“An investigation,” the driver sneers. “We get Royal investigations all the time … and we ain’t changed nothin’ yet. If they give us too much grief, we just threaten to shut down haulin’ all over the kingdom.”
“We wasn’t talkin’ about no Royal Investigation,” Nunzio sez. “We was thinkin’ of another judgmental body.”
“Oh yeah? Like who?”
Nunzio winks at me, and I take a deep breath and give it my best shot.
“Don … de don don. Don … de don don Bruuuuuce!”
Though my singin’ voice is not what you would call a real show stopper, the guy gets the message. His smile droops, and he swallows hard … but he’s a fighter and tries to rally back.
“Yeah, okay, so you get our ‘special’ rates. Just don’t expect any express delivery.”
Now it’s Nunzio’s turn to show off his grin.
“Friend,” he sez, “if we wanted efficiency, we wouldn’t have sent for the teamsters.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” the guy bellows, gettin’ back some of the color he lost when we mentioned Don Bruce.
“Just that your normal delivery schedules will suit us fine,” I sez, innocent-like. “Know what I mean?”
“Yeah … well … I guess that’s settled,” the guy sez, lookin’ back and forth between Nunzio and the men. “We’ll go ahead and get started.”
As he is goin’, I find I cannot resist takin’ one last dig at him.
“Say, Nunzio,” I sez in a loud voice. “What do you call a teamster in a three piece suit?”
“The defendant!” Nunzio shoots back just as loud.
This humor goes right past the others in the crew, but the driver gets it. He breaks stride, and for a second I think he’s gonna come back to “discuss” it with us at length. Instead, he just keeps on goin’ and contents himself with slammin’ the door for his witty response.