Anonymous Sun 09 Jun 2024 06:44:06 No.66452701 Report

Quoted By: >>66452811 >>66453349

>>66452677
Since the art was cute from last time.
Can you write something like Moe baby sitting amber.
Bonus points if Moe has her help in some of the “garbage business” he use to work in.

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Anonymous Sun 09 Jun 2024 07:25:35 No.66453349 Report

Quoted By: >>66453391 >>66453468

>>66452701
>"Uncle Moe, can I make one now?!"
>Amber's been hopping in place beside steel countertop in the back of my kitchens for minutes now. Every little leap is accompanied by a flutter of her little wings, almost seeming to suspend her in the air for a couple seconds long.
>"Aahright Princess, I think ya ready."
>She lets out a squeal of joy, pumping her fists into the air.

>I hadn't expected to be in charge of this little bundle of joy this evening, but honestly? Couldn't be happier.
>It's a nice, warm summer Sunday here in the Bay. In years past, this would've been peak pie hours. We would've had deliveries flying off the shelves.
>Nowadays? Sundays are shutdowns. Maintenance, resupplying, cleaning.
>Truth is, I'm getting long in the tooth, and these old joints ain't as nimble with the grabbers anymore. I've had to start making more time for myself to keep going.
>Don't wanna burn myself out by sixty-five and spend the next couple decades in a home. Nuh uh. I'd like to keep the joint in my hands until I'm blind, dumb and feeble. You're gonna have to wheel me outta here.
>I was in the back, taking inventory when I get a call from none other than Little Lucy. At least, it was her number--her husband was the one to pick up the phone.
>Anon was a good kid, and he turned into a better man. And, frankly, a pretty damn good father.
>Imagine my shock when he asked me of all people to watch Amber for the evening.
>Apparently Lucy suffered a major dehydration strike, and they needed to take her to the hospital.
>According to Rip, she's been seeming off for the past couple of weeks.
>We all gotta feeling she's expecting again.
>I said I'd take her, of course I would, but I couldn't help but ask, "Why me?"
>Everyone else is busy, out of town or otherwise unable to be reached. Go figure.
>Half an hour after the call ended, a six-year-old bundle of sunshine and feathers was dropped off at the pizzeria.

cont

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Anonymous Sun 09 Jun 2024 07:35:19 No.66453468 Report

Quoted By: >>66453640

>>66453349
>How the hell is an old-timer like me meant to keep a little punk like this entertained for God knows how long?
>I like to think my solution was a little clever. It bought me some time, at least.
>Put her to work.
>It's not taking inventory, after all. It's "sorting the pizza goodies into their right places."
>The way her face lit up, getting to help her Uncle Moe "run the pizza place." Makes me smile even now.
>It preoccupied her for a little while, at least. Let me finish up some other tasks, and figure out what to do with her next in the mean time.
>By the time my favorite little helper came out from the pantries to report she was all done, I was ready for my next masterstroke:
>I'd teach Amber how to make a pizza.
>The way she grinned. Priceless.
>She had practically been on the edge of her seat as I ran her through the steps, bit by bit. How to roll out and toss dough, how to spread the sauce just right, the best ways to distribute toppings.
>She's laser-focused, twitching with excitement. By the end of my little culinary lesson, she's fluttering in place.
>"Aahright Princess, I think ya ready."

>I roll out a sheet of cloth for her to make her pie on, and leave some basic ingredients scattered around for her before popping her up onto a stool, letting her actually access the table.
>"You get tah cookin' now, Princess. Uncle Moe's gonna go take care'a something in the back."
>"Okie-dokie, Uncle Moe!" She eagerly nods, before leaning over the table and beginning to smack out a wad of dough into what she thinks a pizza's supposed to look like.

