Spaghettio Capone by Catfish McDaris

                                                                                                          Spaghettio Capone

                                                                                                          By Catfish McDaris

The farmer’s market was filled with sounds of different people, languages, and accents selling their harvest. Hmong families with radishes, Bok choy, and long red curling Thai peppers. Amish ladies with white bonnets and men with shovel shaped beards and round hats selling jellies, cheese, and wooden toys. Germans with organic eggs, chickens, and beef. Polish with kielbasa sausage and czernina duck blood soup with prunes, cloves, and allspice. Old ladies with big straw sunhats and fans selling apples and peaches. Beekeepers with honey, comb, and candies. Children running and laughing. People haggling and filling their bags with fresh vegetables and fruit. Quick and I were people watching and listening to the sheer joy of being alive. He asked me if I was hungry and I said I could eat. On one side of the market all the food vendors were set up. The grills were sending up clouds of intoxicating odors. Most of the people were in line at a cart with an Italian sounding name. I told Quick they must know the best place to eat. It looked like five college kids were running the grill turning sausages and flipping burgers, one was placing the meat on buns, another was adding condiments, another was passing out sodas, another was working the cash register. The line was moving swiftly in a cloud of delicious sizzling meat. Quick was eyeballing this greasy haired Simon Legree that was yelling at the sweating workers. He had a pit bull on a chain and he would lift the dog off the ground, strangling it almost to death. I looked around for cops, I could see Quick gritting his teeth. We got to the cash register, Quick said, “Four bite dogs and two cokes.” The order man looked at us like we’d just stepped off a Martian spaceship. “Four bite dogs, the ones you bite and they don’t bite back, especially your asshole.” The boss stepped forward, “Hey douchebag, did you call someone an asshole? Do you know who I am?” He pointed at a little sign on the cart that read Spaghettio Capone. Then he unleashed his dog, Quick had a way with animals. He petted it, spoke soothingly, and calmed it down. Before anyone could spit, he had Capone’s nuts in a vise like grip. He put the leash around Capone’s neck and tightened it until his tongue was hanging out and he was gasping for air.  “Never be rude to your workers or hurt your dog. If you look mean at them or mistreat your animal, I’ll return and I won’t go so easy on you. Is that clear?” Spaghettio vomited and peed his pants. We left the market to much applause. Quick said, “Let’s go amigo. I need to wash my hands.”


​

 About the author: Catfish McDaris is a New Mexican living near Milwaukee, Wisconsin. He has four walls, a ceiling, heat, food, a woman, a daughter, and two cats.His 25 years of published material is in the Special Archives Collection at Marquette University. He’s listed in Wikipedia. His ancestors are from the Aniwaya Clan of the Cherokee Nation. Catfish McDaris won the Thelonius Monk Award in 2015.

---