The guy sitting at the curb by my car outside my building looked vaguely familiar.
He flipped his lit ciggie in the street, looked over and grumbled, “Yeah, I oughta look familiar, but you Mr. Seedy K, you don’t remember, do ya?
“I’m an associate of the Vig’s. Gianni. Don’t be shakin’ your noggin’ like that. Of course it wasn’t a pleasant experience, our previous engagement. Deal with it. Actually I’m here to help you out. Not really sure why? But Joey sent me, actually rented me a place across the street.
“I’m enjoyin’ that you’re just standin’ there, not sayin’ nuttin’. You use too many big words, if you ask me. I don’t like to hear somebody talk that I don’t understand what they’re sayin’, if you know what I’m sayin’
“Anyway, Joey reads your stuff. He knows you’ve made a few enemies, he reads the comments. And your picks in the bowl pool, mamma mia, the Vig figures if anybody actually took your advice, they might express their displeasure at your, whaddaya call ’em, prognosterations? He’d lose a good client, if you know what I’m sayin’. So I’m around to protect his interests.”
“Listen,” I finally get in a word, “I’m on a roll, 9-3 with my bowl picks so far. So I’m OK Gianni, you don’t have to . . . ”
“Yo, dude, you capechin’ me? I got my marchin’ orders. You’ll see me around. Deal with it.
“Oh yeah, before I let you go, wherever it is you’re off to, gimme a Ben, will ya? There’s a shirt in the shop down the street I like.”
So, I got that goin’ for me.
Which is not so nice.
Why won’t the Vig leave me alone?
I said it last week, and I repeat. These picks are for entertainment purposes only. So, yeah, maybe I’m not doing so well.
It’s Get Right Time. The winners to this week’s slate of bowl games:
* * * * * Continue reading Seedy K’s Pigskin Prognostications: Bowls Part Deux