The Smart Guy speaks at a homeless fiction writers rally.

Another Excerpt From A Book You'll Never Read

Chapter 41

Vito Nazarini and Monk Spitzanelli watched as the man they were supposed to kill stepped from a parked car. In a moment, they were at his side.

"Hey, Frankie," Vito said. "Big Elmo says dat you is supposed to a ride wit us, ha-ha."

The doomed man, Frankie Garbaroni, knew his executioners well, and though trapped with two ice picks jabbing his back, he had a plan.

"Big Elmo who?" Frankie said.

Vito and Monk looked at each other, and Frankie knew their limited third grade education might save his life.

"Frankie, you know who it is," Monk said. "Big Elmo Maraconzon, uh, Maracuzzo, uh, you tella him, Vito."

"Hey, Monk, I can't a pronounce dat name, either. It's Big Elmo Macaroni, I think."

"It's a not Macaroni," Monk said. "Anyway, you knows who it is, Frankie. It's da Boss."

Frankie rubbed his forehead. "I know several Big Elmos. You sure you gotta the right guy?"

"Ha," Vito said. "A course we gotta the right guy. You stold Big Elmo's money."

"Well, then you tella me what's his last name?"

"Aw, come on, Frankie," Monk said. "We have to killa you ass. What difference does that make?"

"Because a guy should know whose a having him killed. Spell it for me."

Vito and Monk lowered their ice picks and sat on the curb.

"Spell it," Vito said. "Geez, letta me see."

"M, uh, A, uh," Monk said.

Frankie Garbaroni eased down the street and around the corner.

"M, uh, A, uh," Vito said. "Hey, Frankie, you went to da sixth grade. Help us out. Frankie, oh, darn."

from the novel:

Mafia hit men or NASA scientists?