Fish Wishes and Fish Dreams: The Story of Old Skool Joe

Chapter 1

Our story begins at a small restaurant in the middle of the desert named The Fish Joint. It is a small establishment with only six tables, and a small lunch counter with three bar stools in front of it. Behind the countertop is a rectangular window to a small kitchen where young Ryan “Tubey “Wilcox is hard at work frying fish and French fries at a frantic pace. Ryan is an average sized man maybe 5’ 9 or so with short black hair; he wore sleek stylish glasses, his skin slightly tanned from countless hours spent in the kitchen. Ryan wore a white t-shirt, black pants and slip resistant shoes under his white apron and company chef hat. He worked hard to support his fledgling family and took great pride in his work ethic, even if it was simply cooking fish at a shitty restaurant on the outskirts of Las Cruces, New Mexico. Sitting on a counter behind Ryan was an African-American gentleman about six feet tall, wearing a blue Adidas mesh tracksuit with black stripes going down the sides and a matching Kangol fisherman-style hat. His name is Old School Joe, although he would have you spell it Old Skool Joe, not that he can’t read…he just thinks it looks cool. But I digress. Old Skool Joe is in fact quite old, but he has a young-looking face which causes people a lot of confusion. No one really knows the actual age of this man, and to save you some headaches as you continue reading, we advise that you don’t think too much about these matters, as it will only anger and confuse you. Anyway. So Old Skool Joe is sitting on the counter crumbling marijuana buds on to an old magazine resting on his lap. He continued the blunt rolling process as he looked up at Ryan frenziedly moving about the kitchen. Old Skool Joe smiled and asked, “Yo Tubey! Why the fuck are you working so hard for? Like…who are you even cooking for? Doris and them? Come on man fuck that let’s go do a trash run and smoke this blunt, put all of that shit on simmer or something.” Ryan paused for a second to look at Old Skool Joe and then let out a subtle sigh “I would really like to do a trash run bud. You know I would, but I have to get this food out. You know how cranky those old ladies get.” Old Skool Joe stood up from his seat on the counter freshly rolled blunt in hand and proclaimed “Man don’t worry about that! I know how to handle Doris.” He waved the blunt around whimsically at Ryan, who cracked a smile, then took off his white apron and flung it to the ground as they escaped out the back door leading to a back alley with a large brown trash bin. Large black trash bags lined the wall of the restaurant minus a small gap where two sets of milk crates in stacks of three sat. Old Skool Joe sat on one of the milk crate stacks and lit his cigar while Ryan began throwing trash bags into the bin. Old Skool Joe blew out a huge cloud of smoke and looked up towards the clear blue afternoon sky. It was autumn in the desert and the air was cool and crisp. The smell of roasted green chilies engulfed the air. “Damn Tubey it wasn’t always like this. I used to be a fucking headliner! I used to sell out shows. Did you know in 1984 I had the number one selling album in the country? Yeah, no bullshit. You’ve never heard the classic album Old Skool Joe’s in Town? Not even gold selling sophomore album Old Skool Joe’s Back in Town? Man, you young motherfuckers don’t know shit about music. Look that shit up on your phone right now…shit I got to be up to twenty million views at least.” Ryan threw another bag into the bin and removed his cell phone from his pocket. He pulled up his web browser, typed in the mentioned albums, then grabbed another trash bag. “Nope says here that Michael Jackson had the number one album. In fact, there is no mention of you at all.” Old Skool Joe stood up and passed the blunt to Ryan “Man fuck those computers, they don’t know shit! I was on top of the world. I had it all money, fame. The year was 1984…” Ryan let out a faint grunt as he deposited another bag. “Let me stop you there Old School…is this going to be another long story? I really have to get back to work, Doris is gonna be pissed.” Ryan took another drag of the marijuana filled cigar and passed it to Old Skool Joe , who as he inhaled the smoke proclaimed ” You think I give a fuck about those red hat wearing bitches! I’m Old Skool Joe the man, the myth, the legend! I once sold out Madison Square Garden. They used to chant my name. Old Skool Joe, Old Sk’…”

The back door of the restaurant flung open. A red aluminum cane spun through the air striking Old Skool Joe on the back of the head rendering him unconscious.

