Page 22 - Vol. VI #3

O.G. (continued from preceding page)
gotten about the talent show. She thinks of her grandchildren who will visit, all calling her “O.G.”—their pet name for her. Wassup O.G.! they holler, unable to stand still. They hoot and teach her pet parrot idiot phrases, but always she’s thrilled to know they will be here, one and all.
and dance floor for the annual Orange Grove Tal- ent Show. They push the tiles together and latch them with a key. The excitement is palpable—a restless, bristling confusion in the air. The show, always a hit with the residents, draws countless relatives and friends. The male residents help dec- orate the walls with streamers, overeager or overly critical, taking baby steps and standing on their tiptoes holding strips of bright paper. Ed bickers with Sam who waves his cane at Martin. The ladies crowd together in the kitchen to bake cupcakes and lemon meringue pie. Some of the more cata- tonic sit in fold-out chairs set in the space before the dance floor and smile placidly. The assistants try to shoo them away, to get them to go play Jingo or Uno with the other residents in the dining hall.
Pushing her needle through the network of white thread in her hands, she watches as a row of silky diamonds emerges in her lap.
But she getting’ old, right? Frail too?
Right, Viper-Loc. So how stacks the chavos?
In the kitchen, in-between arguments about vari- ous recipes, the women gossip:
She got chavos locos, ‘mano, in a safe under her bed. I seen it.
Do you think Ole Carl will win third year in a row?
~
Yeah, ‘mano, O.G. run that nursing home like a mobster run a prison. She got that place sewn up!
O.G. got mad cream, Piju. She done cut into Young Dirty’s old turf like sixty percent when she be- came kingpin of fogeyville. Just think. We could be runnin that.
With the same hillbilly songs and harmonica? How many times is he going to play ‘Swamp Pop Papa?’
And weapons?
Until one of his strokes finally finishes him off, I imagine.
Dunno. She’s old school. Ricky Starr says he seen her beat one kid holdin’ out on her with a Sega Genesis controller.
Betty!
Mary Ann’s been practicing her tap dancing, I hear.
She ex-New York. Old money. Brutal. Real vestige of the Kosher Nostra.
We’ve all heard: she clatters around like a nag
None of that racist shit, Ricky. Jews is Jews the way we all be—
with two left feet!
Betty! The things you say!
Enough preachin’. Does olden goldie keep her sup- ply swoll or what? Just papers?
~
No Je, Piju. Stop that ageist mierda too. We all got
Doctor Fang, very good to see you. Please close the door behind you.
kinfolk.
Of course, Ms. Goldblatt. How you been? New room?
~
Kiss me joyo, Viper. Is we stickin’ the old broad up or is we stickin’ the old broad up?
I change rooms often, Doctor. Just in case.
In the rec-room, the care assistants build the stage 13
I suppose the light is better in here. And call me Wu. Shall I take your pulse?