>Leaving my god-niece behind to absolutely abuse some poor pie, I decide to check on her "handiwork" back in the pantries.
>An effort was made. She's got spirit, everything's up on the shelves.
>Everything's also in completely wrong, random spots.
>I just chuckle to myself. "She did her best," I mumble as I work to fix up what she's left me with.

cont

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Anonymous Sun 09 Jun 2024 07:48:24 No.66453640 Report

Quoted By: >>66453835

>>66453468
>I've just about finished correcting the job I pawned off onto her when Amber comes scampering through the pantry doorway.
>"I'm done, Uncle Moe! Come look!"
>"Oh yeah? C'mon, show me."
>She's way too short, as are my arms, for me to actually hold her hand in a comfortable position, but I still make the effort to bend down and hunch myself like a jackass so that my little niece can lead me by the finger to her creation.
>And God above, what a creation it was.
>To say it was a pizza would be an insult to my profession.
>It's a lumpy, ugly flatbread, covered in cheese and pepperoni.
>With a distinct absence of red on it.
>"Ambah, I think ya forgot the sauce, hun," I gently reassure her. Kids make mistakes after all.
>She quickly shakes her head, sticking her tongue out. "Tomatoes are yucky!"
>I furrow my brow at her. "You eat pizza with sauce on it all the time, Princess." I know. I'm the one making them.
>"Yeah, but that's pizza sauce, it's different." She gives sage-like nod, her fists at her sides as she stares up at me.
>I don't have it in me to disagree with her. God bless you, Amber.
>"...Good point, Princess. Here, let's get this in the oven."
>She gives a shout of joy, rushing over to the pizza oven--and then tottering a few steps away when I remind her not to get close to it.
>"Uncle Moe, Uncle Moe! Can I put it in?!"
>Absolutely not.
>"Sure, sweetie. C'mere, you can help."
>"Yay!" She's quick to rush over to me as I, grabbers in hand, acquire one of the pizza paddles.
>With time-tested grace, I slide the "pizza" perfectly into the oven. Amber helps me do so, in the sense that standing on your tippy-toes and sort of holding onto the pole of the paddle is considered helping.
>If anything, she was adding extra weight to it. Not that I'd ever tell her.
>"Daaawh, thank ya, Princess! I dunno if I coulda done that'un without ya!"
>She lets out a noise between a squeal and a giggle, overjoyed at having successfully created her first "pizza."

cont

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Anonymous Sun 09 Jun 2024 08:02:25 No.66453835 Report

Quoted By: >>66453991

>>66453640
>"C'mon sweetie, you can watch some TV at the front while we wait fah it to get finished, alright?"
>"Okay Uncle Moe! Will you come watch with me?"
>"Maybe later Princess, Uncle Moe's got some more things to do. Okay?"
>"Awwwh, alright," she murmurs with a defeated sagging of her wings.
>I lead her towards the front end of the house, flipping on a TV in one of the corners of the restaurant. Usually its broadcasting sports or the news for patrons. Today, it's playing reruns of AnomaloBob CarisPants for my little sunshine.
>Her disappointment at her Uncle being preoccupied quickly fades as she's drawn in by the animation, sipping idly on a glass of soda I poured for her as I left.
>Kids're too easy sometimes.

>Back in the kitchens, I lose myself to the task of mopping the floors for a little while.
>Until, suddenly, a phone on a hook in the very back of the staff-room begins to ring.
>A phone that only a certain group of people know about.
>I can feel a frown tugging at my face as I lumber over and pick it up off the hook.
>"Whattaya hear, whattaya say," I greet the caller.
>"Same old," a familiar voice crackles through. "How you feeling, Moe?"
>"Feelin' old."
>"Aaaaaaaye."
>"How about you, P?"
>"Been bettah. Listen, Moe, I'm afraid this ain't a social call. We need to use the equipment."
>My blood runs cold. Instinctively, I take some steps and lean back, glancing out to the front of the house.
>Still empty, save Amber sitting in her chair. Parking lot's clear too.
>"...P, this ain't a good time. I--"
>"It's done. We're there in five. Be ready for us."
>He hangs up before I can argue further.
>Of all the fucking days, these jamooks had to choose this one.

cont

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Anonymous Sun 09 Jun 2024 08:18:16 No.66453991 Report