*******

New York City, 1984 In the back office of the Disco Fever a small dance club in the Bronx, an Italian man appears to be arguing with a stuffed Pink Panther doll (we’ll get to that in a minute), while a young Hispanic gentleman of average height with a healthy salt and pepper colored mane, a talking hamster( we’ll get to that too), and Old Skool Joe stand quietly behind the stuffed animal. The Italian man with the black pompadour, bronze skin, thick black mustache, and cheap beige suit is Sal P. owner of the world famous Disco Fever. A New York City dance club where many legendary rappers made their debut. The Hispanic gentleman with the salt and pepper colored hair is DJ 3Z3, one of the baddest DJ’s in the city. He wore a burgundy Adidas track suit with a gold rope chain with a large gold 3 attached resting beneath is grey goatee. He is Old Skool Joe’s DJ and right hand man. The stuffed animal is in fact no stuffed toy at all. His full name is Pinkerous Pinkerton and is from a small planet in the Andromeda system known as Detroiticus. Unfortunately it is not time to delve further into this story. As far as Old Skool Joe is concerned he is a talking Pink Panther doll who handles his business affairs. We will learn more about the Pink Panther as the story continues. The hamster’s name is Bucky but on stage he goes by MC Bucky B.He is Old Skool Joe’s hype man(hamster). No one knows how Bucky gained the ability to talk, probably because they were too busy snorting cocaine. See Bucky did drugs, lots of drugs, like every single drug in the book. Bucky spent his formative years locked in a cage. Some might even call him institutionalized. Especially his first wife may she rest in peace…we told her not to sit on the food. Sal stood up from the chair behind his desk and hollers “ Like I told you before, I’m not going to fucking book you guys anymore! I respect you and all Mr. Pink but you are deep into it with some pretty bad dudes. I told you not to mess with those guys.” The Pink Panther stood up on his chair and hopped onto Sal’s desk. He grabbed a bottle of whisky that happened to be sitting there and took a long drink. Then slammed the bottle over Sal’s head knocking him unconscious. The Pink Panther reached into Sal’s jacket pocket as he lay sprawled out on top of his desk and pulled out a set of keys. He looked back at Old Skool Joe and the crew and calmly said “Run along and do your little rap show or whatever. I have some management type things that I have to do back here. Break a leg, or something like that.” Old Skool Joe shrugged and turned to his band mates “Alright fuck it let’s go rock the house.” He gave Bucky B and DJ 3Z3 a high five and they made their way to the stage brimming with confidence. DJ 3Z3 walked on to the stage first, stood behind the turntables, then put on his headphones. The crowd cheered wildly as he dropped the needle on the record and the beat dropped. 3Z3 began his legendary scratch routine as MC Bucky B hit the stage and yelled into the microphone “ One two, one two, MC Bucky B in the place to be and if you are ready for Old Skool Joe make some noise!” The cheers grew even louder as Old Skool Joe took the stage and stood behind the microphone stand with his arms folded. The crowd began to chant “Old Skool Joe, Old Skool Joe, Old…”

*********

Old Skool Joe opened his eyes to to see Tubey standing over him. “School Joe, Old School Joe are you alright?” Old Skool Joe dusted himself off and snatched the blunt out of Ryan’s hand. Old Skool Joe stood up, took a drag of the cigar and asked “Yeah I’m fine…yo what the fuck happened man?” Ryan replied “Doris opened up the back door and heard you talking shit. Something about how cool you were in 1984. Dude I was born in 1995 I don’t even know what an album is.But yeah bro she threw her cane at you like she was a ninja turtle.It was actually pretty amazing.” Old Skool Joe dusted himself off and took one last pull off of the blunt before flicking the roach on the floor. “Yeah you would say that instead of helping me. Shit, we better get inside and get this food out. I don’t want any static with the Red Hat Gang.” The two men walked back inside. Ryan resumed his kitchen duties as Old Skool Joe made his way to the dining room. It was a slow day with only one occupied table where Doris, Sophie, and Ethel sat. They all wore purple dresses with red hats and matching brioches. The women were all members of the deadly Red Hat Gang. Operating under the guise of widows who meet for lunch; the Red Hat Gang is in fact one of the largest criminal enterprises in the world. They had their hands in everything from drugs, prostitution, racketeering, and smuggling, with chapters all over the globe.

