call•me•jonah

i had no idea the gypsies were in town. but there they were. a dozen leprechaun boys. round, freckled baby faces with dirty mouths and malicious wit. polo shirts and baseball caps. braces on each tooth. they railed poor joey. but he took it in stride. jesting that he was 45 and his girlfriend was 82. they struck at every possible nerve they caught sight of. but even when they accused his hair of thinning, he laughed loudly. i couldn't figure them out. i'd never seen gypsies before. i thought they were renegade jr. highers with an evil sense of humor. but they were a lot older than that. or so they said. and i'd never seen anyone so cruel. joey knew they were gypsies right off. apparently they've got a look. from inbreeding and what not. and the clothes they wear. look for leopard print. and they're loaded and the girls look like pygmies and dress like skanks. and they travel in droves in taxi cab minivans. they scrammed when they thought joey was calling the cops. he was actually calling kelly, who gets a kick out of gypsies. one quiet boy lagged behind. "here's your biggest fan" joey said, handing him his mobile "say something."

"i'm a gypsy," the boy said with a quick and unmistakable irish accent, then disappeared like the rest.