Quoted By: >>66454110

>>66453835
>Whatever's about to go down, Amber absolutely cannot be present for it.
>Racking the phone and setting aside my mop, I make my way to the front of the house. Amber glances over her shoulder at me as I approach.
>Despite my nerves, I give her a reassuring smile.
>"Hey sweetie, Uncle Moe needs you to come do somethin' for him, alright?"
>She brightens up again, nodding eagerly as she hops off the chair.
>I lead her towards my personal office elsewhere in the building. She giggles as I help her into my office chair, the seat practically a throne for her.
>How do I sell this? My eyes wander around the room for a moment. A glance at the clock reminds me I don't have the luxury to think up a good fib.
>"--Amber, dear, Uncle Moe needs you to sit tight in here a little bit, okay? I gotta go, uuuuuh...Put the final touches on your pizza. Uncle secret."
>"Aww, but I wanna know!"
>"I'll tell you someday, promise. Just sit and wait for a little bit, alright?"
>She pouts, but quietly nods at me. I give her a grin as I exit the office, shutting the door as I go.
>Not a second later, the chime of a bell at the front tells me I've got visitors.

>I can hear the breathing of the fat fuck before I see him. He might be the boss of their outfit, but God, the way he huffs and puffs, talk about a lardass.
>T's bloated body was wrapped in a leather jacket that was a size too tight for him these days. His balding hair was combed over.
>As usual, T's ringed by a pair of accomplices. P, wings in his hair and a scowl on his face, and C, glasses over his eyes and a loose, floral shirt on.
>I can't stand 'em. Calling them Skinnies doesn't do it justice. They're trash.
>But I gotta play ball.
>"There is he!" I grin, swinging my arms out in a welcoming gesture towards T. "Lookin' svelte as ever."
>"Right back at'cha, ya big lunk," he chuckles at his own joke. "Startin'a see some gray hairs in that mustache though. They gonna put you outta pasture yet?"
"Let'em fuckin' try."

cont

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Anonymous Sun 09 Jun 2024 08:29:24 No.66454110 Report

Quoted By: >>66454172 >>66454199

>>66453991
>This earns a chuckle from the trio. P glances over his shoulder, up at the TV; the kid's show Amber had been watching was still playing.
>Shit.
>"The fuck? You watchin' this in your spare time, Moe?" P asks, glancing over at me.
>I give a dismissive wave, scowling. "Eech, some idiot threw a drink at it earlier in the week, thing's been stuck there since."
>"That right? We coulda straightened him out for ya, ya know."
>T interjects. "Let's not get distracted, our friends're waitin' for us. Moe, you mind takin' this in the back?"
>I nod. "Follow me, gentlemen." They're quick to comply.

>The very same table my niece had been making her first pizza at but a short time ago is now ringed by the lowlives I'm forced to do business with.
>Disposing of bodies for the families isn't something I enjoy, but it keeps my retirement from the game secure.
>I just wish it didn't have to be today.
>"We'll pay you for the down time until you can get ya stuff sanitized, of course."
>I nod towards T. He's done me the insult of lighting a cigar inside since arriving, but I know better than to confront him on it.
>"How many ya need to process?"
>"Three," answers P.
>"Christ," I spit, shaking my head. "That's gonna take all night!"
>"Ooooooh!" P scowls. "Watch the volume, my friend."
>"Take it easy." T raises a hand towards us all, frowning. "Now, look, Moe, I apologize for the inconvenience, but we don't gotta lotta options here. We--"

>"Uncle Moe?"

>The group freezes. All four of our heads swivel towards the source of the noise.
>Amber's standing in the doorway of the kitchens. She has a look of guilt on her face, one which is quickly morphing into fright as three big, burly strangers stare her down.
>The mobsters keep glancing between me and her, confusion apparent on their faces.
>"...I-I spilled my drink on your desk," Amber continues, her voice shaky.
>Walking forward quickly, I just shake my head. "That's fine, Princess. Go back and wait for me, okay?"

