August 10, 2007
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Flip's Hole: Flip the Artiste
Flip's Hole
Many years ago, and just shortly after we were married, my wife told me I should use my time learning to write stories. It seemed harmless and, in a way, a wonderful way to pass time. I started. I stunk. I probably still do a terrible job of writing stories, but now... thanks to the internet... I can bore more people with them than ever.
My friend, Bircan started me off by using some of the early stories on her website... long before this blog existed. She still issues some of my writing there in her archives and current issue. You can visit this site at: http://www.lightmillennium.org/index.html It is in Turkish and English. Take your pick.
You may have noticed a few other stories are running here simulataneously. I am putting a few of them up here for storage and eventually when all the pieces are in place I will try to organize them logically and in order. For now it will have to remain a jumble as Xanga does not allow the writers to post anything in more than date order.
How many Flip's Hole stories have I written? Many. It began with a small place that used to be on 32nd Street off of Park Avenue. I worked across the street. My first day on the job [in 1971] I walked into the place for lunch. I had many more lunches there over the years. The owner was a fellow who looked very much like the character actor Mike Mazurki. His name was Phil DeGaetano. Phil is the model for Flip, in appearance only. All the other characters are fictional, save for a very real Lori, the narrator's love interest and Flip's only child. I named her for an old friend, who I still adore in many ways, Lori Giordano. I think they would behave identically and Lori can shoot me for that.
The real "Phil's Lunch" no longer exists. All things pass away and so did this postage stamp sized coffee shop. The parking lot on the south side of 32nd Street is still there, but the sign on the wall above it that said "Let me Phil you up" is gone. THe fictional Flip's Hole got it's name from a sign above the small store that said "Flip's Hole in the Wall Coffee Shop". A storm broke the sign in two and half was thrown away, leaving only "Flip's Hole". It is an amusing note that some might read this as a reference to something about one's lower anatomy. I'll let the few stories I've salvaged from among the many lost stories speak for themselves. Here is one called "Flip The Artiste":
"Take that thing down," said Flip. He was talking to Lori, of course, who was once again trying to bring a ray of sunshine into the otherwise dirty and derelict place known as "Flip's Hole". The Hole is the world's smallest and least important coffee shop. It attracted a host of regulars that I have tried to describe over the years in adventures too unimaginable to believe.
Lori placed her hands on her sizeable hips and gave Flip the malocchio, the evil eye. It was an unspoken dare that said in one look that not only was she NOT taking the painting down, Flip was not going to touch it either.
I took a look at the thing and was amused. It was a picture of a cat dressed in a Victorian frilled collar and blouse. The cat was smoking a cigarette, but looked otherwise quite like a short-haired, white cat. I was told the painting was called "Aunt White". Lori also told me it was by the famous artist Donald Roller Wilson. I did not understand much about this fellow, but after looking at more of his work I began to sense the humor behind it.
Flip, no connoisseur or patron of the arts, was more inclined to see paintings depicting dogs playing cards. These paintings, done on velvet, are supposed to be the lowest class and the lowest taste in art... much like paintings of Elvis Presley on velvet. It fit Flip DeGaetano to a T.
No matter how low his taste was, old Flip did not think the Hole was the place for any kind of painting. For one thing, a painting in a frame attracted dust. Flip was well known for not dusting. Everything pretty much was left as it was in the Hole. The tables in the back dining room were left covered with boxes to discourage their use. Dirt covered both boxes and tables. The most notorious grime was the lengthy string of dirt that hung above the cauldron of soup that Flip kept warm on his hot plate burner. It was never longer and never shorter, but always poised above the soup like a Damoclean sword ready to drop at any given moment.
"We don't need it". It was not a royal "We" that Flip was using. He was attempting to speak for the many customers who, given the narrowness between the counter and the wall on which "Aunt White" was hung, would surely be bumping into it. It was bound to be knocked down with every passerby, coming or going... just as coats were knocked off the hooks on the back wall. Flip had a point, but Lori was immune to her father's logic. He was all too often wrong, in her opinion.
Buddy Taub sauntered in and looked at the new addition. "Fax looks better than this babe", he said. "What's with the picture?". Buddy was referring to our store cat, whose name was Fax. Lori normally ignored Buddy, but she was going to make her will made known to all of us. "It is my effort to bring a little class to this place. The whole wall should be filled with art and it will be. This is a very expensive work of art and you should have some respect for it." Lori reached out to Fax to show her the new "cat" in the store. Fax was having none of it. She leaped out of Lori's range and back into the kitchen. I suspect that Fax was smarter than any of the rest of us. A loud clatter and some curses in Spanish led me to think that Fax's escape route toppled something over and that Jesse Dominguez, the cook and delivery man, had some cleaning to do.
"It stays". Lori's last word. Her mom would be proud of her. Mrs. Marie DeGaetano was not only the one with the last word in the DeGaetano household, but one suspects that she even gave God an earful when He had it coming.
