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  By Dov Silverman

  NOTE: This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are used fictitiously. All rights reserved.

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  Silverman, Dov

  Copyright 2015 by Dov Silverman

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof, in any form.

  You can find about more about Dov Silverman by visiting:

  www.dovsilverman.wordpress.com

  First edition November 2013

  Second edition January 2015

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  Pier 52, East River:

  The August sun shimmered off the black macadam streets of New York. Two men sat on the edge of the pier with their backs toward the water. A third man sat in a cardboard box, his feet outstretched and hugging a half gallon jug of wine to his chest. Between them and the abandoned warehouses along Pier 52, stood the remains of a broken down wooden wall with trash piled up on both sides. Using the wall for cover two large men skulked from between the empty warehouses along the waterfront. The tallest was black wore an old fedora hat the other white with long unkempt hair. Their clothes were shabby and like two prowling bears they shambled out of the shadows onto the pier. They kept the trash heap and wall between them and the three at the end of the pier. Hoey, the shorter man, mumbled, "I'm thirsty as hell. You sure they got it?"

  "Stupid! Sharkey said, "I why I got to repeat? I saw Deacon with the full jug a few minutes ago." The two quietly scrambled up the trash pile and peered through the broken slats of the wooden fence at the three men on the end of the pier.

  The trash next to Hoey shook then rose up. "I'm hungry," The figure covered in trash said. Hoey jerked backward and rolled down the trash pile. "Holy shit!" he gasped.

  Sharkey recovered first, reached out and grabbed the figure by the shirt front shaking him so the trash fell off and demanded, "Boy, you know me?

  The young man cocked his head and looked at Sharkey who hissed, "Boy, I asked you a question. It's a big question. Cause if I don't get a right answer I'm going to stomp your ass.

  "I'm Neil." The younger man said. "I'm hungry."

  Sharkey pointed to the 52nd Street Pier sign, "This ain't Burger King!" He shoved Neil back into the trash.

  From the bottom of the trash pile Hoey started throwing empty beer cans at Neil. Sharkey scrambled down the pile and joined Hoey throwing whatever he can grab at Neil. The young man covered himself with a piece of cardboard and burrowed back into the trash for safety.

  The three men at the end of the pier heard the commotion and are frightened. Deacon, sitting in the broken cardboard box like a throne embraces the jug even tighter. He wears a heavy woolen sweat shirt with hood pulled up hiding his head and face. He and the other two see Sharkey and Hoey lumbering forward from behind the wooden fence.

  "Sweet Jesus! Deacon cries, "Sweet, sweet Jesus!"

  Hoey points to the wine held by Deacon, "They ain't even opened it!"

  "Deacon," Sharkey cooed, "Lend me that jug you holding so close to your heart? Come on now, give it here!

  "Doc struggles to his feet from the edge of the pier and straightens to his full height of 5 feet 1 inch. His head glistens chocolate bright with sweat in the sun and the untrimmed gray hair around it speaks of better days. He adjusts the wire frame glasses taped together on the bridge with a band aid, points to the jug on Deacon's lap, "Ain't no lendin' Sharkey. It's ours."

  Deacon clutched the bottle even tighter to his body.

  The second man sitting on the edge of the pier rises. He is almost as big and tall as Sharkey. He is also black and wears a railroad conductor's hat, an old army field jacket with paratrooper's patch and battle ribbons on his chest. He tries to stride forward and staggers, points his finger at Sharkey and shouts, "What you mean lend you our jug. Who on God's good earth borrows out their wine?"

  Sharkey slapped the pointed finger and smiles. "You three good church goin' folks goin' to lend it out? Ain't Deacon always preachin' about sharin' and how good it be to help your fellow man?" Sharkey's voice dropped and he growled, "Well me and Hoey are your fellow man!"

  Hoey stepped to Sharkey's side glowering at the three men.Sharkey kicked the side of Deacons cardboard throne, "Hey, Nigger. It's hot and we're thirsty. You goin' to share with your fellow man?"

  "Yeah," Hoey said, "Otherwise we fellow men will punish you."

  Conductor pulled Doc forward to stand at his side and confront Sharkey and Hoey, "Ain't no call to talk like that!" Conductor said.

  "Sweet Jesus!" Deacon sang from his box.

  "Conductor's right," Doc said. "Shouldn't talk nasty."

  You old bastards got diarrhea of the mouth," Sharkey said.

  "Give us that bottle!" Hoey demanded.

