I Woke Next to the Corpse by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview

A Fish Story

“Galupo Brothers Fish Emporium” occupied the lowest level of a three story apartment building on transitional and lowly trafficked 15th Street and Avenue C since before anybody was born. I’d be over there sometimes, but most often had to look away from Galupo’s when I’d see the tanks in the windows populated by little fish floating on their sides at or near the tank tops.

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They were unattended, and gasping for air like a long gone fag addict in need of a trip to Saratoga Springs, or barring that willing to settle for a fix. No joke, I found this extremely upsetting and would have liked to have torture-killed all three of the Galupo brothers whose criminal inattention allowed this to happen.

Joey, the eldest Galupo brother, was the most responsible, always there and always wearing that same Irish tweed coat with some badly worn spots, with a lot of foulard tie bulging out like Irish luggage which was rainspotted above his crossed lapels. Joey was the one who spent the most time at the emporium, while the presences of Johnny and James were sporadic.

In the case of the former, he was an unrepentant masher who fancied himself a Lothario with a dedication;

I Woke Next to the Corpse