From Left: Samira (the Mom), Youssuf, Abrar, Alena, Jarif, and Miftahul (the Dad).  Miftahul is crazy for paisley but don’t let that fool you into thinking he doesn’t run a tight ship.  Actually, the whole family has a great sense of style.  The only problem they have is that Jarif, the youngest (in the slamming plaid pants) hates pizza.  Or maybe he just hates his own family’s version of pizza.

It’s more of stand than a pizzeria.  The only door is in the back.  They serve out of their front window.

Their Price List is excellent.  Please expand and check it out.  Besides being down with the Pizza Plan, my favorite is the pound of Cokies.

Kurt is mad cool.  Not only does he kick it with the backwards denim banana-strap cap, he drives a forklift.

Kurt says that he was interested in a Toyota Prius but when he laid his eyes on this Yale Forklift he knew that he’d found his car.  “It’s very convenient for arranging my cinderblock collection, and flipping over porto-potties.”  It’s not so convenient on the Grand Central Parkway when everyone curses him to hell cause the ‘lift can’t break 45 MPH.

Get confused for only $6.49 at the 99¢ Store!

Brendan is an out-of-work architect doing part-time model railroad building at Willis Hobbies in Mineola. Usually when I visit him he’s got on one of those eye-magnifying visors that make people look like maniacs. He’s a genius with Krazy Glue and has repaired a lot of my toys, although he’s always suspicious of how my toy ended up that way.

Shari works at the New York Aquarium in Coney Island.  If I come on a weekday, she can sneak me in the back.

One day a Trisonic truck was making it’s monthly delivery to all the 99¢ shops in the 6th Borough. Suddenly, a big glob of pigeon shit hit the window, temporarily blinding the driver and causing the truck to swerve out of control. Out fell a case of “Super Glue”. This caused a small riot as a gang of people (mostly Senior Center members) fought over the unbroken tubes. That was a year ago today. Now look at what’s left behind. Maybe in another 10 years it’ll start wearing down.
 

 

Mr. Parfenix, my landlord, supervillain, bacon-lover, penny-pincher, Pigeon-Man, belongs to this super old-guy social club dedicated to old school gambling and turning the very air we breathe into cigarette smoke.

The pigeon club doesn’t have that many rules or regulations.  To join you must prove that you are

1. OLD

2. GRUMPY

3. AN ALCOHOLIC

4. DRUNK

and 5. A PIGEON

They love to “play cards” but these are pigeon-guys.  It’s either go fish or Uno over there.

Mr. Parfenix performs old Ella Fitzgerald jams over there on Monday nights (when there is literally no one in the place.  Most of the time he’s not even there.)

Claudia is a dream. Not only is she the leader of the 6th Borough Striped Shirt Society, she also organizes all of our parades.  If you haven’t caught one you really have to see it to believe it.  Approximately 13 lonely souls marching together in perfect disharmony, led only by the sound of my boombox blasting oldies a la 101.1 CBS FM. The only thing you need to join the Striped Shirt Society is a striped shirt, a box, and a Metrocard.  We meet all over the city and go on parade for as long as it takes one of us to spot an interesting place to have lunch.  If we don’t find a place before we get winded, we sit on our box.