“This Taros guy made a really big thing about how wasteful it was to invest in another person, how a fellow was better off focusing on his business ventures and taking a tumble in the sheets when it was necessary. One of Taros’ sons did a great job of tuning him out, so much so that as soon as a girl showed him any interest, he forgot everything he was taught.”

“Are you planning on getting to your point anytime soon, son? I have a date to pick up,” he stated, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Taros’ other son …”

“The mouthy one?” he interrupted, appearing quite pleased with his perceived cleverness.

“He’s more commonly referred to as the good-looking one,” I corrected, earning a laugh and a pat on the back from my old man. “This handsome son, he listened to the stupid shit that came out of his dad’s mouth, and it shaped his ideology about relationships. So, while Father-eager-egg and Brother-eager-egg find themselves wooing women, Good-looking-egg is going about his business and doing just fine.”

“Alright, alright,” my father conceded, gesturing for me to follow him to the front door, where he bundled himself up in his coat. “I won’t give you guff about it as long as you offer your congratulations.”

“What am I congratulating you for?” I asked, but I was positive I already knew.

“I’m asking Sally to marry me tonight.” He looked happy and strangely relieved.

“A congratulations would be premature since you haven’t asked her yet.”

“I know she’ll say yes,” my father said confidently, extending his hand. I shook it and watched as he opened the door. “And son? You do have plans tonight, don’t you?”

“I do,” I confirmed skeptically.

“Good. I intend to bring Sally back here for our private celebration, if you know what I mean.” He winked, and I wanted to vomit.

“You’re as subtle as a jackhammer, so I do in fact know what you mean,” I cringed, thinking I would need to down a few extra shots of whiskey to detoxify my mind.

Chicago was tired. A metropolis that had sizzled with energy for the better part of a decade had succumbed to an insolvent slumber, exhausted by the money it could not make. Traveling on the L beside the celebrators, it was apparent that the spiritedness had been sapped from them too. Faces once dewy and wide were dull and wan from worry. Perhaps I looked the same way, beaten by a bankrupt present and fearful of the fortuneless future in front of us. Our capitalistic society had made us cadavers with picked pockets and stolen watches, survival of the slickest.