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- Written by: Rod Boyle
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He's in the center of the lobby, tiled marble floor, cup of espresso in one hand, cigarette in the other, owner of the restaurant in his chef whites, by some strange coincidence I know yet another of his children, a neighbor who lived beneath me in my old apartment on 17th Avenue, he reminisces about her, her secret marriage to Santino which if he'd known about he'd have stopped, he pauses for a moment to reflect before exclaiming loudly:
"I should have drowned them all when they was born. All four of them."
He pauses a moment, sips his espresso, takes a drag on his cigarette, then adds:
"Their mother too."
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We're sitting down before the shift and eating dinner. It's a ritual in the old-school Italian restaurants....
The owner's son is there, chatting, he's very lively. Good looking, 26 years old, he's trying to sell us helicopters he's found in the back of his roommates "Soldier of Fortune" magazine. Helicopters, $50.00, Jeeps, $25.00, the US government is selling them off cheap....
Now I know he's talking about the Army Surplus, and since I've got that Helicopter Pilot's helmet (which I grossly overpaid for, but I'm a safety-first kinda guy) I think "Why not" and I offer to buy 2 helicopters. $100.00. He promises to bring me in the magazine, but I don't want it. I just want the helicopters. I offer him a hundred and fifty, so he can buy one for himself, let him deal with the paperwork and ordering, and now he's backpedaling.... His father just ignores us.
The next night, dinner again, we're talking about the gun control laws, the 1 billion wasted on the gun registry, the owner is telling us how anyone can get a gun, heck, he can get me any gun I want in 2 days, with silencer and everything, brought across from the border....
And I'm thinking to myself, "Great, throw in a couple of Glocks with silencers with the helicopters and I'll pay $200...".
But I don't say anything. I'm new, and I haven't tested his sense of humor yet. He seems pretty dry.
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He's introduced himself, and by way of conversation tells me that "I remind him of Alfred Hitchcock".
My curiosity is piqued, I haven't yet been warned by the other staff; and so I ask him what it is about me that could possibly remind him of Alfred Hitchcock - my pointy nose? My somewhat portly carriage? My balding head?
"No, no, no, it's just something about your demeanor...." he tells me.
"So you're a film buff I presume?" I parry.
"No" he replies.
Later I overhear him on the phone with his mother. His father owns the restaurant, he works here as a sort of errand boy, dishwasher, prep-cook, whatever.
"I want to ask him Mom but you know how Dad is about giving raises....And I haven't worked here a year yet...."
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"Get me a bill" he says, and I'm a little embarrassed, because really I don't want to be showing my bills to anyone.
"96 is the Fix" he says, and he's quite insistent, and I ask him to explain, is it some sort of radio contest that pays your bills? But he's acting all enigmatic, there's no fobbing him off, so I pick up one of the many unopened bills that litter my desk and hand it to him. It's a gas bill, overdue 3 months, final notice, but I know they can't cut me off 'cause it's the middle of winter and so this is a bill that can wait...
"See? 96 is the Fix" He points to the lower right part of the bill, and sure enough there's a number 96 there.
"Now all you have to do is circle this and write above it to charge it to your Social Insurance Number, then send it back to them. There was an account created in your name when you were born. The government borrowed millions of dollars with only your birth certificate for collateral. Once they have it they'll stop sending you bills...."
"How do you know this?" I interrupt, not to be skeptical but I am somehow.
"Been doing some research on the internet. There might be something else you have to write in addition to your Social Insurance Number, I'm not sure what it is...But as soon as I saw it I thought of you, with all your bills and all...."
"Have you tried it?" I ask.
"Not yet."
Now in ordinary times this would be a great idea. Not because I'm thinking it'll work, but I'd like to see the Utility company's reply. A David Thorne style correspondence ensues, in which I enlighten the utility agents as to my rights as a free citizen, the history of Freemasonry and the Conspiracies of Rome.
"Why 96?" I ask.
"I don't know..... I'm pretty sure it's Latin for something...."
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He's waiting for me in front of the cafe, his coffee resting on the hood of his car.
There's been a chinook, it's warm outside, the clouds have been blown ragged by the westerly winds. He's shielding his eyes from the sun and looking into the sky.
"They're spraying again...." he begins.
I look up into the sky, the contrails, like the clouds, have been blown ragged by the chinook winds.
"Chemtrails" he offers by way of explanation, but I didn't need one. "They're spraying. Look at it. Barium, Aluminum, microscopic bits of plastic, dessicated red blood cells...".
I don't want to encourage him, but the plastic, the red blood cells, that's got me curious....
"Shall we have a cigarette?" He's got my coffee already and we go around the side of the cafe to smoke.
He's looking at the sky. Shielding his eyes, explaining to me how you can tell a chemtrail from a contrail. I try to draw the line, the perfect balance between a polite level of interest and changing the topic...
An older couple approach, they want to tie their dog to the trash where we're smoking, we stand back, he points to the sky, they turn to look...
"They're spraying again. Chemtrails. Poisonous chemicals. Barium, Aluminum. Plastic. Dessicated red blood cells...."
They look back at him, quizically.
"It's all online. They're trying to poison us. Weaken our immune system. It's part of a trillion dollar top secret military project based out of Dayton, Ohio."
The woman interrupts. "You're joking, aren't you?"
I'm standing back, beside him, trying to signal her with my eyes, my face, don't want to give anything away, hoping he doesn't see....
Her partner sees my face and touches her on the elbow.
"You can look it up online. You should know this stuff. Don't get the H1N1 vaccine. They're trying to kill us. Part of the plan, kill all the people, then make a one world government."
Her companion has caught my eye, squeezes her elbow, she catches my eye, I'm limited in what I can do here, don't want to be too obvious, don't want him to see, so while he explains I stand to the side smiling and rolling my eyes like a madman. She thanks him for the information, he gives her his card with some websites listed on it. They leave their dog, perhaps a bit reluctantly, with us, then go inside for their coffee.
He explains to me when they've gone inside.
"Maybe they think I'm crazy....."
I understand.