Excerpt from "Revenge Is a Sucker's Game"
“I don’t see Blackie anywhere.” I said to the bartender more as a question.
“You might ask Whitey.”
Whitey was Blackie’s younger brother. A three hundred pound momma’s boy, he used to be called Fats. When his mother passed away from an unfortunate tumble down the basement stairs, Fats went to the cemetery every day where he would cry and tell her what had happened the day before, which was nothing. One of the crying spells went on so long they locked the cemetery gates on him and Fats had to spend the night alone in the dark. When they let him out in the morning his hair had turned completely white. After that people started called him Whitey and, crazy as it may sound, the moniker stuck.
“You might ask Whitey.”
Whitey was Blackie’s younger brother. A three hundred pound momma’s boy, he used to be called Fats. When his mother passed away from an unfortunate tumble down the basement stairs, Fats went to the cemetery every day where he would cry and tell her what had happened the day before, which was nothing. One of the crying spells went on so long they locked the cemetery gates on him and Fats had to spend the night alone in the dark. When they let him out in the morning his hair had turned completely white. After that people started called him Whitey and, crazy as it may sound, the moniker stuck.
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