An Economy of Words at Ned's

He was an economy of words that first day he walked in here, thought Ned. Now he won’t shut up.

Craven Danger sat at the end of the bar telling tales to the fellas.

“It was just after midnight, and there I was, running across the 59th st. bridge in my underwear.”

“Your underwear?” said Ned.

“It was all I had left after fighting my way out of McGoon’s getaway car; that, and my fedora.”

You fought your way out of a thugs getaway car? I’m to assume this McGoon had accomplices?”

“Six plus McGoon made seven.”

“And you made it eight. Seven grown men working you over in the back of a getaway car?”

“Six. The driver kept his eye on the road the whole time. Gotta give him points for that.”

“Six thugs working you over in the back of a getaway car and you managed to keep your fedora?”

“I held on to it the whole time.”

“You mean to tell me you didn’t fight back?”

“Didn’t have to. Pretty tight quarters back there, not one of them ruffians got their licks in, but they sure did put the squeeze on me. I’ve never been so mushed in my whole life. Like a Time Square shuttle train during rush hour. And I swear one of those mugs pinched my rump on purpose. I still blush when I think about it. Also, I ended up with this hickey on my neck. That could have been Betty, but I doubt it. The look of it is definitely sadistic. Betty may be aggressive, but she’s no sadist.”

“How’d you get out?”

“I managed to roll down the window and slide out like a well-oiled sardine. That was one sweaty mess back there. I don’t think they knew I was gone, because the car didn’t stop after I hit the pavement. So I’m guessing they were still putting the squeeze on each other pretty good by the time they got to their hideout.”

“How’d you end up in that car in the first place?”

“I was just about to enter the First National bank on 86th just as a masked McGoon and his like-minded henchmen were coming out.”

“How’d ya know it was McGoon?”

“He made the mistake of saying. Hi, Craven, and I said, Hi, Froggy.”

“Froggy?”

He was called Froggy because of his deep baritone; we were in the boy's choir at grade school. So when McGoon realized I had him fingered, he stops in his tracks and tosses me into the back of the car, with his whole sweaty squad squeezing in behind me. I still squirm in my sleep. Thugs are one smelly breed.”

“Remind me to stay on the other end of the bar next time you come in here on nickel beer night. I’ll slide ‘em down to ya. It’s easier on the ears.”

Photo courtesy of Wiki Commons: 

https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?search=Al+Capones+getaway+car%...