intheiceboxLet me tell you something. There was a man came to me asking for money. A loan. He's a friend of my wife's relation, so I concede. The things you do for family, huh? We make an agreement; I give him the money, he'll repay me at the end of the month. Simple as that.
A month goes by. No money. The man comes to me in my shop, says there was trouble, can he have an extra week? I am a reasonable man, so I agree. The week passes, there is no money. Another week, another month, and still I'm stuck with an empty pocket. My wife's relation, he doesn't know where this man went. I keep my temper. Do some digging around. But nothing turns up.
Finally, I hear word that the klumnik is in Camden, so I make a trip. Find him in a diner. He doesn't want to talk, but what is that to me? A man may be silenced with a single blow. Not a word from him the entire drive. When he wakes up, we're in my shop. I have his arm pinned against the counter. And I make myself very clear: a man honors his commitments, a man does not back down, or disappear like a mouse.
Then I take a finger. Two fingers, three, and I give the cleaver a rest. "Do you understand?" He nods. "Just to be sure-" I take one more finger. Let him keep his thumb. And then I let him free.
Next week, I have the money, and I don't have any trouble with this man since.
What am I saying? I don't play around. I think you know this.
I have business of my own. I have my shop, I have my corner of the city. I know who to trust, what to take care of. What makes you think I want to be here, where I know nobody, where everything must be learned again? I'm a patient man, but I am too old for this.
Still. What is the sense in grousing when it has been done? Azoi gait es. I will get by.