Johnny Boy: Chapter One

The instant Frank’s hand came near the stove there was a loud boom and a massive purple blaze burst out of the oven. Several pots that lined the shelf above the stove toppled onto the floor.

Connie screamed, and I began to cry. I wrapped my arms around Connie’s neck, drawing her closer.

Shit.” Frank rubbed his eyes with his palms.

“Frankie!” Connie shouted. “Are you okay?”

“Dammit! My eyebrows!”

“Daddy’s gonna kill us,” Connie said.

ShitShitShit.” Frank shook his head.

My parents rushed into the room. “What the hell happened?” my father said, tying the belt of his bathrobe.

“I was trying to get some heat going,” said Frank, unfazed.

“What? What heat?”

“From the oven. This place is like an icebox. We’re freezing our asses off.”

“What are you, stupid?” My father slapped the back of Frank’s head. “Wha’d I tell ya, huh? Wha’d I tell ya?”

“Bill, stop,” my mother said. “You’re gonna hurt him.”

“Hurt him? I’ll hurt him. I’ll knock his block off.”

I felt a twinge in my belly, and warm pee trickled down my leg.

My father checked the knobs on the stove, turning them in different directions. “Didn’t I tell you not to play with the oven? You’re lucky you didn’t blow up the whole goddamn house. The last thing I need is to get evicted because you have your head up your ass.”

Someone pounded on the back door adjacent to the kitchen.

Shit. The landlord—just what the hell I need.” My father glared at Frank.

My mother opened the door, and a bald, heavyset man rushed into the kitchen. “What the hell are you people doin’ up here?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Kempt,” my father said, “but as you can see, we, ahh … we had a little accident.”

Accident? What kind of accident? My wife thought a bomb went off. She and the dog are scared to death.”

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John Califano