Givin’ up hookers, Tommy said; a schmear was spread, Too much….too much, talkin’ to Jimmy the Gent; no words from Jimmy; mouth full as always…

It gets to be a habit…..it’s become a habit….nothing enjoyable….nothing…,hands through gray….

Nothing? Jimmy managed a word; pieces of pastrami flying…

Sure….the initial….the act….

I get that…

But after….no….nothing….Hollow….

Tommy, in between dips of Russian dressing, You gettin’ interspective….soul searching? Jimmy asked, wiping his jowels….

Not too much….not too much….just tryin’ somethin’ new, said the thin man, Somethin’ new….

I’ll place money…I’ll take that action….

You would Jimmy…..you would…