Winston and Studs: Chapter 1

Chapter 1


It was a cold Chicago night. Studs Turkel, legendary commentator, was out on a moonlight stroll, having recently died. He came across a member of the Latin Kings street gang, Winston McO’Flanigan. They both had secrets, for Studs had hidden treasure under the corner of Fullerton and Sacramento, and Winston was not actually Latin.
Winston knew he hadn’t much time left until his secret was discovered. He had to get out. But being a poor faux-Latin kid from the terminally crappy Humbolt Park area, he had little prospects. It was either hatch some zany scheme that was far too dramatic, or get a U-haul and go to his aunt’s in the suburbs. And he was too young to rent a U-haul.
Studs was a curious fellow. Even more curious now that he was dead, because what’s the worst consequence that could befall him? Besides post-mortem dismemberment by grave robbers and eternal shaming of his corpse?
“Hello, young man,” Studs whispered through the wind.
“Who’s there?” exclaimed Winston, in an almost absurdly thick Irish accent. The “there” sounded like “thar”.
They chatted and blah blah blah: Studs told him where the treasure was buried. This gave Winston an idea - he could hatch a crazy scheme to get out of street life, become successful and rich somehow, and then come back years later to reclaim the treasure for no reason. Studs reminded him of how stupid he must be, and then explained how the treasure could instead be a part of his initial crazy scheme.
“Eureka!” exclaimed Winston, in the single least Latin-sounding exclamation of his life.
Studs followed him home that night and slept in his closet, as he would for weeks as the two hatched a plan to get beneath the Citgo on Fullerton and Sacramento to find that treasure that would save them both.
Well not Studs. He’s already dead.


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