"RETURN TO FLATBUSH"
Chapter 3
Reminder – This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to names, places, or Brooklyn landmarks is purely coincidental.
It was two day later when Bernie stopped by the house, to see his lifelong Flatbush friend. He tried to convince Asa to have lunch with him, but Asa declined.
"You are getting old pretty fast; not even going to lunch, do you feel like doing." Said Bernie
"I had a late breakfast," replied Asa
"A dish of fruit, do you call that breakfast?"
"I call it breakfast. Yes you putz – fruit is breakfast." Barked Asa getting grumpy
"Why don't you fix me up with Adam? I will buy him something nice," Bernie asked being sincere.
Asa was becoming tired of Bernie constantly asking about getting together with Adam.
"Don't ask me -go ask him," Asa said.
"He's a peach once you get the underwear off his butt," replied Bernie "I had him once, and gorgeous."
"So go chase. - From me, what do you want?" repeated Asa becoming slightly annoyed with his old friend.
"We are old bastards Asa and it's not easy anymore," complained Bernie, "One has to get as much as you can, while you can; trust me, you will miss it."
"Do you think so?" inquired Asa
"Trust me, said Bernie "When you don't get it, you will miss it - I know..."
"How do you know? Asked Asa
"I'm very bright"
"Oy vey, meshuggeneh is what you are." Said Asa rather smug and folding his arms
"What are you talking about?" said Bernie. "Are you telling me that you don't have to chase after cock?"
"I don't chase." Replied Asa
"I know how you operate when it comes to cock. For yourself, you are keeping everything." Shouted Bernie
"What's everything?" Inquired Asa
Bernie was about to answer with some clever comeback, when there came a knock on the door.
"Oy you got a customer. That is why you do not chase. Welcome to Sadie's whorehouse. To you, they come with a knock on the door," said Bernie.
"Stop with that talk." demanded Asa. "You are a crazy man."
"It was Andrew. He was on his way to meet Adam for lunch and wanted to know if Asa wanted anything from the bakery. He would bring it, when he came back home"
Bernie heard the word Adam and wheels began to turn in his head.
"I am Bernie, and besides being gorgeous, you must be Andrew?" He asked
"I know who you are. I have seen you before with Asa. You and Asa are old time friends. That is what Adam told me," said Andrew.
"And what else did Adam tell you?" asked Bernie becoming very Jewish in his speech.
"We don't talk about it. That was a long time ago, is what Adam said," replied Andrew
"Are we talking about the same thing?" asked Bernie
"I believe we are," replied Andrew. "You hooked up with Adam and fucked him. Now, you are wondering, how I know about it. Am I right?" asked Andrew
"That's right," confessed Bernie
"And you are wondering if I know about the 50 dollar bill you slipped into Adams's shirt pocket?" followed up Andrew
"Keep going kid, you're on a roll." Said Bernie
"Okay you two," interjected Asa, who was quietly listening to his best friend Bernie, playing the old pick up line that would eventually get around to money. "We don't have to go down that road," said Asa.
"What road?" stammered Bernie, "talking, I am – just talking." He added enthusiastically.
"I should get moving, Adam will wonder what's keeping me. However, since I am never on time anyway, it is no big deal. So, grandpa, do you need anything from the bakery for tonight?" asked Andrew
"Nope, I'm good," said Asa.
"Andrew shook hands with Bernie and left.
"GRANDPA, - So what is with this grandpa stuff? Inquired Bernie with renewed interest
"I adopted him." Replied Asa
"Him?" said Bernie
"Yes, him and Adam too, they are both my grandsons." Said Asa
"Oy, so full of it you are. Nobody did you adopt. Like a rug you are lying. Okay Mr. Smarty pants, show me some papers" said Bernie
"Don't be a putz, I am a pretend grandfather and I love these boys like my own children." Confessed Asa
"I know what you love." Stammered Bernie
"That too," agreed Asa.
"No wonder you wouldn't set me up with either of them. You greedy old bastard, you are keeping them for yourself," said Bernie
"I think that is right"
"You think?" said Bernie
"Yes, that is what I think. The subject is closed." Said Asa
"Okay, it is closed." Agreed Bernie
Shortly after the discussion concerning nonsense, Bernie left and walked over Flatbush Ave.
From his window, Asa noticed he was walking in the direction of the Bakery. Andrew was nowhere in sight, but Asa was keenly aware of where Bernie was headed.
The Morse Bakery set in the middle of a block on Flatbush Avenue with small shops on both sides. There was a luncheonette, a newspaper stand, pool hall. Irving the barber, and a cigar shop. A small neighborhood market was on the corner. Oddly called "The Corner Market."
