The Tiger's Paw

"Getaway pt. 2"

noreply@blogger.com (JMuraco) — Fri, 08 Aug 2008 07:14:00 +0000

Sitting in the smokey jazz cafe
Playing Gin Rummy until sunrise
We planned the stakeout carefully
Waiting for the order to come down

I puffed contentedly on my pipe
and watched events go down
Keeping my eyes low I pretended to watch my cards
Sipped the virgin rum and played it cool

Bossa Nova in full swing
A wisp of smoke rose from the bowl of my briar
The rebels were here but we went unnoticed
Maybe they came for the whiskey and the women

My pipe went out
The glass empty
We were made
Time to go
The jeeps were ready
Twenty paces stage left and we were rolling
A caravan of chaos

Dead Souls

noreply@blogger.com (JMuraco) — Tue, 08 Jul 2008 06:04:00 +0000

Mama used to make a big feast on Sunday evenings complete with appetizers, several courses and at least four dessert choices. We kids would always try to get stray pieces of parmesean cheese while Papa hand-shaved a block for the bruschetta. Unlike most Italian families we never had any wine at the table. We never had any alcohol in the house at all. Papa used to say that he was allergic to wine but I think his reasons for abstaining went much deeper than he let on. That was Papa, always wanted to protect us from everything including himself if need be.

Each night after dinner I would sit next to my father's chair as he would sip espresso while smoking his pipe and listening to old Italian folk songs. Sometimes he would sing along to the music in the old language. Mama would finish in the kitchen then come into the parlor and sit across from Papa. She always served ice water with slices of fresh lemon then sat back to enjoy the music and the scent of Papa's pipe smoke. He had so many beautiful hand-crafted pipes that were a joy to look at as well as smell. When it was my bedtime I kissed my parents and snuggled into my comfortable bed. The house felt, sounded and smelled so good. I always fell asleep very quickly during those times.

One night I woke up and heard some men talking downstairs. Mama was already asleep in her bed so I quietly walked to the stairs and saw Papa speaking with three other men in the living room. The men were dressed in suits that looked quite expensive. Papa spoke to them in Italian and they seemed to understand what he was saying. One of the men spoke in English and said "Looks like a long night, eh?" Then my father put his jacket on and left the house along with the three other men.

I never saw my father again after that night. My mother refused to discuss anything about him other than to scold us for asking. Eventually we knew never to inquire any more. Our house never felt the same again. There was, however, a lot of wine in the house after that.

Six months ago I was having dinner at a restaurant with my wife and children when a customer came in that I recognized immediately. It was one of the men that I saw that night speaking Italian with my father in the living room. He was much older than he was that night long ago, but he had the exact same suit on. When he went into the men's bathroom I followed him in. I did not know what to say or how to even bring up the subject of my father or that night. All I knew and cared about was the fact that one of those men was in the very same room as me. He must have felt my eyes upon him because he looked at me through the mirror above the sink. After what seemed like an eternity he said "Looks like a long night, eh?"

The rest you already know because it's all in the police report. The defense lawyer said that if I am lucky I'll get a life sentence without parole. I appreciate your attempt at saving my soul, Father, but that died many years ago. Please be with my family because they need all the prayer and support they can get now.

I have to go. There's this little old Italian guy on kitchen detail that I need to see.

I IS FEATURED!!!

noreply@blogger.com (JMuraco) — Wed, 02 Jul 2008 21:24:00 +0000

Yours truly is currently a featured writer on the EditRed site! Most of my submissions have been some choice picks from this site as well as some exclusive content for EditRed.

Check it out here!

Hedonsim defined

noreply@blogger.com (JMuraco) — Wed, 16 Apr 2008 20:41:00 +0000

Back in Havana, Fidel and I dined on the local paella and rum. Armed with Cohibas in the shade we made our plans to run the contraband up through the back channels of the underground market. The bribes were paid and the bosses were gifted. All that was left was to return the suits back to the mob.

Pavel watched pornographic cartoons on his Blackberry while the trucks were loaded.

