t notice the five police cars that are parked outside the shop. He looks up and sees a group of police standing near the back of the store. They are looking down at the canal.

The boy knows immediately, his boss is dead.

He walks past the store and continues along the canal. A half-mile away the boy pulls the revolver that his boss gave him from his coat pocket. He casually tosses the gun into the canal as if it were a stone.

The boy’s boss has been found at the bottom of the canal, 30 feet down, wedged between the canal locks.

The police rule it a suicide.

"They whacked him. They fucking whacked him. I can't fucking believe it." -Goodfellas


SassyTwoSocks said...

Ok. Either two things are going on here. 1) By your profile pic, you look like a young whippersnapper, so these stories are a) made up, or b) from your dad/grandpa. Or 2) You just posted a cute little pic from your youth and you were actually alive and mature enough to carry a gun around in 1958. Hmmmm? I am perplexed...

KMcJoseph said...

I didn't say it was me. If the story is about me I say "I".

I'm only 30, people in my family have had interesting lives also. The sea stories are me though.