The Evil Pork Chop

“Hobie Garafalo at his very best! A true page turner”

Jennifer Lopez

“Page Turner at her best! A true gobie horafablow.”

Coco Lopez

“Best island novel since Hemmingway. Truly transforms a boring, rainy Saturday into a boring rainy Saturday that someone sort of wrote about…. I think.”

Studs Terkel

“I think the author really captured the true essence of the moment with Tommy Lee.”

Pamela Anderson

“Nice tits, Pammy.”

Tommy Lee

”Thanks, Stud Muffin”

Pamela Anderson

 

 

Foreword – Block Island is many things to many people. For participants in Block Island Race Week, it is site of some of the best competitive sailing on the East Coast and some of the most prodigious alcohol consumption in the free world. What follows is a story of the latter. It is a telling tale of a rainy Saturday after the official “week” is over, but there’s still another rainy day at the spacious rental house where our characters have to choose between Monopoly and an orgy. As kids were present, board games seemed the most prudent course, though not the most desirable for most.

The sound of dice rolling, rain on the roof and ice falling into plastic cups set the quaint background for this warm tale of friends and family making the best of a long soggy day. All of the characters are real, except the fictitious lawn/surgeon brothers. The consumption of spirits is reflected and validated by the rather rapid decrease in literary quality as the novel progresses.

Though the editor wanted to change some of the wording and add more substance and a plot, especially in the last few chapters, the author refused. The simplicity and beauty of the day unfolding are a true reflection of the casual and relaxed atmosphere that is Block Island on a rainy day.

Please turn on the shower in the other room, make yourself a nice cocktail, break open a board game, and enjoy a rainy and inviting day on Block Island.

 

 

Chapter 1

Two cans of spam, a bottle of Cook’s, two cartons of OJ, half a dozen packs of smokes. She rang it up and looked at me with her big blue eyes.

“Love your accent – where you from?”

“Ukraine”, she said.

Heavy accent, but what really weighed on me was her smile.

It was at that moment that I let my guard down. I’d seen the non-discript FBI surveillance van at the end of the driveway. Tiff had warned me, but I didn’t listen. Tiff……that’s another story. A good one, but not right now.

 

 

Chapter 2

Spam and banana sandwiches – hold the mayo.

The screen went blank just as I was watching Pamela devouring Tommy Lee’s sausage. It might have been the lightning, or it might have been the changing of the hamsters down at the local power company. New Shoreham was going to upgrade the wheel, but then the hamsters unionized and, what with collective bargaining, the rodents got their way. Same old wheel, four extra pellets of high fiber hamster chow a day, every other Thursday afternoon off, and Tom and Jerry Saturday mornings instead of reruns of F Troop. Fucking rats.

 

 

Chapter 3

She had breasts the size of Texas with nice, pert little Delaware nipples that swelled to the size of Rhode Island at my touch.

 

 

Chapter 4

Tommy C. He said he was trying to quit. He drank a pallet of brew down at the Kitten and there he was. Noon o’clock when he cracked the first beer. Nobody really noticed but me. The rest of them were watching the kids light their socks on fire. That’s Block on a rainy day. Drink, sex, do a puzzle, then put a fucking bullet in your head. Tom has the right idea. Beer it up early and you can’t feel your brains as they exit the back of your head and splatter against the picture window. Hope the cleaning lady brings a brain squeegee. I’m gonna miss Tom.

 

 

Chapter 5

The rounding

Jib sheet broke. Skipper screams for a new one. Jib’s flapping in the breeze. Sometimes in life the simple solutions are ignored so people can have their few minutes of panic. Primal screams with no directions and then someone said, in a high pitched voice that might have been a 14 year old transsexual after dropping the soap in a prison

group shower– “Tack the fucking thing”. Skipper had a look on his face like a retarded monkey when the scientist puts the last box on top of the stack so he can reach the banana.

He looks at the upwind mark. “Am I gonna make it?”

“You couldn’t make a fucking sandwich.”

Paul….. nice boat though.

 

 

Chapter 6

Hang it on the fish

“Hey Kevin, can you go to the store and pick up some bubble bath, then swing by the boat and grab my life jacket?”

Sounded like a good idea at the time, but as soon as Tommy said “No rum on the boat”, a small sparrow that was flying by took a hard left and attacked Matt with a vengeance. I have to give him credit. He was at a disadvantage. One hand on the propane tank and the other clutching a bag of kielbasa. Sparrow pecking at his eyes and he’s swinging the bag of polish hot dog and screaming like a virgin being gang raped with bowling pins. At least he got the grill started.

Stinky spam farts. Pretty toxic.

Hey – can you bring the basement upstairs so TJ can get high?

 

 

Chapter 7

Dan’s grilling in the rain. Kielbasa’s done.

“Hand me the Kielbasa, you stay outside – you’re wet.”

Sibling rivalry. It’s real and it’s horrible. The exception that proves the rule is the oiled up wrestling lesbian twins in an inflatable kiddy pool full of Jello where the winner is the one who has the longest run of snatch munch. Tits are great and, hey, there’s always room for Jello.

 

 

Chapter 8

Robby on Chess - - -First we get rid of all the stupid guys (pawns) then we kick some ass..

Guy that mows the lawn ran over a blue cup and shredded it. He’s no rocket scientist, but you’d think his brother might have given him a bit of advice while he was performing surgery on his frontal lobe. These.