Mo’s Pizzaria — Landover, MD

17 Apr

When we got there in the morning they had boarded up the windows and we knew why. They had closed down our shithole–this time for good. Christ, we always said we’d leave someday–but on our own. And now there was nothing left to do but stand there feeling sorry for ourselves and Mo. But mostly for ourselves because we didn’t get out of it in time. It was the fifth time this month the crackheads broke into our place of work so Mo decided he’d had enough.
“I got to close the joint for good,” he said to us. “I’m sorry fellas…” and he was; we could tell.
It was a cold morning and we just stood there shrugging. And all the bravado and macho shit we shot about the lousy job the past few years went down the toilet with our hearts and paychecks.
“It’s OK Mo, we’ll go somewhere,” Stu said and Mo went back inside to his wife and the boards on the windows.
Mo was an immigrant like us. And like all immigrants he had a dream…and a shithole for a restaurant.
“You want to go somewhere?” Stu asked. “I have some money. We could get a drink.”
We got back in the car and drove out away from the place.


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