The coffee was dark and strong just like our women. Their sweaty muscles shining under the midday sun as they carried crates of cargo onto the dock. Once the sun went down we would trek our convoy out of the city and into the night.

Bible Stories No. 27

noreply@blogger.com (JMuraco) — Fri, 28 Mar 2008 20:26:00 +0000

The evil deity made it's demand: "Worship me or you will surely die and suffer eternal torment!" The prophet preached to the faithful: "Now is the time for Salvation! Resist the Evil One and be free!" The faithful took the message and preached it to the people: "The prophet has spoken the message of Salvation!" The evil deity commanded: "Do not listen to the false prophets for I will destroy you all and torment your souls for eternity!" Some of the faithful grew fearful of the Evil One and broke away from the flock. They started to worship the Evil One in fear of It's wrath. The Evil One spoke to It's followers: "Tell the faithful to worship me. If they refuse, kill them all, men and women. Kill their children too. Leave no heretic living!" Soon, the camp of the faithful was under attack by the cult of the Evil One. The faithful turned to the prophet for refuge. They pleaded "Pray and save us from the Evil One and It's wrath!" The prophet spoke "Woe be to you who follow the Great Evil for you shall be enslaved and blind to your bondage. Resist the Evil One and be free!" The cult of the Great Evil decended upon the faithful and slew them all, men, women and children, until all that was left was the prophet. The Evil One spoke: "Prophet, you shall be bound and imprisoned for one-thousand years and will be tormented for all that time!" As the prophet was bound the Great Evil addressed It's congregation: "Throw him into the Pit of Eternal Flame so that he shall be tormented for one-thousand years and no one shall hear the blasphemous words of Satan". At this, the crowd became silent and a great commotion was raised. The prophet spoke for the final time. "Woe be to you, slaves of the Evil One. I, Satan, was cast from Heaven for resisting the Evil One and came here to warn you and show you the way to Salvation. Do you now see the true evil that enslaves you?" With that, the Great Evil threw Satan into the Pit of Eternal Flame and thus began the new age of blind bondage of the people of God.

"Wrong Number- a true story"

noreply@blogger.com (JMuraco) — Fri, 07 Mar 2008 05:11:00 +0000

"Hello?"
"Who the hell is this?"
"Who the hell do you want?"
"Who the hell did I call?"
"How the hell do I know?"
*click*
*click*

My Brazllian Love Affair

noreply@blogger.com (JMuraco) — Wed, 27 Feb 2008 15:55:00 +0000

In a smokey jazz cafe in Rio
we sat in blowing smoke rings and sipping
margaritas while the bossa nova gently
soothed the souls of those who had come in
for a late night refuge from the steamy heat.

As the music played the locals took to the
dance floor their bodies swaying sensually
to the rhythm. The air was thick with the
scent of rum, tobacco and the perfumed sweat
of the beautiful women whose skin glistened
softly under the moonlight...their brightly
colored dresses and flowers in their hair
gave them the appearance of spirits over the
sea...like angels welcoming one to the gates
of Heaven.

It was a time to remember forever as my
Brazillian love affair.

Short Stories No. 1

noreply@blogger.com (JMuraco) — Thu, 15 Nov 2007 04:09:00 +0000

So I was chatting with one of my other personalities the other night when my third self breaks in and starts an argument...soon the entire mind was in an uproar of civil unrest...needless to say....the party broke up...

Words of Love and Prose: The Cat

noreply@blogger.com (JMuraco) — Thu, 27 Sep 2007 04:50:00 +0000

Cats are magnificent animals. I truly love them more than any other species on this Earth, homo sapiens included. Cats can express love but they chose who they give it to. They are brilliant, beautiful, mysterious, graceful and majestic. Cats don't need anyone. They know they're the superior species.

“A warm spring breeze, a sunbeam shining through a window and the delicate sounds of Nature are all fine, but the presence of the cat completes the setting and creates artistic inspiration.”

"The sophisticated elegance of the cat is not to be underestimated, for in its presence the world becomes the finest art.”

"To a cat, a sunbeam is like a pet from the very hand of God."