"Mike! What the fuck?" You look like shit! Was that you yackin' up in the toilet?"
"Hello Azir." Michael replied to his friend, Azir Naphtali, whom he had not seen in a while.
"You sick or something?" he asked with a look of concern gently rubbing his tall friend on the back as he bent over the sink. "Damn I've never seen you so terrible looking before.., for once I look better than you." Azir smiled and he did look good, wearing a dark blue suit and tie, expensive Italian shoes and, even though he was a man of small stature, 5 foot 6 inches to be exact, Azir always played the part of the sharp dressed man. Michael was glad to see his friend who had come to Chicago from Bombay at an early age with his loving and protective family, had studied hard and become a successful Pharmacist, with a lovely dark skinned beauty for a bride and three adorable little boys. Michael was happy to see a friendly face. "Listen, we need to get you outta here! Quick! Before you make all these happy people sad!"
"I have to pay my tab and there's a girl out there waiting for me at the bar." Michael explained.
"Here," Azir handed Michael his car keys "Go out and get in my 'vette it's parked across the street. I'll settle your tab and then I'll take you home, maybe stop by my pharmacy and get you some prescription strength Emetrol." Michael thought this was a very good idea.
As Michael slipped out of the noisy, overcrowded bar Azir went over getting Margaret's attention. When he explained Michael was not feeling well she said the only thing Michael owed her was a kiss, when he was feeling better of course. Azir could not help but notice the hot piece of ass in the little plaid skirt, but he did not get her telephone number for his buddy, because Azir was convinced this girl was probably sixteen with a fake I.D., so he hightailed it out of the smokey pub, promising Margaret he would come back Sunday morning to 'chubb up' one of her full Irish breakfasts, the perfect cure for a hangover.
Michael stood out by the white column of the corner bar underneath the old clock, it was now a little after eight, the air was cisp and clear and it was very dark. The street lights and passing cars hurt Michael's eyes and he felt a migraine headache coming on. The two men got into the shiny, highly polished yellow classic '69 Corvette and drove off on Ravenswood Avenue with the windows rolled down. The cool, fresh air blowing through their hair, filling their lungs and genlty caressing their faces. Michael felt a little better leaving the noise of the crowd and the lively music behind. As they headed down Sunny Side, Azir stopped at a red light and that is when the delicious aroma of pizza baking in a brick oven wafted through the air, the tantalizing scent carried upon the breeze. Both men sniffed at the air, Azir smiled and said "It's coming from over there." Azir pointed towards a new pizzeria, called Spacca Napoli, and who doesn't love a nice thick slice of cheesy Neapolitan style pizza. So Azir pulled over and the two men went into the little restaurant; which was inviting and welcoming with the custom built pizza oven in the corner filling the small space with a warm ambiance, as warm and friendly as the smiles on the young women's faces who came to greet them. The lovely hostess sat the two, good looking gentlemen, at a table nearest to the hearth of the large brick oven.
"Thank you, it smells absolutely delicious in here." Azir said, flirting with the young waitress, who came to take their order, saying "That's a pretty name, for a pretty face." when she told him her name was Lucia "Now, Lucia, my friend is not feeling so well, as you can tell by looking at him." Azir paused giving a little laugh "Can you please bring him a nice, ice cold, glass of milk? And when I say ice cold, I mean I want you to, literally, put ice cubes in it." here Michael gave a grimace to his Indian friend. "Trust me, it is the best thing for you, and also bring him a piece of tiramisu, and..," he paused looking over the menu "then a large Donna Regina, the white pie, with extra mozzarella and throw some spinach on top of it, please, and I'll have a cup of hot tea, with extra lemon. Thanks, your a doll." Azir smiled then he turned his attention to Michael giving him serious, concerned look, then he leaned over and said "So spill it Mike, you look like a man who just slit his own wrists."
Michael took in a deep breath and placed his head in his hands, rubbing the temples of his forehead and then he opened up his mouth and the truth of his sitiuation came pouring out, like water coming down a mountain. Now, in the time it took their pizza to bake in the hand made oven, Azir sat there across the table, shocked by Michael's tale of misery and woe. It was a very hard story to listen to, Azir knew of his good friend's problems in the past at other hospitals, but he knew how detrimental this would be, not only to Dr. Cullen's career, but also on his overall mental and pysical health.
Azir sat back saying nothing just sipping his tea, a nice blend of cheery/apricot, as Michael drank the cold milk; which did help to coat and soothe his stomach. The two men sat there in silence as Frank Sinatra's voice sang over the speakers in the nearly empty restaurant. Azir was deep in thought taking in what his, overly depressed, friend had just told him. After thinking long and hard, Azir leaned over the table and said "Listen Mike, what can I say, that was the saddest story I have heard in a long time.., but..," Azir paused and gave a cunning look saying "I think I have an idea that might help you."