  Sharkey," Conductor pleaded, "didn't I share a bottle wit you…" He tried to recall and mumbled, "Last week, or yesterday? Conductor sidled up to the big man and whispered," "Don't you remember?"

  Sharkey shoved his fist in conductor's face, "Get away from me. Your breath stinks worse than you. And your two friends ain't even human."

  "You three are lower than whale shit," Hoey said. "Give us that jug!"

  "Sweet Jesus! Deacon sang. "Cain and Able went to pray so they could thank God one more day. Cain and Able our Father said, one alive and the other dead."

  Sharkey reached down trying to snatch the jug from Deacons arms. He missed and kicked Deacons box. Gimme that you drunken, whoring Bible thumper!"

  "You ain't getting' it!" Conductor challenged. "And furthermore you can't have it!" Conductor stumbled into Sharkey who snatched Conductor's railroad hat from his head and beat him with it. "You old bastard! I'll kill your dead ass!"

  Conductor covered his head with both arms and retreated behind Doc moaning, "Don't hit me! Please don't hit me!"

  "Sharkey," Doc said, protecting the larger man behind him. Don't beat him no more."

  Sharkey threw conductor's hat in his face and pointed, "I can kill your ass and who'd give a shit?"

  "Lets slip him in the river/" Hoey said..

  Sharkey took off his own beat up fedora from his head and slapped Doc across the face with it while watching Deacon and the 1/2 gallon jug in his lap. Sharkey put the crumpled hat on, pulled out his shirt tail and bent over as if to wipe the sweat from his face. In one motion he hooked the jug handle and jerked it away from Deacon.

  "OOOooo!! OOOoooh! Deacon cried. Sweet Jesus!"

  "Sharkey, you did wrong," Doc said. "That's our only bottle for the whole entire day."

  Conductor shoved his chest out and marched forward challenging, "What-did-you-do? I dee-mand to know exactly what did you do?"

  "I stole your wine?" Sharkey said.

  "You can't do that! Not in America. How can you do that?"

  "Cause we're bigger than you," Hoey said.

  Conductor shrank back from Hoey's upraised fists and pleaded, "Sharkey, I shared wit you once. Ain't fair you take our wine?"

  "Conductor's right," Doc said. "Don't you got a heart? We didn't even taste it."

  "Give it back!" Conductor demanded.

  "Sweet Jesus!" Deacon sang.

  Sharkey twisted the cap off the jug and flipped it into the East River. He tilted the large bottle up and drank. The four men watched with desire and a physical need for the red bubbles bursting inside the upraised glass jug.

  Sharkey lowered the jug and motioned Conductor, "You want some? Come and get it."

  Conductor shuffled forward and Sharkey spat a stream of wine into the older man's face. Conductor staggered back and Doc caught him before he fell, demanding, "Why did you do that!"

  "Conductor makes me nervous," Sharkey said and tapped his head, "That man got an air leak up there. If he had half a brain he'
d be dangerous."

  Sweet, sweet Jesus," Deacon moaned. "Do you have a drink for a thirsty soul? My pockets are empty, my mouth is dry and my belly cold."

  "Sharkey," Conductor tried again, "it's your obligatin' duty to share that jug you stole from us."

  "Shut your toothless mouth," Hoey said and took the bottle from Sharkey to drink.

  "Sweet Jesus!"

  Sharkey pointed down at Deacon, "Tell this bible preachin' Nigger in the box to be quiet.

  "Deacon ain't black," Doc said.

  "You ain't got to be black to be a Nigger," Sharkey laughed. "You got to be a piece of shit." He shoved Conductor away and if not for Doc grabbing him the larger man would have fallen off the pier and into the river.

  "You almost knocked me in the water," Conductor said.

  Doc pointed at Hoey drinking. "And he's goin' to finish it by himself."

  Sharkey snatched the bottle from Hoey and drank.

  I didn't even wet my whistle," Hoey complained.

  That's as it should be," Sharkey smiled. "You an' me, we the younger generation. We got to share with these older gentlemen." Sharkey winks at Hoey. "Because these three are in piss-poor shape. Conductor he's suing the city for building the sidewalk to close to his ass."

  "Hoey, that was a joke! A good joke."

  Okay but how are we going to let them drink?"

  "By the numbers.

  Now Hoey smiled knowingly, "Only fair way to do it."

  Sharkey held the jug up, "Who wants to go first?"

  "Watcha' mean by the numbers," Doc asked.

  "Me first!" Conductor shouted and hurried forward.

  "We give it to you according to the numerical procedure." Sharkey said.

  "Explain this procedure!" Doc demanded.

  "The procedure for fingering the