Furry Tales Volume IV: A Compilation of Stuff

By Pete Bellisano

A short book containing a little humor and a few off-beat stories.
An ode to Italian-American Christmas traditions, a silly play about Jesus' last night on earth, and a few short stories with spiritual themes.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pete Bellisano
• Release date: Dec 30, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463891704

Book preview

Furry Tales

Volume IV

A Compilation of Stuff

By Pete Bellisano

Furry Tales Volume IV: A Compilation of Stuff

Copyright 2019 by Pete Bellisano

(Copy wrong by anyone else)

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without prior written permission of the author/publisher, except in the case of brief quotations used in reviews.

Other than members of the author's family (living and deceased), the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation to anyone bearing the same name. Any resemblance to individuals known or unknown to the author is purely coincidental.

With thanks, this book is dedicated to…

For starters, I’d like to thank God for giving us ten fingers and toes, without which the whole base-ten numbering system thing would be extremely cumbersome. I’d also like to thank my parents, but they’re both deceased.

And thanks to…

Napoleon, without whom short guys would have a complex with no name

Sister Martha from Our Lady of Perpetual Misery (my Catholic grammar school), for teaching me how to take a punch

The guy who invented Ragu, who made it possible for me to explain to my in-laws what tomato sauce does NOT taste like

All the guys from the old neighborhood with the middle name The, especially Johnny The Hook, Vinnie The Wrench and Jimmy The Screwdriver. Don’t ask.

You, for reading this!

Preface

A couple of years ago, I packaged various stories and musings into a small book with the intention of getting it printed and delivered as a Christmas gift to a few friends. It was pretty well received and based on their prompting I recently added a couple of new touches and tightened up some of the stories.

I categorize this as a compilation of stuff because it’s a mixture of (attempted) humor, a little poetry, and some (what I guess is referred to as) religious fiction.

Some of my attempts at humor may push the edge of your particular envelop of sensibilities. If so, please try to lighten up. If you do not possess a sense of humor, or yours is impaired, I suggest you re-gift this book without reading it.

I hope you find this amusing and would really appreciate your feedback. You can contact me at [e-mail]

Or via my website: www.stuffbypete.com

Pete Bellisano

Table of Incontinence

A Kris-less Story..................................5

Goomba Christmas Eve.....................10

Twelve Hungry Men............................13

Charity..................................................18

The One................................................22

The Return...........................................31

About the Author..................................43

A Kris-Less Story

Hanging his frayed leather jacket on the back of the bar stool, Queep whispered to his friend, What’ll ya have, Pizzie? Forcing his voice to sound as deep as he could, Pizzie growled back, Call me Hank! I told you three times, my name is Hank now. Placing his hand on the arm of his old friend, Queep shook his head and said, sorry, Hank. What’ll ya have? Trying desperately to look nonchalant, Pizzie jumped up onto the bar stool, rolled up his sleeves and grumbled, bourbon and a beer, what else? And, by the way, if the bartender hits me with the ‘how ‘bout a short one’ line, this stool is going across his skull.

Queep tried to suppress a chuckle at his friend’s affected voice, which sounded disturbingly like John Wayne after a hit from a helium balloon. Hey, Hank, it’s cool. Tommy’s a good guy, so get the chip off your shoulder, ok? Then, to the bartender, Hey, Tommy, when you get a minute! Tommy lumbered over, easily the biggest man Pizzie had ever seen. Reaching out his massive hand, Tommy looked Pizzie square in the eye and smiled. Name’s Tommy, nice ta meet ya. Sitting up as tall as he could, Pizzie squeezed tightly and growled, Hank. Same here, pal. Tommy relaxed his hand and let Pizzie win the grip contest, wondering if he realized that his hand felt like that of an eight-year-old in Tommy’s enormous paw. So, what’ll it be guys?

When Tommy turned to fetch their drinks, Queep leaned into Pizzie and asked, So, tell me Piz- I mean Hank- tell me how you’re doing. Things had been tough on the whole crew since the big layoff five years before. Everyone hoped it was temporary until word came out that the factory was to be demolished. How do you think I’m doing, Queep? I’ve just about burned through my pension money and I haven’t been able to land a job yet. Claretta left me six months ago, and I don’t know which way to turn. The bottom fell out, man. You seem to be doing ok; what’s your story?

Queep thanked Tommy for dropping off the drinks, took a draw on his beer and said, Well, the old man was pretty good about annual bonuses, and I was lucky enough to invest them pretty well, so I have enough dough to live on for another year or two if I’m careful. Using both his hands, which barely encircled his beer mug, Pizzie toasted his friend’s luck and took a long gulp. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he grunted, good fer you, old buddy.

Taking in the entire picture, Queep began to feel sorry for his friend. It would be devastating to him if he were to realize that the exaggeratedly macho affectations came across as comical, not masculine. He silently wished that Pizzie would quit trying to be something he was not.

Well, said Pizzie, ain’t nothin’ out there for out-of-work elves anymore. I mean, who’ll hire me, and for what? What am I gonna do, catch on with a circus? Even if I were to sink to that level, with all this PC crap going on, nobody even wants to make fun of elves anymore! I used to think elves who sold out were losers, but then I think about what Aurelius did, and I wonder who’s the loser.

Aurelius was the supervisor of the radio assembly shop, until the advent of TV drove demand down to the point where they had to shut the line down. Aurelius was just about the smartest elf Queep had ever met, and there were rumors that his IQ was in the one-sixties. Queep had mixed feelings about how Aurelius had coped with the layoff. No one could question how successful he’d been, but somehow it didn’t