"What matter your town Beer?" asked Ma when she brought me my breakfast, still sizzling from the grill. Ma, like most people from Dope City, still has that druggy Olympic glow to her. More than ever she is sure that when she moved from Fujian to Dope City the plane took a wrong turn and she ended up in Heaven. A restaurant, with former and probably present mob connections, in Steepleton was blown up the other night. The cops are all over it like flies on a hot beer shit.
"Just the Scorps and the Onions making sure their war stays on the boil." I told her, as if she did not already know.
"I bet Scorpions blow up that place," Ma deducted. Everybody thinks they are Sherlock Holmes in the Dope City gangster towns. "White boy always like blow shit up. Boom! Boom! Boom! UN gang not white. Only white on top. Like sugar sprinkle on chocolate ice cream. What matter everybody? Why don't they get white man job like you. Make kid. Go Wal Mart, buy Toyota like everybody."
The cops in Steepleton let the local gangs get some pretty good traction before they belatedly started making any noise about it. Having people shooting at one another in the streets is a handy card to keep playing when they are extorting the city for more money, more officers, more power, year after bloody year.
"You want the Scorpions to get the upper hand on the Onions just as much as everybody else Ma. No body in this town wants the Hindoos in charge of the underworld. All the motherfuckers want to do with the power they'd have is set up their own crooked state right here in Canada the way the Mexican gangs have done down there. What's up with the Chinese gangs Ma? Haven't heard much from them lately."
"Who you think walk in restaurant late night, hoods on, guns out, rob everybody? Make sure rich people inside too. Rich people from casino. Chinese gang keep out of trouble not selling drug in park and school like white boys and Hindoo."
"You really think the Chinese gangs are that much smarter than everybody else?"
"I not say smarter than everybody. Only smarter than white boy and Hindoo. Head Scorpion in can. Head UN in can. Head Chinese take kid school every morning. Make donation for school computer too."
I hate it when Ma is right.
"Any horse you like running this week Beer?"
"Not much Ma. I'm saving my money for the Derby. On Friday you might want to take a shot at Fly Boy in the sixth at Santa Anita. There's enough competition for him in the race that the odds could be very good. Looks like a soft spot for a horse with his early speed."
Ma wrote down the name on her order pad. "Fly Boy on Friday. Sound lucky. He win I make you special breakfast on Monday."
I sure hope Fly Boy wins. Ma's special breakfast comes in a bottle.