That Delicious Cheesesteak

By Chanuga Rollins

 

It was nearly three in the morning when a friend and I got hungry from a long night of bar hopping. This late at night there’s only one place to go when you’re hungry and that’s the “Alley.”  

The “Alley” was a sandwich shop owned by two women in their 70s named Dottie and Lucy. The sandwich shop was adjacent to an alley, hence the name. The place was once a two-car garage, converted into a commercial business sometime in the 1960s. Since then, the sandwich shop has been renowned for making the best hoagies, burgers, steaks, and sausage sandwiches in the whole tri-state area.

Folks cross state lines for the Alley’s food, police from the outlining townships come here to eat, as do politicians, sports figures, the rich and poor, and of course mob guys, they all come to the Alley. So, of course, there was a line to get into the place, sometimes over a block long, but no worries the wait was worth it. 

The Alley had no tables or chairs it was take-out only and you had to pay in cash. The food was so good that most people just ate out on the street (even in the winter months) or in their cars if they were lucky enough to park nearby.

My friend Chuck and I double parked down the street, not an uncommon thing to do in this neighborhood, and joined the line to get into the sandwich shop. Twenty minutes later Chuck and I were headed for his place a couple of blocks away to eat our sandwiches.

When we got to Chuck’s apartment his roommate had a few friends over, but they were occupying the living room, so Chuck and I went into the kitchen to eat our food. However, the people from the living room kept trying to include us in their conversation. I wasn’t trying to be rude, but I just wanted to focus on my lovely cheesesteak with peppers and onions. Chuck got a huge hamburger and we split a big order of steak fries.

I really didn’t know Chuck’s roommate nor any of his friends except one, a guy by the name of Curt. I really didn’t know him as much as his reputation, he was a burglar… And worst yet he sucked at it, he gets the shit beat out of him constantly by homeowners who catch him in the act of robbing their homes, he’s even been put in the hospital a few times not to mention jail.

I mentioned Curt to Chuck, and he just laughed and then told me a story about Curt that happened a few months before. This idiot Curt robbed the home of an elderly mob guy, a few days later a couple of guys snatched Curt off the street and beat him senselessly. Then they hung him by his feet from a telephone pole with a note stapled to his chest warning him that the next time he dies!

Chuck also told me that the only reason he allowed Curt into his home was because of his roommate, they were best friends and he felt sorry for him. Finally, everyone from the living room left us alone so Chuck and I could devour our sandwiches. 

I unwrapped my sandwich ever so gently and took a bite of my still-hot cheesesteak. Cheese, onions, and peppers were oozing down my fingers, and for a second, there was peace on earth... That’s when we heard the gunshot, Chuck and I knocked the table over and hid behind it, knocking our food down but still in its wrapper on the floor.    

The gunshot came from the living room, and the smell of gunpowder still lingered in the air. At first, an eerie quiet swept over the apartment, and then there was moaning. Apparently, the guys in the living room were listening to music and smoking pot, when that jerk off Curt pulled out a 25-caliber pistol and began to play with it. 

Nobody knew for sure who or what made the gun go off. But two things were for sure, the first was that the bullet went right through Curt’s hand. The second was the bullet crashed into Chuck’s favorite autographed poster of Kiss signed by Gene Simmons himself.  

Getting up off the kitchen floor Chuck and I ran into the living room. What the fuck was that Chuck screamed! Curt was rolled up in a ball on the floor crying, my hand, my hand, blood was everywhere. Chuck really lost his shit when he saw his poster, you mother fuckers, you killed my “Kiss” poster! 

That’s when everyone started to talk at once trying to explain what happened. Everyone get the fuck out of my home Chuck said, but I’m bleeding, Curt kept saying. 

I don’t give a fuck, I didn’t inherit you, Chuck said, get out! Curt was almost to the door when Chuck showing a little mercy said wait a minute and went into his bedroom. While Chuck was in the bedroom Curt used the kitchen sink to try and stop the bleeding. Chuck came out with an old t-shirt and wrapped up Curt’s hand. Chuck and I still smelled our sandwiches and couldn’t wait to continue to eat them.

Listen to me you idiot, there’s a hospital two blocks away go there and tell them that an unknown person shot you, just make up some shit, and don’t even mention that you were here. One by one the roommates’ friends all left the apartment. Being you let that asshole in here I think it’s only right that you do the cleanup Chuck told his roommate.   

Chuck and I went back into the kitchen to eat our food, but after picking up the table, both of our sandwiches were gone. 

Chuck had a confused look on his face, what the hell happened to our food Chuck said out loud. Then it occurred to me, that with all the commotion going on, someone must have taken them.

I asked Chuck's roommate if anyone went into the kitchen, and he yeah, you also saw him go in there, Curt was in the kitchen, and he used the water. 

But he was only in there a few moments I said. Do you think Chuck asked? We looked at each other, yeah, he must have, I said, that no good thieving little bastard stole our food!

The end

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