Madness is Mercy

Oy Gevalt

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It seemed simple enough. Head up to Boston with a car load enterprising fellows, on word from Big Eddie. Seemed that a groyser tzuleyger mick by the name of Danny O'Bannion was looking for some talent, and only a dope would say no.  

The diver seemed like a mentch, and the first few hours went well but then this meshuggah storm rolled in, and that’s when the tsuris began. It got so hard to see that the boychic driving was having trouble seeing and narrowly missed driving us off a cliff, but wrecked the car smashing into another vehicle on a closed bridge.

My Great Grandmother used to tell me about evil spirits and golems and other mishagas from the old country, but what I saw that night was beyond anything I had been prepared for. Nightmares straight from the secret pages of the Kabala attacked us and nearly killed us all. The hitter and the gunner and the thief were all unconscious, and only divine intervention allowed me to wound the demons enough to get the others to safety. Mush of what happened before and after is still a blur, but i do recall running though the wet new England hinterlands like mindless loon.

How much was real and how much was my traumatized psyche, I don’t yet know, but I think this pischer should have stayed in New York.



SavageCole Howmandu

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