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Fred’s birthday The
private room at Mario
and set
with pitchers of Coke, carafes of
red and white wine, greets Fred,
for his 90th birthday. His
children and their children; great-grandchildren
tumble in. Dinner of
linguine, egg plant rolatini, scungilli. Kids
bop one another with
balloons while adults drink black
coffee and Sambucca. Opening
presents he pulls paper from
a box with a pretty blond on
the cover holding a contour pillow. “I
thought,” calls out his grandson, “they were
sending you a woman.” “Sure,” jokes
a cousin, “I called an 800 number and
they sent her—quite a babe.” Fred laughs, “But
can she make soup?” |