Sam Draper
Stories (4)
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Ice Fishing
“Hey son want to hear a joke?” I ask my him. He’s young, and innocent. Looking up at me through the steam of his breath in the cold. We’re on our yearly ice fishing trip in Alberta. You rent a space, they drop a small portable shack on top and drill a hole.
By Sam Draper4 years ago in Fiction
Borgata
Borgata 4:00 PM. Tuesday, 1971 Needle drop. Record scratch. The honey gold voices of long forgotten Italian opera singers play, belting high notes and deep tones through the vinyl. The music plays in this small Queens town house. Home to one. Maria Vincenzo. She’s in her late 60s, and is the Widow of Don Vincenzo, formally Antonio Vincenzo. Sicilian mob boss, running a small family operation in Queens. He wanted skin in the game. But the New York organized crime underworld is exclusive, especially to Sicilians. He crossed one too many lines, stepped on a few too many toes and bit off a lot more than he could chew. He and his brother, Uncle Carlo, but only ever referred to as Uncle, were found belly up in the Hudson River. Closed casket. Buckshot buying real estate in their skulls. It was work of anyone of the prominent New York families. The NYPD closed the case immediately. No need to investigate mob crime when those pomade-slick-backed hoods are feeding you under the table.
By Sam Draper4 years ago in Fiction
