You left Irene standing there pouring all her change into the machine, and now you with the deft movements of a Cinéma vérité director take in all the minute details on the fake brownstone floor, the crud of decades now flattened into the surface of the tiles. You then bring the focus to a group of three elderly men. They are discussing some business in a low voice. One of them through his body language suggests dominance over the others. They are all wearing Moss Brothers' coats imported over twenty years ago. They also go to the same barber. From quite a distance you can smell the same aftershave.
"So Jimmy, you think the boy has the balls?"
"Fuck he has and some more."
"You telling me he has three balls?"
"Knock it off Carlo. We are being serious. The kid is just a cugine"
"Serious, you know the meaning of that fucking word!"
"What did you say?" "Can't hear a darn thing cos of that racket"
"You need a fucking hearing aid."
"So Gina is she still giving you head?"
"Giving me head? Tommy, I ain't had a b-j since Bush told lies."
"Ya kidding me."
"Not after the prostrate job. Like raw meat, it is."
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