Cont

Anonymous Sun 09 Jun 2024 08:37:19 No.66454199 Report

Quoted By: >>66454225 >>66454314

>>66454110
>She nods, stealing another wary glance at the three humans behind me, before she turns and waddles off.
>I wait until she's gone to turn around and walk towards them. C's quick to approach me.
>"The fuck's that about, Moe? Why's there a kid here?"
>"That kid is my fuckin' niece, you little punk," I snarl down at him. "Keep your voice low."
>"Hold up a sec," T says slowly, his brow furrowed. "Your niece?"
>His eyes widen. "Is that fuckin' Rip's granddaughter?"
>I nod towards him, and he sighs. "Why the fuck didn't you mention she was here? Shit, Moe!"
>"I tried to. Someone wouldn't lemme finish," I replied, shooting a glance towards P. T is quick to snap his gaze towards him, glaring down at his wingman.
>"You said we had to get here quick, T, I'm sorry!"
>"Shut up! Go get the bags, you fuckin' jagoff."
>P huffs, glaring at me briefly as he trundles past me. T approaches me slowly, reaching into his suit pocket.
>"Look, Moe, I'm sorry, really." He fishes out a wad of hard cash, which I'm quick to accept. "Just, uuuh...Go take her out, y'know. Get some ice cream or somethin'. We'll have the place cleaned out before the end of the night, I swear."
>"Just get it done quick, alright?"
>T nods, patting me on the shoulder. As I begin to walk towards my office, he calls out, "Tell Rip I said hello, yeah?"

>Peeking open my office door, I see that Amber wasn't kidding. Poor girl spilled her soda all over my desk, I can already see a half-dozen documents soaked through with cola.
>She looks up at me from my chair with fear in her eyes.
>It vanishes with a gasp and a smile at my question: "How ya feel about ice cream, Princess?"

cont
probably wrapping up on the next one

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Anonymous Sun 09 Jun 2024 08:48:45 No.66454314 Report

Quoted By: >>66454354 >>66454384

>>66454199
>In terms of ice cream, Ellijah's can't be beat.
>It's just a couple minute's walk away from my joint.
>The ice cream itself is beyond delicious. The fact it's owned by another former wise guy is only heightens my opinion of it.
>I sit underneath the shade of an umbrella-table on the front porch of the parlor. The engine-hum of cars driving past nearby is only drowned out by my little sunshine.
>Amber's bowl of cookies 'n' cream is half-melted. She's been too busy asking questions to eat it.
>Questions that're making my stomach do flips.
>"Where those guys humans too, Uncle Moe?"
>"Yeah, sweetie."
>"Why did they have hair, but Daddy doesn't?"
>"That's cause ya Daddy's too cool to have hair, Amber."
>She giggles. "He is cool!"
>She finally shuts up and eats her ice cream for a moment. The silence motivates me to ask some questions of my own.
>"How much of that conversation did you hear, sweetie?"
>"A little," she murmurs, before adding a bit louder, "Uncle Moe, why did they say they had to grind up bo--"
>"It's a figure of speech!" I cut her off quickly, before adding with a (nervous) smile. "They're, uh, grindin' up sausage. They own a pork farm."
>"Ooooooooooh!" Amber nods. "I like sausage."
>"Me too, sunshine. Hey, listen. Do Uncle Moe a favor, don't mention anything you heard today to Mommy or Daddy, alright? It's our little secret."
>She tilts her head. "Keeping secrets is bad, though..."
>"I'll get you another bowl of ice cream."
>That's enough to convince her. "--Okay! Okay! I won't tell no one Uncle More, pinky promise!"
>"There's my girl! Finish up what'cha got before it melts now."
>As Amber eagerly chows down on the remains of her half-melted treat, I glance away with a sigh.
>Kids ain't so bad, really.
>I should ask to do this more often.
>Amber's looking up at me with big eyes. She wants to know something. With a smile, I look down at her.
>"What's on ya mind, Princess?"

>"Uncle Moe, what does fuck mean?"

End