Saturday I woke up to the smell of burning tobacco. Across the room, Joey Bishop was smoking a Lucky Strike.
Sunshine”, he said, and picked a stray piece of tobacco from his lip.
yawned and rubbed my eyes.
“Joey. What the christ. It’s 6 a.m.”
“Time is just a concept. Actually it’s ten after."
He pointed his Lucky Strike at a Georgia O’Keeffe print.
"Nice." Cigarette ashes fell on the hardwood
“Skunk Cabbage. Part of the flower series. Can I ask you something?”
it true he was…how should I say this…well-endowed?”
A cloud came over his face.
mean, maybe not Uncle Miltie well-endowed, but…”
your powder room”, he asked through clenched teeth.
Joey threw his cigarette in the toilet. He turned to me with a look of both anger and disgust.
“You think I’m a pervert? Some sort of degenerate, is that what
lit another Lucky Strike and took a long drag.
Joey Bishop disappeared in the exhale.
Sunday I woke again to the smell of tobacco smoke.
"Morning, Sunshine. There an ashtray around here?"
I yawned and rubbed my eyes.
Across the room, Forrest Tucker was smoking a Chesterfield.