Chapter 37: Bastards

My sons are here, today. I watched and helped them be born many hours apart, but all three on the same date. My family is restored. The Friggitello family again has heirs to carry on the family name. We were nearly extinct. We were in everyway already extinct except for me, but no longer. Wasn’t expecting to be this lucky, to have all sons, and look at me, I have three beautiful sons, I’m proud to say. I feel like shouting the news to the world. Such beautiful boys and all ready to help papa begin with exacting revenge.

A little Internet search reveals which editor desks and numbers to call, are responsible for publishing birth announcements in the various west coast newspapers. There are so many papers so the phone calls are equally many, and it takes several hours to complete calling the entire list.

“Friggitello family saved. Three healthy boys are born today to proud papa Joseph Friggitello, who was till today the only survivor of the mob massacre of all Friggitello family male relatives just a decade ago. Sons now exist to continue the Friggitello family name into posterity. The delighted father says he is relieved the family has three fresh chances to survive. Congratulations Joey Peppers!”

That ought to be worth a few votes you bastards won’t get. Some retracted endorsements and canceled donations. Fewer anyway. Get used to pain! More coming. Some reporter is destined to pick up on the story and dredge the entire bloody mess up again.

That should result in some interesting TV interviews! Embarrassing opportunities for certain red-faced ambushed candidates to ad-lib lame comments on the air.

Natasha, Danielle, and Monica are healthy, recuperating quickly and doing just fine, happily nursing and happy except for one tiny glitch, they mistakenly picked out in advance, some stupid boys and girls names which I have rejected and firmly vetoed. Serves them right for being presumptuous. Imagning THEY would be allowed to name my kids! They’ll surely get over their disappointments. Eventually. Imagine if you can, Monica wanted to name our boy Patrick?

Patrick Friggitello? Are you kidding me? The other two are worse! LLoyd Friggitello and Stanley Friggitello? Silly girls. Nix on that shit! I gave the boys strong masculine Neopolitan names.

My first born is named Samuel after my dad, the next born is Anthony after my Uncle Tony, and the youngest is called Caesar, because he’s going to need balls to assert himself with his slightly elder brothers.

I had to put my foot down. Threaten to disown them, an obvious bluff, but the moms don’t know that. If the boys are to be recognized and receive the Friggitello family name from me, then I will also choose the first names, as is the father’s right. Those stupid names the women selected can be middle names but only if they insist on their sons fighting everybody. Why would I permit such outlandish middle monikers? Ever heard of a song, A Boy Named Sue? I hope my sons do grow up proud and feisty with chips on their shoulders.

Today really is a glorious day brimming over with fabulous wonderful news. My darling Gail announces she is pregnant! We did it, and are now so happy, we can’t adequately express it, but I’m whooping it up trying to fully show my joyful feelings!

Speaking of expecting, so is Slick, and she told me her real name is Pamela. We’re also celebrating her hopeful good news, speculation based on the information she believes she’s probably pregnant. She wants to be very much! Here’s sincerely hoping she’s correct.

Of course, Alexandra is expecting to deliver in two more months. Alexandra is the only one with reasonable suggestion for kid’s names. Little Joey after me, if it’s a boy, and Joanna if it’s a girl. How can I reasonably object? Can’t!

Lauren is in stratospheric high spirits too! Dragged me forcibly to her quarters for a celebratory Granny Daddy fucking fiesta! And while I was trying hard to keep up and cooperate, I was repeatedly swept off my stumbling feet, by urgeant Lauren. Which of us is the proudest and happiest? It’s a coin toss.

Life is fine, when it works. Expecting more pleasant tidings tomorrow. Rubbing my hands in gleeful anticipation of the responses I expect to my son’s birth announcements published on the left coast.

I’m not violating any nondisclosure agreement. Wasn’t anything in that document I signed about prohibiting birth announcements and I sure didn’t promise to help the campaigns of the mobsters running for political office. My hope is the bastards waste millions on failed futile races. Dare I hope there may be old unsolved murder investigations reopened if a law and order type wins?

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