"Hello Azir." Michael replied to his friend, Azir Naphtali, whom he had not seen in a while.
"You sick or something?" he asked with a look of concern gently rubbing his tall friend on the back as he bent over the sink. "Damn I've never seen you so terrible looking before.., for once I look better than you." Azir smiled and he did look good, wearing a dark blue suit and tie, expensive Italian shoes and, even though he was a man of small stature, 5 foot 6 inches to be exact, Azir always played the part of the sharp dressed man. Michael was glad to see his friend who had come to Chicago from Bombay at an early age with his loving and protective family, had studied hard and become a successful Pharmacist, with a lovely dark skinned beauty for a bride and three adorable little boys. Michael was happy to see a friendly face. "Listen, we need to get you outta here! Quick! Before you make all these happy people sad!"
"I have to pay my tab and there's a girl out there waiting for me at the bar." Michael explained.
"Here," Azir handed Michael his car keys "Go out and get in my 'vette it's parked across the street. I'll settle your tab and then I'll take you home, maybe stop by my pharmacy and get you some prescription strength Emetrol." Michael thought this was a very good idea.
As Michael slipped out of the noisy, overcrowded bar Azir went over getting Margaret's attention. When he explained Michael was not feeling well she said the only thing Michael owed her was a kiss, when he was feeling better of course. Azir could not help but notice the hot piece of ass in the little plaid skirt, but he did not get her telephone number for his buddy, because Azir was convinced this girl was probably sixteen with a fake I.D., so he hightailed it out of the smokey pub, promising Margaret he would come back Sunday morning to 'chubb up' one of her full Irish breakfasts, the perfect cure for a hangover.
Michael stood out by the white column of the corner bar underneath the old clock, it was now a little after eight, the air was cisp and clear and it was very dark. The street lights and passing cars hurt Michael's eyes and he felt a migraine headache coming on. The two men got into the shiny, highly polished yellow classic '69 Corvette and drove off on Ravenswood Avenue with the windows rolled down. The cool, fresh air blowing through their hair, filling their lungs and genlty caressing their faces. Michael felt a little better leaving the noise of the crowd and the lively music behind. As they headed down Sunny Side, Azir stopped at a red light and that is when the delicious aroma of pizza baking in a brick oven wafted through the air, the tantalizing scent carried upon the breeze. Both men sniffed at the air, Azir smiled and said "It's coming from over there." Azir pointed towards a new pizzeria, called Spacca Napoli, and who doesn't love a nice thick slice of cheesy Neapolitan style pizza. So Azir pulled over and the two men went into the little restaurant; which was inviting and welcoming with the custom built pizza oven in the corner filling the small space with a warm ambiance, as warm and friendly as the smiles on the young women's faces who came to greet them. The lovely hostess sat the two, good looking gentlemen, at a table nearest to the hearth of the large brick oven.
"Thank you, it smells absolutely delicious in here." Azir said, flirting with the young waitress, who came to take their order, saying "That's a pretty name, for a pretty face." when she told him her name was Lucia "Now, Lucia, my friend is not feeling so well, as you can tell by looking at him." Azir paused giving a little laugh "Can you please bring him a nice, ice cold, glass of milk? And when I say ice cold, I mean I want you to, literally, put ice cubes in it." here Michael gave a grimace to his Indian friend. "Trust me, it is the best thing for you, and also bring him a piece of tiramisu, and..," he paused looking over the menu "then a large Donna Regina, the white pie, with extra mozzarella and throw some spinach on top of it, please, and I'll have a cup of hot tea, with extra lemon. Thanks, your a doll." Azir smiled then he turned his attention to Michael giving him serious, concerned look, then he leaned over and said "So spill it Mike, you look like a man who just slit his own wrists."
Michael took in a deep breath and placed his head in his hands, rubbing the temples of his forehead and then he opened up his mouth and the truth of his sitiuation came pouring out, like water coming down a mountain. Now, in the time it took their pizza to bake in the hand made oven, Azir sat there across the table, shocked by Michael's tale of misery and woe. It was a very hard story to listen to, Azir knew of his good friend's problems in the past at other hospitals, but he knew how detrimental this would be, not only to Dr. Cullen's career, but also on his overall mental and pysical health.
Azir sat back saying nothing just sipping his tea, a nice blend of cheery/apricot, as Michael drank the cold milk; which did help to coat and soothe his stomach. The two men sat there in silence as Frank Sinatra's voice sang over the speakers in the nearly empty restaurant. Azir was deep in thought taking in what his, overly depressed, friend had just told him. After thinking long and hard, Azir leaned over the table and said "Listen Mike, what can I say, that was the saddest story I have heard in a long time.., but..," Azir paused and gave a cunning look saying "I think I have an idea that might help you."
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