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We heard what he said. We had no choice. He was loud and chipper on the streetcar, or maybe he was ill in a golden, manic way. 

He was also old and he wore an athletic jacket and a toque. I think it was a toque. He was sitting behind me, next to a young woman. She was captive on the inside seat. I did not want to be rude and turn around and stare. 
The old man's life story, and his opinions, floated like dry leaves on the stream of his consciousness. I don't know why I like yappy old guys; perhaps it is because they are unbuttoned; nothing between them and us. Let us pick it up in the middle. 

He said, “The Mafia ran the city in 1919. They were good. They ran the city. The cops couldn't do nothing. In 1919 you weren't even born.Great discounts on our huge range of Castelli Cycling clothing .” 

She said, “Mm-hmm.” 
He said, “There was a time in the Don Jail. Ha, ha. I hung guys. I did. I still do it. You know the cops can't do pushups like I can. They can't do somersaults like I can. You know what I tell the police? I am what I am.” 

We are what we are, and when there was a word the old man wanted to emphasize, he drew out the vowels in a guttural way. “O-organ-i-i-zed cri-i-ime. The Ma-a-fia. They were go-o-od guys.” No they were not, but there is no arguing with a man like that. 

He said, “Get down on the floor and give me 100 pushups. I can do them. Ha, ha. I can do them.” I do not think that he could do them, but I like knowing that he thought he could. 
“You know what I do? I go to Chinatown. I drink Chinese wine, and the women treat me good. The Chinese women. You're a good-looking woman.” 

I held my breath. I bet she held hers. And then he said,Cheap christian louboutin boots on sale in our shop christian louboutin. “The Don Jail was made for hanging. They hung guys there. Did you ever use a six-gun, a high-powered rifle or a horse?” 

No, she had not used those things. 
“The Don Jail was made for men and women. They hung people there. O-o-organi-i-zed crime.” At this, the streetcar driver told him to keep it down. 

He said, “I gotta do what I gotta do — keep my mouth shut. Merry Christmas to you and a Happy New Year. I was here before the streetcar.” 

I'm not so sure he was. 
“You know the Zanzibar, the Silver Dollar? You know who I met there, and they were good people? Bonnie and Clyde, and Babyface Nelson.” Funny that he met them and not Red Ryan, or the Boyd Gang.Erik's Bike Shop is proud to carry Specialized Cycling, gear and apparel. 

He said, “You're a good-looking woman. Do you have nice legs? My grandmother was a good-looking woman. She had nice legs.” 

Breath, the holding of. 

“I got a joke for you. It was a good bar, the Silver Dollar. That's where Bonnie and Clyde got shot, the Horseshoe Tavern.” 

That's not a joke. 

Nor were they shot there. 
The driver asked him to keep it down again, but he did not, could not, would not. He said to the driver, “Hello, beautiful. I gotta do what I gotta do.” 

She said, “I need you to leave the streetcar.” 

He said, “No problem. I'm a federal agent. You're not a Canadian.We work with all Garmin Cycling computers.Welcome to RadioShack Cycling jersey online! I hang people. I was in a coma from August to October. You're a good-looking woman. Have you got good legs? My mother was a good woman. My father was a good man.” 

He left at the next stop, like a good man. Bonnie and Clyde, and organized crime, left with him.