Frank Mort Jr.

Simon City, Chicago

 
 

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(Page 6 of 6)    A millennia has begun, I will be 50 years of age. My preferred pastime is to experience coffee with whores in 24-hour greasy spoon restaurants. The finest time to imbibe coffee with these citizens of the twilight is between 3:30 am and 4:30 am. Starbucks is not open at that time and does not cater to whores. You cannot meet whores at Starbucks, not real whores.   At least not whores that would admit or even knew that were whores. The foremost reason all whores have sex with men is for financial support, money.    I have hundreds possibly thousands of photographs of my whores. About 70% of these pictures are of my whores fully clothed. The other 30% have them in various costumes. I like how they look in a French maid’s uniform. I have had them in nurse uniforms and police attire. I especially enjoy it when they are dressed in leather, leather pants, short skirts, shoes, and boots. Anything leather, including any or all the accessories.  Combine black leather and chrome or stainless steel, they look so great together.    Even when these earthy, musk scented females were not in an always-open establishment, I rather be there with the males that frequented these never close diners. These guys had the persona of an Ernest Borgnine or Lee Marvin type of character.  Characters that seeped right out of a Robert Conrad novel. The type of real to life people protruding a John Steinbeck’s "Tortilla Flat". These people had actual problems.   24-hour grills are as American as apple pie, Chevrolet, Dinah Shore and Harley. Coffee for under a buck with 3 or 4 refills. Creatures of the night with all their pain and glory. Many are cab drivers, 2nd shift factory workers, janitors, waitresses and bartenders from neighborhood joints. No facades. Thoughts on reality, not up in the air like yuppies in a Starbucks. The names are not Biff or Brad or Babbs. Numbers of them had nicknames for haymakers or are named after their fathers or grandfathers. Names like Frank, Joe or Mike. These guys had sisters, moms, and wives named Linda, Mary or Janice. Females named after their Mothers or Grandmothers.    Those women never cheated on their men. Some of the men cheated on their women, so what, there wasn’t any herpes or Aids running rampant. If these women developed a smart mouth by reading those women magazines, these guys would give a light smack across the chops to straighten them out. Attitudes adjustments were far and few between, maybe 2 or 3 times a year. Those smacks combined with keeping these felines barefoot and pregnant kept marriages together at any expense. Mainly the expense was the poor woman’s. When a woman made a complaint to the police, most of the time a report wasn’t even filed. If it got before a judge, both of them were ordered to see a social worker. The man might show up for the 1st meeting.  It might have been less than required for the male but it was mandatory for her. Astonishing though this was reality. The social worker would tell her to put up with these infrequent strikes for the sake of the marriage and the children.    These guys were only in a Taxi on the way to a downtown hotel because they were the cab driver, not a passenger. They ate oatmeal for breakfast since they have had it for breakfast since they were 2 years old, not because some phony actor portraying a nutritionist on television informed them to eat it. What is a bistro? A café? These are places to pay $25 for .50 cents worth of spaghetti, now that it was re-named pasta. A place to pay $8.00 for a glass of Chianti. These people I adored as they bought an entire bottle for $7.00 at Cardinal liquor stores. They would boil a few pounds of noodles at home and invite 6 or 7 friends to eat. The sauce they created was thicker and richer than any Italian eatery. In fact most Italian Bistros do not even have an Italian cook.These fellows were not ashamed of their callused hands. When my people ate out, they ate at places that gave you gas, real gas. They let loose of Los Alamos farts; explosions more deadly than an A- bomb. When they took a dump it was like chemical warfare. Without these people Pepto-Bismol and Tums would go out of business along with laxatives.These people actually hung out with their co-workers before and after work. People knew their neighbors and their neighbor’s kids. Guys married the sister of a boyhood friend. You were a Godfather of your best friend’s son or daughter, you were next in line. If anything happened to their parents, you were there to help out and take over if necessary, "let’s roll" were your words. Everyone was a hero, a warrior.      end

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  (c)Frank Mort Jr. 2003