All this serves as a nice review of many of the names I've bandied about in my notes about Flip's Hole. My name is Bart, former production manager for the Pasmezoglu Publishing Company, now future husband to Lori and bottle washer to Flip.
How did the rest of the day go? Well, as you can imagine "Aunt White" got a lot of stares and more than a few smiles. Take out customers loved it, but those who sat on the stools invariably knocked it down and had to put it back up. By the end of the day "Aunt White" had been on the floor more often than a fleet of drunken sailors on liberty. The frame was starting to show a little wear.
Morris Ippai, known as "Moe" to his friends, took a look at the thing and asked "Why is the cat smoking? Isn't it illegal to smoke in the store?". Rudy Giuliani had enacted several measures to all but eliminate smoking in public places, and Moe Ippai was making a wonderful joke at Lori's expense. She glared at him. Flip lit a cigarette and took a puff.
"Moe, this is the god-damned USA. I spent a year in Korea to fight for freedom and I'll be darned if anyone is going to remove my rights without a fight. If the cat can smoke in here, so can I. Sue me." I could see Flip was starting to appreciate the cat a bit more. Lori glared not only at Ippai, but back at Flip. Lori hated smoking. Lori hated farting. Basically her idea of the world's best husband was a man with a cork in his mouth and in his... well, you know.
"I'm only a sign painter and window washer, but I can paint the cigarette out, if you want me to. I'd give you a good price." Lori glared at him even more. I think Ippai got the message as he turned to eat his tuna fish on rye.
Sigmund Schnipple turned up for a coffee and knocked the painting to the floor. It took him a few minutes to find the right angle to be able to lift the frame without damaging it and a few more to hang it back on the hook. "Where'd you get this albatross?", he asked. Lori stared at him, too and the silence was deafening. Flip had his back to the world and was ignoring the whole thing.
Mrs. Mohendas, a teacher from nearby Norman Thomas High School, stopped in and took a peek. "Why that looks just like my old cat Fluffy." Buddy Taub could not resist the opening. "So, was Fluffy a pack a day smoker?". Mrs. Mohendas cleared her throat and stared at Taub much as Lori did. A weaker man would have shrunk from the formidable looks of these two ladies. Taub was unaffected, lacking sufficient brain power or heart to be so moved.
Mrs. Von Frompsing was next in line. She looked at the painting and a let out a shriek. "Oh, where did you ever find this? It is an original Donald Roller Wilson. Why is such a priceless treasure hanging in a dump like this?".
"This ain't no dump," yelled Lori... but Flip was now interested. He knew Mrs. Von Frompsing was a lady with more money than Bill Gates. She was very frugal, which explains her habit of eating at Flip's. The quality was lacking, but he was also cheap.
"This painting is famous?", asked Flip.
"Oh! A Roller Wilson original canvas is very priceless. His artwork is constantly going up in value. If I could only have a few of his pieces, I'd have the dear man put to sleep. Dead artists are so much more valuable, you know."
"How much did this cost, Lori?" Flip was now VERY interested in art.
"It ain't important."
"How much?"
"I got a good deal."
"How much is a good deal?" Flip raised his eyebrows. When a DeGaetano does this it means the talking portion of the exchange is over. Lori muttered something.
"What? Speak up. I want to hear what you paid for this."
"Eight", said Lori.
"Eight? That's a bit high, but OK. I think I can afford eight bucks."
Mrs. Von Frompsing was laughing now. "More like eight thousand, Flip. Don't you know what art costs? Why Roller Wilson's collected book of art prints was sold originally for $10 and is now worth 15 times that... if you can find it."
Flip looked sick. He looked at Lori and mouthed the question again. No utterance, just the movement of his lips asking her 'how much'?
"Uh, Hundred".
"What! You spent a hundred dollars for this?" Flip misunderstood, as usual.
"Eight Hundred." Lori finally said clearly.
Flip looked at the painting of "Aunt White" and shook his head. He was so mortified that he could not speak.
"Well, that certainly is a bargain. I'll give you a thousand for it. It is vintage Wilson, after all."
Flip put his hand over Lori's mouth, which she promptly bit... but not before he could shout out "SOLD".
Mrs. Von Frompsing wrote out the check and Flip saw it as a $200 profit. Lori was incensed that her efforts to sanitize the Hole had been frustrated again. No one else seemed much to care. The painting had not been around long enough.
When Sigmund Schnipple came in the next day he noticed it was gone. "Where is it?", he asked, having wondered where his wrestling partner went.
Buddy looked up from his soup with an evil smile. "Dunno. I think it was in heat and just vanished." Fax did not find this a bit funny. Her glaring eyes matched those of Lori, who sat in a corner holding onto Fax. Flip looked at the empty wall and smiled. I wondered what would happen next. In this place something always happens next.There is a real Donald Roller Wilson, artist. View his work at:
