The bus pulled across the state line...

All during the ride, Joe had great thoughts of arriving home as the man of the house: a man of respect!! He had done it! He had accomplished the impossible! It had taken four years from that first trip at eleven; it had taken blood, sweat, and so much fear and agony; it had cost him his childhood and most of his teenage years; it had denied him school, friends, and memories he would have had of Proms, Boy Scouts, his first Football and Baseball game, Rides with girl friends to the beach and movie theater; it had denied him family and joy and all of those precious moments we hold so dear to our hearts: "MEMORIES OF LOVE AND HAPPINESS WITH FAMILY"! But, at that very moment the bus pulled across the New York State Line, Joe was the happiest young man in the world!

Joe could not wait to see their eyes--his families--light up in recognition. He was the first to journey to the places he had and couldn't wait to tell everyone--"except any of the "bad" parts!" With three thousand dollars in cash in his pockets, he had plenty enough to pay for his family to journey back with him! Pauly, who snored loudly next to him, even made the decision to return with Joe and help him move his family. They left the business in Jack's loyal hands--their hard working partner who was running a crew of ten people! Yes, Joe was on top of his world: he had leveraged two dollars more per room and had expanded his realm to include four other carpet installation companies--including a mill which actually produced and installed commercial carpet! Joe and Pauly had become the youngest business men to eat regularly at there mentor's restaurant! And now, with the train coming up on Ditmars Blvd--the last stop on the route--he would soon be home and happy! He would have to go to Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, and visit with his relatives! Yes, that was of high priority; to demonstrate that he had in fact accomplished more than all of his cousins put together! Then to Many-Hat to see good Old Mr. Bianco! Oh! Yes! He was on the top of his world as the train rounded the bend and stopped... and flew down the stairs...

Hey... Pauly, take this five-hundred and add five of yours and buy us a car! I'll call your house in a few days.

"My father might still have that '57 Chevy for sale! You got my number.. right?"

"Yea, I do. Hey..." Joe added as Pauly took off to dash to his house, "...stay in touch with Jack!"

Joe then began to walk to his mother's house. All the way, he thought of his mom's face when she saw her son return... "rich!"

Comb his hair. Knock! Knock! Knock!

"Whose there?"

"Me!"

"Me who?"

"ME! Open the door!"

"Me who?

"Joe! Is my mother home?"

"Who are you looking for?"

"My mother?"

"Your mother don't live here."

"I don't know who the heck you are, but if you don't open this door, I'm gonna break it down!"

"I'm gonna call the cops if you don't leave."

Harry, by this time, Joe was ready to scream. He had it planned--his entrance that is: he figured the best way to receive the splash of joy he desperately needed was to suddenly and dramatically appear at his mothers door, the prodigal son home at last, and in one piece... I guess it really wasn't only a question of rescuing his family as much as it was of the honor and love of his family; a love he believed he never recieved!

'I HAD IT PLANNED! DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND---I HAD IT PLANNED...'

"Mom! I'M HOME!"

"OH, MY JOE! MY JOE! KISS. KISS. HUG. KISS. HU..."

"Oh, mom. Stop... ...let me tell you..."

After the initial shock had worn away, a great feast consisting of his favorite dishes would instantly appear on the old dining room table: Tomatoes with garlic, onion, and oregano in a pond of vinegar and olive oil; day old Italian bread, smothered in olive oil and garlic; lightly breaded egg plant, fried and simmered in a red sauce smothered in mozzarella cheese; yellow apples for dessert--all of the kids disliked apples, and for this reason, along with Mr. Bianco's "Apple Attention", they became "HIS FAVORITE." When his father was alive, once a month his mother would go shopping. When she returned she would take out a dozen ripe, rich and yellow apples and say: these are for Joe, no one touch them! SOMETHING--ATTENTION--THAT WAS HIS--ALL HIS!

Harry, Joe's mother, as you have heard, never mastered the art of expressing her kindness and love. It was usually during one of these infrequent situations that Joe felt proud, loved, and special. Yes, a simple apple -- polished and ripe...

Joe's mind was swimming in pictures so vivid they seemed real... the family would gather round the table and hastily devour everything in sight in a rush to get to the story telling episode.

Accounts of his journeys would leap from the depths of his memory, hurdling all opposition with vivid color, exotic oration and multifarious movement! He would hold the entire audience spellbound....

..."I'm calling the %$@ing cops!"

Of course he knew who would appear... so he did what anyone in his position would do: departed to uncover the logic for this mysterious enigma.

After quizzing the neighbors and friends of his family, he discovered where his family had moved to...

A quick comb of his hair. Knock! Knock! Knock!

"Who's there?"

"Its Me."

"Me who?"

'Not again.' he thought to himself as he tried to figure the situation out.

"Its me, Joe! Is my mother home?"

Click, the lock is turned. Scrape, a chain is removed. Creak, the door opens and a tall, thin, stranger suddenly appears.

"Hello, you must be Joe?" The funny looking guy speaks!

"Yea, can I come in?"