There were noticeable changes to the bakery after Adam had taken over the business and property from Caroline Morse. The window trimmed with classy white lace paper and satin blue ribbon. Sometimes the ribbon would be pink, ivory, mint, red or green.
Everything sat on pedestals supported by sparking clear glass shelves. Awnings complemented the building, shading the homemade pies and cakes on display every day in the window.
Adam was constantly changing the décor and it continually looked refreshing, professional and yummy with different bake goods on display.
Inside, wonders from the kitchen, such as cookies, tarts, bagels, breads, muffins and more, were under glass enclosed shelved. It was an old fashion bakery, where a baker waited on the customer allowing them to make their selection.
Purchase items placed into white boxes and double tied with white string. Loose cookies and bagels were in white bags, with wax tissue paper and printed with the name of the bakery on the bag. The bakery had been there since the 1960ties, according to Asa, and very little had changed. Everything was delightful.
The bakery had an extensive assortment of Jewish breads and pastries for their Hebrew cliental. One might say it was a step back in time to yesterday. Whatever label people gave it, there was no escaping its popularity and delicious existence.
Adam loved the place. He absolutely loved it and he had become a first class baker, creating `melt in your mouth' goodies equivalent to the pastry chefs in Paris.
After looking in the window and studying the assortment of baked pies, Bernie went inside and stopped at the glass case filled with muffins and bagels.
Mr. Weinstock, who everybody called Winnie, was working at the bakery. He started there years ago and stayed for several years more, working for Caroline after Sam passed away.
Winne was very much part of the Morse Bakery working with Adam. He was a wonderful old Jewish gent and top-notch baker, with vast experience making bread and pastries.
"Bernie – Bernie Rosen. Is that you; that I am seeing?" said Weinstock leaning over the glass case to get a closer look.
"Yes, it is me. Who did you think, maybe Chaplin?" said Bernie
"Such a `tookhis' you are, always with the jokes. How have you been?" he asked
"Good – I am good and still upright." He replied
"That's good," said Weinstock
"Yes, I know," agreed Bernie
"Me, I am not so good." Said Weinstock shaking his head.
"What's the matter?"
"I poop green." He replied
"Do you take Geritol? Asked Bernie
"Every day, I take it for energy, a kid I am not any longer"
"That is your problem. Throw the damn bottle away and take a multi vitamin, believe me, that is what making you poop green. I know – to me the same thing happened"
"The doctor didn't tell me that," said Weinstock
"Doctors – what do they know? It's a pill for this and a pill for that, oy," mumbled Bernie
"Okay, this I will try. What can I get for you? The bread is still warm from the oven."
"Give me a loaf of rye and 4 bagels," said Bernie
"They are cheaper if you buy 6." Said Weinstock
"Cheaper, I don't want – 4 is what I want." Said Bernie
"Okay – okay, you are the customer. I just put them in a bag. I will give you four bagels and a rye bread.
"Very good, thank you"
"Don't mention it, enjoy" said Weinstock.
Bernie retraced his steps and went back towards Clancy Park across from where Asa and the boys lived in the large brick building on the corner of Flatbush and Stonington Avenue.
He stopped to rest when he got to the park and flopped down on the bench directly in view of Asa's bay window.
He was hoping to run into Andrew and that was his sole purpose for going to the bakery. However, it did not happen.
Since talking to Andrew and giving him the once over, all he could think about was getting his face in his crotch. He was remarkably consistent going after what tempted him. It was much harder, now that he was old and everything was a challenge. However, Bernie was not one to go home and rock in a chair on the front porch.
The one time flaming slut of Flatbush Avenue, was now living in a generation of young cocksuckers, who had no training in the way Bernie would hunt for poor white trash, rednecks, black men, and Puerto Ricans who spoke poor English but understood about being paid for dropping their underwear.
Bernie looked up at Asa's bay window, but there was no sign of him anywhere. He squeezed his dick covering his hand with the bag containing the bagels. He felt like a dirty old man playing with himself. That pretty much said it all.
"There is no guarantee in life, only changes. I'll never know, if I never try." Bernie thought, while holding his dick.
He took his phone out of his pocket and tapped in the number to the Morse Bakery. He decide to come right to the point and ask Adam and Andrew for a threesome. Bernie wanted a party in Adam's pants. He had nothing to lose and maybe something to gain.
Bernie never objected to being a dirty young slut. In fact, he would laugh it off and brag about his conquest. However, being a dirty old man slut, did not set right with him. Still this as no time to get religion.
He thought about his best friend Asa. He thought about Adam and his boyfriend Andrew. Then he thought about himself
The number rang once and Bernie hung up.
"At my age this is wishful thinking; I'll pretend that I am having a good time. It is unfortunate, but I do, what I can do, which is nothing.," he mumbled to himself.
Bernie returned the phone to his pocket.
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