🍝 THE DAILY SITDOWN 🍝

So this kid, Debertolis, right? Twenty-nine years old, a *professional* orienteer. Orienteering! You ever hear of such a thing? Sounds like something they’d play in fuckin’ summer camp. Anyway, this guy’s running around in China – Chengdu, they call it. Sounds like some kinda place you’d only find on a map Paulie Walnuts drew after a couple of Manhattans. He’s at these World Games – a whole bunch of sports nobody gives a shit about, except for the people who play 'em, capisce? Like a smaller, cheesier Olympics. This guy’s in the *final* of some middle-distance race, and it’s a scorcher – over 30 degrees. Thirty degrees! You could fry an egg on the sidewalk in that heat, let alone run a race. So, he keels over. Just…drops. Like a bad meatball on a bad day. Right there, in the middle of his big moment. The organisers found him unconscious – unconscious! Can you believe the fuckin’ nerve? They probably thought he was just taking a little *siesta* in the middle of the competition. They rushed him to the hospital – one of China’s *leading* medical institutions, they said. Like that means anything. Coulda been a goddamn outhouse for all I know, these places are… different. Four days later, *bam*. He’s gone. Dead. Twenty-nine years old. Poof. Like a goddamn plate of gabagool disappearing at a family gathering. They don’t know what killed him. Somethin’ they call “unknown at this stage.” Sounds kinda familiar. Reminds me of that time I went to see Dr. Cusamano – he was “assessing my situation.” I’m still waiting for the diagnosis on that one. This Debertolis kid, he finished fifth in some World Cup thing last year. Fifth! Like that’s something to write home about. Five outta how many? Fifty? Hundred? I’ve seen better finishes in a plate of eggplant parmesan. The World Games people are saying they’ll “support the family,” blah blah blah. That’s the usual song and dance, right? They’ll send a fruit basket and a heartfelt note, then promptly forget the whole thing happened. So the kid croaks, a real fuckin’ tragedy. But you gotta ask yourself: what's the big deal? He was an orienteer, for Christ's sake. Not a surgeon. Now, *if* this happened to a real somebody… somebody who knew how to make a few bucks, maybe then it'd be a different story. This? Fuhgeddaboudit. Let's go get some gabagool. I'm starving.