OH HELL, THEY'RE
RACKING IT UP AGAIN
I went to the pool hall to puke up my guts
and play a masterful game of split-eight
once again. Steve Mizerack's Raritan
Rec - that's what it was called, over
in Amboy. It used to be a port town,
so they also had a Raritan wreck, a
ruined boat, listing, in the harbor. He
himself, Steve, used to be a pool pro,
on the circuit, whatever circuit pool
halls have, where fat guys play for money.
I used to like, just as much, the girls in
skirts who played pool for money. Bending
over like that. Why didn't they, Jeepers,
wear pants? Or none at all, I wondered.
Nothing ever makes too much sense
down there, the harbor I mean. Not
what you're thinking, jerk. What's it
mean anyway when the most famous
thing out of your town is an ex pool
hustler who now runs a hustle joint
of his own. Problem is, it's a law office
now, and the other half is a laundromat.
The pool hall idea got closed up years ago.
Now it says 'Abogada' - which is Spanish
for Lawyer, which is rooted in 'advocate.'
Abogada. Advocate. Lawyer. I guess it
makes sense. What doesn't ever make
sense is why no one can ever decide
how to spell the other one. You tell me,
which is it, for I've seen all three:
Laundromat. Laundramat. And I've
even seen Laundermat. Oh, hell.
they're racking up again.
Gotta' go.
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