Fic: Discovery
TITLE: Discovery
RATING: General [Mild references to violence]
SUMAMRY: Joey's stories are always underappreciated.
Lemme tell you something about Jimmy Donnelly.
Everyone knew he was a hothead. Hell, even he did, deep down. No-one said so to Jimmy's face though, 'cause it generally ended badly for the sucker who opened his mouth.
See, me though? I knew where the wind was blowing. I could keep my trap shut. We're talking Fort Knox here.
"And if you really believe that, Joey, I got a bridge to sell--"
"Hey, who's telling the story here?"
"Point proven."
"As I was saying..."
So he had a short fuse. People blamed it on all types of stuff. I've always been of the persuasion that the most likely reason is that he was a Donnelly. Everything else just helped it snowball.
But that's not what this story's about.
When Jimmy won the Firecracker from Donnie, this guy who lived down the street, I was the first person he called.
"No, you weren't."
"Okay, fourth, after his brothers. But I was the first one to meet him there."
"Because that makes all the difference."
"Ex-act-ly."
So we all go there that night to look at what Jimmy won in detail.
Because I'm such a stand up guy, I do the honours of pouring the first drink. But that's when I see the floor.
"Hey, guys -- I'm thinking this doesn't look quite right."
They all come around the back to take a look at the damage. Jimmy, needless to say, isn't particularly happy with this.
"Is that termites?"
"No, not termites. My uncle had termites in his place. More holes, less...wet looking."
"Not helping, Joey."
I try to be helpful then. "It looks like rot. My uncle had that too. Not as bad as this, but still. Rot. It took a--"
And that's when he slaps me upside the head, real hard. "Not. Helping."
Tommy just throws his hands up in the air and leaves, all 'you're on your own' style, and leaves with Sean hot on his heels.
Jimmy, Kevin and I are standing there.
"That bastard," Jimmy says, and he's kicking at the air like there's a soccer ball, or maybe Donnie, who knows, right there or something.
"My uncle," I start, 'cause I figure the guys might want to know what my uncle did to take care of the rotten floors in the restaurant he owned back in the day. Plus, it'll help defuse the situation, if you're catching what I'm throwing here. Jimmy's not a whole lotta fun when he's in a mood.
"Joey," he says to me, using the kind of voice that makes you listen up. "Go...go get some floor polish. Or something."
So I go.
"And this all being why you know nothing about the whereabouts of Donnie Byrne."
"God's truth. And I only heard about the tax lean a week later."
"We didn't ask you anything about Byrne. You know that, right?"
"Huh. Well. At least now you're informed?"
"Someone put this guy back in his cell. Please."
RATING: General [Mild references to violence]
SUMAMRY: Joey's stories are always underappreciated.
Lemme tell you something about Jimmy Donnelly.
Everyone knew he was a hothead. Hell, even he did, deep down. No-one said so to Jimmy's face though, 'cause it generally ended badly for the sucker who opened his mouth.
See, me though? I knew where the wind was blowing. I could keep my trap shut. We're talking Fort Knox here.
"And if you really believe that, Joey, I got a bridge to sell--"
"Hey, who's telling the story here?"
"Point proven."
"As I was saying..."
So he had a short fuse. People blamed it on all types of stuff. I've always been of the persuasion that the most likely reason is that he was a Donnelly. Everything else just helped it snowball.
But that's not what this story's about.
When Jimmy won the Firecracker from Donnie, this guy who lived down the street, I was the first person he called.
"No, you weren't."
"Okay, fourth, after his brothers. But I was the first one to meet him there."
"Because that makes all the difference."
"Ex-act-ly."
So we all go there that night to look at what Jimmy won in detail.
Because I'm such a stand up guy, I do the honours of pouring the first drink. But that's when I see the floor.
"Hey, guys -- I'm thinking this doesn't look quite right."
They all come around the back to take a look at the damage. Jimmy, needless to say, isn't particularly happy with this.
"Is that termites?"
"No, not termites. My uncle had termites in his place. More holes, less...wet looking."
"Not helping, Joey."
I try to be helpful then. "It looks like rot. My uncle had that too. Not as bad as this, but still. Rot. It took a--"
And that's when he slaps me upside the head, real hard. "Not. Helping."
Tommy just throws his hands up in the air and leaves, all 'you're on your own' style, and leaves with Sean hot on his heels.
Jimmy, Kevin and I are standing there.
"That bastard," Jimmy says, and he's kicking at the air like there's a soccer ball, or maybe Donnie, who knows, right there or something.
"My uncle," I start, 'cause I figure the guys might want to know what my uncle did to take care of the rotten floors in the restaurant he owned back in the day. Plus, it'll help defuse the situation, if you're catching what I'm throwing here. Jimmy's not a whole lotta fun when he's in a mood.
"Joey," he says to me, using the kind of voice that makes you listen up. "Go...go get some floor polish. Or something."
So I go.
"And this all being why you know nothing about the whereabouts of Donnie Byrne."
"God's truth. And I only heard about the tax lean a week later."
"We didn't ask you anything about Byrne. You know that, right?"
"Huh. Well. At least now you're informed?"
"Someone put this guy back in his cell. Please."