Legos brings a can cheap beer to the table. He sets it in front of Joey.
Joey hands him two dollars. “Keep the change.”
“The beer costs two dollars,” says Legos.
“They give us better beer at Bridgewater. It comes in brown bottle with a twist off cap and it don’t cost me nothing,” says Joey.
“This gives me an idea,” says Tony. “What if I steal a car and turn myself in, will they send me to Bridgewater? It’ll get me out of my mom’s house, and I don’t have to become a priest.”
Tina looks at Legos, “What is it about this table? Is there anyone here who can carry a conversation on for more than three sentences?”
Legos says, “You talking about these guys?”
Tina nods, “Uh huh.”
Legos says, “You’re lucky if you get three consecutive complete sentences.” He turns and walks back to the bar.
Tina glances down at Dog. Dog is staring at Nick. Tina says, “I don’t know what Dog sees in you. He must see something I don’t see.”
Nick says, “Dog loves me cause I love you. Dog can tell if someone is good or bad.”
Legos says, “Dog smells the jerky in your pocket. It’s not the only jerky he smells.”
Nick says, “Nice, Legos. Tinzi, this morning you were online looking for places we can go on our honeymoon. What happened?”
Tina says, “When I said how about, Acapulco, you said you were afraid of diving off the cliffs. When I said Puerto Rico, you said you can’t speak Polish. When I said Italy, you said the neighborhood is the same thing. When I said Cancun, you said you don’t want to catch cancer. That’s what happened.”
“I was hoping you was gonna say let’s go to a Sox game for our honeymoon,” says Nick.
Tina points to the Jack Daniels bottle and says, “You see Jack Daniels? He’s gonna whack you across the head if you give me one more excuse.”
“I thought we was gonna talk about me getting out of my mom’s house. What about my idea of stealing a car to get in Bridgewater?” says Tony.
“That’s true, Tinzi. You gotta wait your turn. It’s what we do at this table,” says Nick.
A light red turning brighter by the second gradually spreads over the black tarantula tattoo on the back of Tina’s neck. It continues to spread like an onrushing tidal wave to the front of her neck working its way up her neck onto her face.
“Watch it guys, Tinzi’s gonna blow. I seen this once before and it ain’t pretty. Somebody is gonna get hurt,” says Nick.
The door to The Lucky Canary swings open and a short, gray haired guy wearing a twenty-year-old golfing cap and thick plastic black rimmed glasses steps in.
“The usual, Tuna?” says Legos.