Vinnie Pizzeria Comes To Town

Vinnie Pizzeria

My name is Vinnie Pizzeria. No this ain’t a joke. That’s really my name.

                I got a pizza joint in the Belmont section of The Bronx. It’s where Dion and The Belmonts came from. Now I know you youngsters don’t know Dion and The Belmonts from prosciutto, but I do. At my joint we still serve pizza by the slice on wax paper. When you eat it, the orange oil created from the sauce and cheese runs off the wax paper.

                And if you don’t have your pizza-eating technique down, the liquid grease runs down your forearm. All of which is a drag if you’re wearing your best Bee Gees-inspired disco shirt for a night of clubbing.

                We been serving our pizza by the slice on wax paper since 1955. That’s the way we do it here on Belmont Avenue. We honor tradition. But that’s not the reason I’m writing youse guys. I’m writing ya, because my wife’s daughter Francesca got married last summer.  She and her husband Steve are expecting a baby.

I’m hoping for a granddaughter. On the ultrasound the kid looks like a greasy slice of pepperoni. But what do I know. The only thing I know about babies is what I gotta do to make one.

                I wanta thank Mr. Al for letting me use his blog to formally welcome Big Steve into the family. We haven’t told Big Steve yet, but we’ll be having a formal ceremony inducting Steve into La Familia pretty soon. Nothing to be scared about Steve even if it’s similar to the Mafia code of omerta.

                We’ll be slicing the palm of Steve’s hand with a pizza cutter. Then we light a playing card like a king of clubs. Steve then gets to extinguish the flame with the blood from his sliced palm. That’s real mafioso stuff right there.

                I learned that one from Albert Anastasia himself before the fellas plugged him full of holes in the barbershop of the Park Central Hotel in Good Pie, New York on October 25, 1957.

                Cue in the theme music from “The Godfather” right here. That’s that movie with Marlon Brando and Al Pacino.

Man, the marinara really flowed the day they gunned down poor Albert. His face was still swathed in a hot white towel from his shave when they plugged him. The newspapers all went with that photo. I was a longshoreman on the Brooklyn waterfront when it all happened. Albert got me the job.

Albert used to say the only good pizza is a dead pizza. I don't know why he said that. Maybe if he hadn't, he wouldn't have ended up like he did.

Albert had he lived would never have touched a frozen pizza. Maybe used 'em for target practice.

That barber’s chair that Albert caught the lead in Steve, you’re not going to believe where it ended up. They got it at the Las Vegas Mob Museum along with the brick wall from the St. Valentine’s Day massacre. I was thinking of getting the chair for my sweetheart for Valentine’s. They just don’t make cushiony barber chairs like that anymore. Otherwise, I’d get one for the den.

                No pressure Steve. Love having you as a son-in-law. Just don’t screw up. Best wishes always. And always take care of your health.

                Have I ever shown you the vintage antique I got of the chair up at Sing Sing. They don’t use the electric chair anymore. It was known as “Old Sparky.” 614 people were executed in that chair. The last execution at Sing Sing was in August 1963. That was the same year President Kennedy was assassinated.

                My mother would have sent me to Sing Sing, if she coulda. I went into the pizza business instead.

                 The death penalty was abolished in New York in 1965. The Beatles conquered America and society went to hell. My wife says I talk too much about death Steve. What do you think?

                Anyway, Steve maybe you could be the boss of our familia one day. Figure out a good nickname for yourself. One you don’t mind that adds to your legend. Maybe Steve The Butcher, seeing as how you usta be an actual butcher with an actual meat cleaver. When you marry into an Eye-talian family Steve, a nickname goes with the territory, or my name ain’t Vinnie Pizzeria.