A Wiseguy Christmas - A Craven Danger Mystery

"Shine, mister?"

“Aren't you a little young to be pulling down a day job?" said Craven. "Shouldn't you be in school, dunking some little sweetie's pigtails in an inkwell?"

“Schools are for suckers. I need some coin in my pocket.”

"Listen, you little dime store gangster. I went to school and—“

"And you got sucker written all over your mush."

"Oh, I see, you're a wiseguy. Let me tell you something short-pants. Prisons are full of wiseguys. And if you keep it up you’ll be spending this Christmas in reform school.”

“Only if I don’t have to sing in that lousy choir again. The only tunes I like singing got nothing to do with Santa and his imbecile reindeer. I like songs about babes and booze.”

“Does your mother know you’re out here making a mockery out of your childhood? Listen, runt. Stay in school. Go to church. And always mind your parents.”

“I can’t mind my parents, because at the moment them two are being minded by the New York City penal system.”

“Then who the heck is looking out for you?”

“You're looking at him, pickle puss.”

“You mean you’re out here on your own at your age?”

“Wow. You’re as sharp as Sam Spade himself. Bogey got nothing on you, mister. Next thing you’ll be telling me is I must be hungry, and do I need a nice warm bed to sleep on, instead of snoozing in an alley on a cardboard bed.”

“Hey, If I didn’t know any better I’d swear you were playing me for a handout.”

“Well, mister, it’s a good thing you don’t know any better, because I’m perfectly happy getting my education from pissy alleycats and ravenous rats.”

“The heck you do. I may regret this, but it’s Christmas time and I was raised to do the right thing. Even if the right thing hasn’t always been done to me. Maybe Betty can help straighten you out, like she tries to do with me. She’s a sucker for trouble, and them that’s in it. Come on. Let’s go for a walk. It’s not far from here. Betty’s not a bad cook, and she has a sofa you can sleep on for a couple of nights. I’d take you home with me, but I can’t because I live in my office on a rickety sofa that don’t always hold up to its end of the bargain. What you need is a good woman’s touch.”

“Is she put together pretty good?”

“You talk like that to Betty and somebody’ll be putting you back together again. Now let’s go, Tiny Tim, while I still have a good sense a humanity.”

“God bless us, everyone! Even the suckers.”

“Tiny Tim never said any such thing.”

“If you say so, Dick Tracy. And by the way, my feet are starting to hurt. You think maybe I can hop on your shoulders?”

“And throw my back out again? Not on your life.”

“A person’s humanity only goes so far, I’m guessin’.”

“Good guess, kid. Now follow me.”