Chapter Eighteen

Jew Barbecue

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“What is it Abe?”

“Walking by a newsstand and seeing Alfred E. Newman’s still alive and kicking at freakn’ limp dick trimp.”

“Yeah, but him, your father in law?”

“I see him more, but only cuz I’m down here more with that house.”

“But he came to see...” Stan nodded his head toward the child with her face in a game machine.

“How would he know we brought her here? The king of the moneyjews. He knows more Russian and Wop mobsters than the trimpster, and gets a shitload more respect from those scumbags by a long shot.”

"Do you think he thinks it’s his fault?"



Image Gredits

“What is it Abe?”

“Walking by a newsstand and seeing Alfred E. Newman’s still alive and kicking at freakn’ limp dick trimp.”

“Yeah, but him, your father in law?”

“I see him more, but only cuz I’m down here more with that house.”

“But he came to see...” Stan nodded his head toward the child with her face in a game machine.

“How would he know we brought her here? The king of the moneyjews. He knows more Russian and Wop mobsters than the trimpster, and gets a shitload more respect from those scumbags by a long shot.”

"Do you think he thinks it’s his fault?"