A Bronx Tale

For those of you who have been with me from the beginning, you know that in my family there are no shortages of bizarre stories to be heard, and always, it seems, from my dad.  All along I've peppered you with Jillisms and things that can only happen to Jill.  I don't know why it never occurred to me that this was an inherited disorder!  Holy crap, she inherited it from Dad and I never put two and two together.  Maybe I'm not the smart sister after all.

A couple of days ago my parents came over for a visit and Dad got into one of his storytelling modes.  I told him I was whipping out my camera so I could get this online for posterity and that's exactly what I did.  I'm not quite sure Dad heard the getting this online part though, because when Jimmy mentioned to him later that he'd now be famous smeared across the internet, he kinda- sorta threatened to kill me.  But that can't be right.  I mean, he's my Dad.  He'll be happy that I revere him enough to share him with my hundreds six readers.  Right?

The story I have for you today is one of my favorites.  I've been hearing it on and off since childhood and my mother swears it's the truth, so it must be.  Also, each story that my father tells never deviates from the original, so they must all be true.  Right?

I guess he feels it's time to share these stories with his grandchildren.  Check out Mikayla as she stuffs her face with salad while listening with rapt interest.



I give to you, A Bronx Tale.