"Oh, sure. I'm sorry. I did not mean to leave you standing in the hallway."

`I bet you didn't', he thought to himself as he entered the unfamiliar apartment.

"Your mother's out shopping and the kids are in school." The foreigner--he was of German decent and practiced the Jewish faith--remarked to him.

"Would you care for a beer?"

"No thanks, but I'll take one of those smokes."

They chatted until his mother came home and then ate a dinner of cabbage and knockwurst. What a change. Not only were his family living in new digs, but his mother had quit dating Joe and found this guy, Loui Fleugal! He had a new "step father"!

Later that evening, before he could tell every one of his reason for returning, he grilled his brothers and sister as to who, what and where; he could hear his mother arguing with "Lou".

"He's my son!"

"Well, I heard all about him, if thinks he can just show up at our door unannounced he's a fool..."

Harry, Jeanette dated Loui with the hope that a non-Italian, hard working, truck driver would provide the family with a father figure of sorts and some prosperity. But, to Joe, it seemed that Jeanette was telling him he was no longer the "man of the house": A mental position of respect that had become his only motivation. On top of this, his reception was not what he had envisioned. He tried to tell his mother about the business and why he had come home... his mother just looked at him and said: "How can a kid have a business like that? I think your just making it up because I'm with Loui! Listen, I love you, but you really cannot expect me to pack the family and scoot down to some city in the south of Louisiana, do you? A few years ago I would have taken you back in a hearts beat but... you know how it is... with Loui and stuff? I cannot just say OK come home! You understand, don't you? Just take the money you have and find a place until I have time to talk to Loui... OK?"

"But I got a business in New Orleans... I can't stay in New York for more than a few days!"

"Well, that is what your going to have to do! We can see what Loui has to say about your coming home..."

"Mom, I'll call you. Give me your number..."

Harry, how confusing that conversation must have been. Joe did not know if his mother meant she would find out if Loui would move or if Loui would let Joe move in! Joe did not want to move in! He felt it was his family and he decided to convince them that life could be just what he, Joe, had painted in his mind. Joe could not comprehend the change. He returned and expected everything to be the way he left it: as it was in his mind... or he would turn the clock back! The only clock to be turned back was The Oath of Alphonso... as you will shortly hear! The curse would ring "twelve midnight and alls not safe on the water front"...

Joe walked the streets all that night meeting up with all of his old buddies and excitably telling them stories of he and Pauly. He could tell that when he told the stories of Bonnie and Clyde--and even the Indian Reservation and Nihanio--the guys did not believe them! "Was it due to their small worlds?" Joe asked himself and then decided to called Pauly--though he would not inform him of the "situation" at his home--he couldn't...

Imagine, after all of the times and plans, his family refusing; his family disbelieving! He would surely look the fool! Might cause him to drop a notch or two! Oh! No! Joe could not tell Pauly....

"Hey, Pauly. Listen. I'm gonna take a few days to visit my relatives. I will call you in about four days... did you get the car?"

"Yea! It's a beauty! It's in mint condition! Your mom ready to go?"

"Yea, but we'll give her and my brothers and sister a few days to prepare. You keep cool... Oh! And don't wreck the car!"

Joe then walked aimlessly in thought until a car came out of no where and snatched him in it's belly....

"WELL, WELL, WELL! Look whose come home ta roost! Da wandering $%$#$%^ monk!" Tony Black said as he walked into the room and sat in his chair, cigar poking from the corner of his mouth, polishing his diamond ring on his suit jacket.

"WHOP!" The slap spun Joe's head once more. The room was spinning and blood ran from a gash across his brow--put there by the ring Tony wore.

Earlier, Joe had been wrenched off the street, blind folded, knocked in the head, and dumped into the trunk of a big, black, Lincoln Town Car.

He awoke in some place with lots of chairs and tables. 'Card tables?' He thought. 'Holding chips and cash?' 'Is that noise of a gamblers den coming through the back ground of the pounding in my ears... are those pictures on the walls? Peeling wallpaper...? ...some social club?...'

"So, you got Franky's nephew?" A voice, a new voice, asked.

"Yea boss, weeze got da punk dat ran out on ya!"

Joe struggled with his brain, trying to get it mobilized to deal with this new threat! What should he do? Think! Think! Come on it can't end now! Think!

"Wad ya wan me ta do?"

"How ya doin Joe? Oooh! Look at that mug! Someone's been dumping some mighty heavy whacks on your noggin!"

'Hey, wake up! Come on brain, do your thing!' But Joe's mouth didn't want to work!

"Been having fun running with the Cat? Oh! I can see that twitch.. why, you did not think I knew what and where?"

"Listen... I knew I had to get your dough... I got it, I got it! That's the reason I came back!" Joe's mouth spit out--on it's own!

"You got six grand?" The Boss asked Joe.

."Yea, I got it!"

"Un tie him! NOW!"

Joe counted out two thousand, four hundred and fifty dollars and placed it on the table. While Tony Black counted it, Joe made his call....

