Funny how?

The club is almost totally silent, except for Tommy's voice. He is telling a story, with his group of henchmen crowded around his table. Some have valid looks of interest on their faces, and some have heard this kind of story before, obviously faking their enthusiasm for it.

The club is dimly lit, with the small lamp in the middle of the table illuminating the men's faces. Ray is the closest to Tommy. He is leaned back with his elbow on the table, smoking a cigarette and listening intenty to Tommy. His face is filled with awe and respect for Tommy. Ray hasn't been in the gang for long; he is least tenured member. Cleary, he his trying to gain the respect of Tommy, the most adored, and the most feared, of the group.

Tommy is recalling a conversation he had with a cop during a failed bank robbery some time back. "I'm in the middle of the fucking weeds, laying down." "The cop comes over and says what are you doin'?" "I said I'm resting."

The group laughs everytime Tommy pauses, which isn't often. His diction doesn't allow for breaks in the action, and his Italian accent looms heavy on every word. Tommy is still talking.

"So uh, what are you gonna tell us tough guy?" "I'm gonna tell you my usual, nothing, zero." "No, you're gonna tell me something today, tough guy." "Alright, I'll tell you something. Go fuck your mother."

The group explodes. Ray laughs the loudest, looking around for approval. The laughing is so loud you can barely hear Tommy explaning the sounds of the beating he took from the cop for his comment.

Tommy tells of how he wakes up, and of how the cop was still there. He asked him again to tell him something, but Tommy again so politely refused. Another beating. Another explosion of laughter. Tommy stops his story to take a drink, all the time muttering under his breath about the "prick cop". The laughter dies down, and Ray says quietly, "You're funny. You're reallll funny."

Tommy stops drinking. With a confused smile on his face, he says "What do you mean, I'm funny?" Ray laughs even louder, and explains that the story was funny, that Tommy was a funny guy.

Tommy looks around at the men at the table, all of whom dressed in suits. "What do you mean, the way I talk?" Tommy asks. The table is suddently slient. No more laugher, no more talking. It's just Tommy and Ray. The rest of the table sits nervously.

Ray takes a drink, and sits back in his chair. "You know, it's just funny." "The way you tell the story and everything. It's just funny."

Tommy leans all the way forward in his chair. He looks Ray directly in the eyes and asks sterny, "Funny how?" "What's funny about it?"

A man from the group speaks up behind Ray. "No Tommy, you got it all wrong." Tommy cuts the man off. "Whoa, Anthony, he's a big boy." "He knows what he said." "What you say?"

Ray and Tommy now hold the attention of the entire club. The men and the table no longer make eye contact with anyone, sipping their drinks with their head down. The patrons of the club quit eating and drop their napkins to listen. They've seen this before; they know what Tommy's capable of.

Ray brings his shoulders up to his chin and leaves them there. "You know, you're funny," he stutters as he waves his hands from side to side, not knowing what else to say.

"Okay, let me get this straight, cause I don't know, maybe I'm a little fucked up, but I'm funny how? Like a clown? Do I amuse you? I make you laugh? I'm here to fucking amuse you?" Tommy's voice is becoming more upset, and he is biting his upper lip, quickly losing his patience. "What the, fuck, is so funny about me?" "Tell me, tell me what's so funny."

The entire club is completely slient, and Ray's mouth is open and staying that way. He doesn't blink, he doesn't move, he just stares at Tommy in disbelief and terror. He too, knows that Tommy has no conscious, that Tommy has loyalty to only one man. And that man sure as hell anit Ray.

Ray suddenly smiles, puts his hands up, and says, "Get the fuck outta here Tommy."

"That motherfucker, I almost had him," Tommy points. He looks around, not believing that Ray had fallen for his trick. The table lets out a relieved laugh, and resumes with their drinks. A waiter, who had been standing at the table at the beginning of the conversation, to scared to move, fans himself with the menu he had been holding.

Now this waiter, quietly laughing and nervously smiling, sensing an in, leans down towards Tommy. The conversation between Tommy and Ray had been tense, very tense, but at least it didn't end in violence.

The waiter, however, was not to be so lucky.