Doris is the boss of the local chapter and a very sturdy woman. She has short white hair beneath her large red hat, and walks with a heavy golden cane. Doris might not move fast, but it’s because she doesn’t have to move for anyone. Ethel might be frail in stature but don’t let that fool you. She is the capo and one of the most feared killers in the region. Short and slim usually in a floral patterned dress, with her thick black framed glasses, which hid her ice cold beady blue eyes. Sophie is third in command and a little bit more laid back. She was Doris’s assistant and right hand. Sophie did not talk much, but listened closely remembering every detail since the Red Hat Gang did not keep records. Old Skool Joe approached the women with a huge smile as they sat and sipped their martini’s. He rubbed the back of his head and asked “Damn Doris why’d you hit me like that? I was just playing around.” Doris smiles and motions him to sit and join them. They are sitting at a round table, Doris in the middle flanked by Sophie and Ethel. Old Skool Joe sits in the chair directly facing Doris. The boss of The Red Hat Gang calmly explains ” I’m sorry honey, but I can’t just have you talking just any kind of way about me in front of people. It sends the wrong message. A message that we are to be fucked with, and that simply can not be. So even though I love you baby, and you and that Pink Panther make a lot of money for us, but if you ever disrespect like that again I’ll bury all 46 of you if you catch my drift.”

She stood up and walked over behind Old Skool Joe. Doris knelt down, wrapped her arms around his neck, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. ” Now run along handsome and fetch us some fish sandwiches we are just dying of hunger over here.” Old Skool Joe stood up, adjusted his Kangol fisherman hat, fixed his collar, then walked towards the kitchen. He flung open the door to see Ryan hard at work removing the fish from the oil and letting the baskets drain. Old Skool Joe grabbed some plates off of the counter, as Ryan removed three buns from the flat grill. As they put the sandwiches together Ryan asked “So what did you do to piss of those sweet old ladies?” Old Skool Joe leaned in slightly and quietly said “Man if you think those old bags with the red hats are just some sweet old ladies, then you are just as dumb as you look in that fish hat. Those old ladies are a part of one of the most dangerous gangs in the world. You better be careful around them. They can make you disappear real fast. But it’s cool though Doris loves me. So yeah be careful I actually need to check out and get back to my other job at the fake magazine.” Ryan sighed slightly annoyed and replied “You mean you’re going back to your apartment to smoke weed with your teddy bear.” Old Skool Joe made his way to the back door turned around and answered “ Yeah there. It’s a tough life but I make it work. Don’t let Pink Panther hear you talking like that he’ll kick ya’ ass. Alright man I’m out I’ll catch you tomorrow.” Old Skool Joe closed the door and stepped out. He walked down the street and sat on a bus stop bench. He pulled a joint out of his pocket, lit it up, sat back and closed his eyes.

******

New York City, 1984

Old Skool Joe and MC Bucky B stand tall on the stage with DJ 3Z3 behind them. The Pink Panther climbed up a wooden stool just off stage behind a black curtain, sat down, then began counting a huge wad of money. The crowd chanted repeatedly. “Old Skool Joe” The beat dropped and Old Skool Joe grabbed the mic. “I’m Old Skool Joe and I’m in town. One of the baddest MC’s that’s around Some people get up, but I get down. So I say it again Old Skool Joe’s in town.” The crowd erupted with a huge cheer. Old Skool Joe folded his arms and looked up to the sky.

*****

A bus pulls up. Old Skool Joe licks his thumb and forefinger lightly, then presses on the lit cherry on his joint extinguishing the flame. He boards the bus heading to a small two bedroom apartment in the middle of the desert. That is a whole story in itself, and we will discuss it later. For now this has been the first of many stories about the man, the myth, the legend…Old Skool Joe.

(to be continued)

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