"Hey, Pauly. I need the cash"

"What!?"

"Listen, don't say nothing, just get all of the cash and meet with Tony Black and give it to him!"

"But..."

"Pauly... Tony Black... Just give it to Tony Black... like I told you we were gonna do! He's driving a black Lincoln. Listen, on the corner at Bernies in..." Joe stopped and asked Tony how long it would take until he arrived..

"In about an hour. OK!"

"OK! But I know something's wrong...?"

"Hey, I'll call you later." Joe hung up.

"Ya knowz whad iz gonna hapin ta yose gyz if ya leave... RIGHT!?"

"Yea, I do."

"Remeba, da Boss got gize in Orleans... friends!"

All he could do was think of his anger and place blame on "The Family". Yea, OK, I know what your thinking Harry: "his father's choice of activity was of his own"; but had he not been delivered into "The Family"; encouraged by "The Family"; died in "The Family? Though Joe's father was the proverbial "Racketeer--he liked to play in the fast lane until the traffic caught up to him in the form of 17 copper-clad lead slugs--Joe knew from his travels that crime did not pay; he knew from living on the streets, looking in from the outside, that life represented so much more; he knew that jails, detention centers, and confinement in general were terrible: The loss of ones freedoms tore at the very heart of This Thing Of Ours. Death. Confinement. Pain. Sorrow. Fear. Hate. Selfishness. Greed. These were of the vocabulary of the Mob.... but, the over riding factor that would lead him to the following situation was based on yet another word: revenge!!!!

It was after dark when they arrived at "Joe's Bar and Grill": the same "Joe's" that Joe's father hung out in when he was alive; the same place that Antonio, his great grandfather had visited on the eve of "the contract" in the thirties...

An odor of stale beer saturating the atmosphere greeted them as they entered the morbid, dark establishment. Packed with an amalgamation of lost souls and creatures of the hand, it brought visions of a nocturnal watering hole on The Plains of Serengetti --complete with vicious Hyenas and docile Zebras... whose stripes identified them as prey.

Leaving Pauly and Sergio at the bar, Joe strolled to a door in the back of the bar and knocked in code upon it before entering with out waiting for a reply. Once entering the room, Joe halted to inspect the crowded gaming table in the center of the room; he was looking for a familiar face... Feranzi was absent. As he turned to leave, someone called out: "Aye! Yo! Joe! You looking for Feranzi?"

Joe turned and recognized Nicky D, whom he knew from the old days as Feranzi's driver. "Yea, you know when he will be in?"

"Dat's gonna be difficult, da old man passed away last year. Listen if deres a ding youse gyze need, den come back lata... afta weeze close, say two or three. OK?"

"Yea, I'll be back." With that, Joe turned once more and, jacking the collar of his shirt with an exaggerated shoulder movement and a shake of his head, he sauntered to the door in a display of supreme dominion: "as if these assorted wiseguys and wannabes were his personal fan club"...

Hung from an antiquated, frazzled cord, a single light bulb's harsh glow competed with huge, pale, clouds of cigar smoke drifting above the table. Huddled in the dimness of this hazy setting, three intent figures, dressed in black fatigues and combat boots, contemplated an illustrated, penciled in, hand drawn map. Displaying the interior of an apartment house, the maps most prominent detail were the words Tony Black, Ball Buster, and Jolly Green Giant; boldly traced over and over, each name seemed to be the primary interest of these resolute warriors: they would all be there!.

"Lets go over the details one more time." Joe said for the fifth and final time. "The layout of the interior is the most important. The bottom floor is empty, the top has been converted into three sections of which only one portion is utilized. Though only one door allows access, we can gain our own entrance by moving through one of the south side windows--which opens into a room with a door leading to the private office; a designed escape route which I will utilize in reverse! The office, as you can see, is to the right, behind Tony's main table. I will enter from it and force them to open the door allowing you access", he said to Sergio as he pointed to the penciled drawing, "otherwise, we will not catch them in a cross fire! Remember Sergio, the abutting counter on which an ancient cash register and phone are placed is hear, it will block your immediate movement, but, it will also offer protection! You will have to come around it to enter the main gambling room. The kitchen, right here", he continued, turning the map around in his determination that Sergio know each detail perfectly, "is off to the left of the main room; set up to prepare and serve sandwiches and other snacks--make sure you neutralize it by taking full notice! Pauly, you are the driver, you are also our security and our eyes on the street. Anything, and I mean anything, you deem to be suspicious, you react! I do not want any shooting unless it is necessary! You are the only one with a fully loaded and operational gun! You need to have it because your responsibility is the most important. Serg and I can take the place down, but our weakest point is our escape route and any unseen circumstances. Nicky D was able to get only three guns. My gun is a .38 revolver and we have no ammunition for it. Sergio's gun is a .25 automatic with only one shell--and he said it jams on occasion. You have the .45 with a full clip! You are the most important! GOT THAT?"

"Yea, I got it. Hell, I want those #$%%$# just as bad as you!"