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    The Lost Then Found Essays of Joe Fusco Jr.
    The Lost Then Found Essays of Joe Fusco Jr.
    The Lost Then Found Essays of Joe Fusco Jr.
    Ebook60 pages51 minutes

    The Lost Then Found Essays of Joe Fusco Jr.

    By Joe Fusco Jr.

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    About this ebook

    A funny collection of short stories from the one and only Joe Fusco Jr. These stories will guarantee a good laugh. Joe Fusco Jr. has mastered the rare art of spinning amazing tales that can always capture the imaginations of audiences anytime.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherLakshmi Books
    Release dateMay 25, 2012
    ISBN9781476433462
    The Lost Then Found Essays of Joe Fusco Jr.

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      Book preview

      The Lost Then Found Essays of Joe Fusco Jr. - Joe Fusco Jr.

      The Lost then Found Essays of Joe Fusco Jr.

      Joe Fusco Jr.

      Smashwords Edition

      Copyright © 2012 by Joe Fusco Jr.

      All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

      To my wife Cyndi and my family, who left the porch light on while I was away.

      Bonding

      During the process of adopting Dustin and Joey, we drove by a construction site on the campus of UMass Memorial Hospital.

      What's that big thing, Dustin the four-year-old asked.

      That's a crane, I replied.

      What kind of crane, Joey the five-year-old inquired.

      The Crane of Death, I replied.

      Next morning, the boys' social worker called our home:

      Dustin and Joey really enjoyed their weekend with your family. They're especially fascinated by an apparent crane of death, she remarked.

      As well they should, I replied.

      We adopted the boys late that Summer. The special bonding that originated at the construction site has strengthened over our six years together:

      Every other Thursday, we ride the Elevator of Death to visit their counselors on the third floor at Children's Friend. This July, we'll scream down the Waterslide of Death in old Cape Cod. There's also the Ferris Wheel of Death at the Spencer Fair on Labor Day.

      Semantically speaking, it's the perfect marriage of wonder and fear. What better gift can a father share with his sons!

      Just yesterday, we had a wonderful family picnic on the grounds of Raytheon Integrated Defense in Andover.

      Look Dad, the Missile of Death, Dustin exclaimed.

      Let's not go overboard, little buddy, I replied.

      Con Jobs

      There's a wildly popular restaurant in Providence where you (the customer) do most of the work, and you (the customer) love it!

      Here's the scenario: I drive my family fifty minutes from Worcester on a rainy April evening because this is my son-in-law's birthday-dinner request.

      The waiter takes our drink-orders, tells me to read the mission statement on the menu since I'm a virgin (ha,ha), then gives us a tour of the food-stations. The rest of the evening is literally in one's own trembling hands.

      I don't mind making my own salad at the first station; I'm a veteran of countless Opening Days at my kids' colleges. But there's immediate chaos at our table as the non-leaf eaters are already moving on and sizing up their en trees.

      I opt for seafood as my second course. I fill a bowl (one bowl per trip, please) with frozen shrimp, scallops, tuna, swordfish, and calamari, pick an appropriate sauce ( I gamble with honey-garlic ) then wait in line at the Giant Grille where grown men in large white hats are singing and occasionally dancing while they sear my seafood.

      Warning:You have to stay near your meal and remain focused because the performing chefs ask you to I.D. your selection when it's time to sauce it:

      Is that yours,sir?

      It might be... No, maybe not... Is that talapia... No, mine's one over...maybe.

      Traying my sustenance, I walk back to an empty table except for my ambivalent daughter.

      Try the honey-garlic, I suggest.

      My third course is a bowl of meat featuring chicken strips, pulled pork, kielbasa, and a hamburger patty. For my sauce, I choose alfredo, unleashing the 70's rebel still rocking deep inside me. Again, the obligatory fifteen minutes at the Giant Grille then back to our table where everyone except my ambivalent daughter has finished their meal.

      Exhausted, I punch my time card, pay the bill, and long for an America where waiting on yourself wasn't held in such god-damn esteem!

      Ever get caught behind me at the Home Depot as the self-checkout rejects my debit-card out of pure vituperation? How about the Charter rep who tells me to reset the cable by unplugging then plugging in the modem-wire... I'd have a better chance finding the freakin' Holy Grail!

      The service in service industries is being boiled down and discarded and we (the consumer) are so mesmerized by the vaudevillian grille-cooks that we can't see the corporate sleight-of-hand.

      I'm heading over to Mom's house where an oldest son's appreciation of good food and conversation is duly rewarded. Besides, I

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