You and your wife worked at Funzone during high school and while you attended community college. It’s where you met, both of you making extra cash by tending to kids’ birthday parties and class trips. You courted her by the balls. You kissed her behind the cover of the Climb Tube. You made love in your car parked out back by the dumpsters where the pizza chefs get high. You proposed to her on stage while the animatronic band played Louie Louie. Now you’re both on the run for stealing seventy six thousand dollars and for killing the manager of Funzone, Lenny Fuonzoni.
“It’s believed that Mr. Fuonzoni was connected to the Leonetti organized crime family out of Rhode Island,” the newscaster is saying on the TV you’re watching in a motel room near Waterville, New Hampshire. Your faces will appear on screen in a minute. You can only hope the motel manager isn’t watching. He didn’t seem to get a very good look at you.
“The police have nicknamed them Mr. and Mrs. Funzone, and they are believed to still be in the Northeast. If you have any information…”
You thought Funzone was an innocent place. You didn’t know that it was a front for the biggest drug and prostitution syndicate in the state. You didn’t know that those kids were playing in balls made of cocaine and sexual commerce. You didn’t know the pizza sauce might as well have been made of blood. You didn’t know that you were helping put an innocent face on evil. When you found out…
“We had to do it,” you tell your wife. “We had to make him pay.”
“Now what?” your wife will ask, staring at the bag of money.
Canada. You need to get to Canada before the Leonettis or the police get to you. If you have to choose, the police will be the much safer bet. You need to keep heading north.
Outside you’ll hear footsteps approaching. They’ll stop outside your door. You’ll wait for a knock. Instead, after a few seconds of silence, a voice that may or may not be Italian will say, “Fun’s over.”
Happy Mr. And Mrs. Funzone Day!
