Scranton Lives Matter Ch. 10

Petrified the cops had his house surrounded Gino answered the phone on the first ring.

Let me talk to Harry, said Judge Dombroski, who Gino always called Dumbroski.

Gino obeyed.

After all, the man was a Scranton judge.

Escaped federal prisoner and former Scranton Mayor Harry Davies grabbed the phone.

You’re free, the judge said.

Harry did his happy dance.

Now the president wants a favor in return for your pardon, the judge said.

A quid go pro? So what else is new? What’s my liberty going to cost me?

The president wants you to make up rumors about Joe Biden like his peeing the bed when he was in law school and spread the dirt all over Scranton. People know you, Harry. You’ve got credibility, the judge said.

Yeah, the same people who voted for me voted for Biden, Harry Davies said.

On the other side of town, in a shabby makeshift West Side church for armed Trump supporters and assorted other fanatics, Earl Schmidt got a phone call, too.

I hear you’re looking for tickets to the inauguration, Timmy Kelly said.

Like about 100, Earl said.

I got two seats right behind Jill going for $50 a pop.

When can I pick them up?

We deliver.

Shivering with rolling waves of excitement, Timmy Kelly jumped into his new used Corvette, getting heat flashes at the mere thought of driving all over town with the top down. So what if the temperature peaked today at 34 degrees? Career change required sacrifice, especially if he expected to become mayor of his and Joe Biden’s hometown. This Kelly green Corvette exuded genuine Scranton power, privilege and authority even if it was the cheapest Corvette he could find listed on Autotrader. Still, the 1984 model with 138,000 miles on the odometer and an asking price of just $3,899 made Timmy’s point. If that goof Joe Biden can do it, anybody can do it.

Scranton Lives Matter!

Driving over to the gun church with the counterfeit inaugural tickets, Timmy started talking out loud to himself like he was giving a campaign speech.

Here’s the deal, man. Joe loves his Stingray so Timmy Kelly loves his. OK, so Joe’s Vette was a 1967 cream of the crop car. Nowadays you’d have to pay about $150,000 for one in good shape. My car’s different but Scranton Democrats will understand. What do they know anyway, especially that NEPA for Joe Facebook page gang loaded with Joey junkies and devotees. Like always, parochial Democratic Party disciples will vote me into office without even thinking.

Timmy Kelly must have watched his favorite video 100 times with then Vice President Joe Biden behind the wheel of a 1967 Stingray in a special 2015 TV segment of Jay Leno’s Garage. The way Joe gripped the wheel underhanded like a street racing fighter pilot helped Timmy polish his mannerisms to get his impression down. The way Joe showed his teeth helped Timmy smile the smile that would get him through the rest of his life. Joe told Jay his father headed up one of Delaware’s largest Chevy dealerships and gave him the car as a wedding present. That confused Timmy because he always thought Joe came from the working-class where nobody owned a new car let alone a Corvette that cost about $5,600 in 1966.

After 11 years as a chauffeur for Judge Dombroski, supported by a few extra under-the-table bucks hauling corpses as a professional pall bearer, Timmy Kelly stood ready for public office. Our man in Scranton was ready for leadership. Just like Joe.

Over at police headquarters, Casey Weatherhogg tried to persuade his 95-year-old mother, Mabel, to come home and not start any more trouble, at least not yet.

Please, Ma, he said. The magistrate told me he knows and respects our family roots and wants to release you on your own recognizance.

Screw her and the Democrats she rode in on, Mabel said.

Ma, the cops are only charging you with disorderly conduct. The judge will likely recommend community service, Casey said.

My community service is growing weed in the attic, Mabel said. I might fire up another joint at my preliminary hearing.

Aw, Ma, why would you do that?

To show Joe Biden and all his lace curtain Green Ridge lickspittles that since the country’s gone to pot, the people need to go to pot too.