All the kids who were reared in the 6th Boro, went to Goldy's when they wanted to get drunk. Whether you had a Fake ID, or a piece of looseleaf paper, Goldy's sold to anybody. Goldy's was run by an old gold prospector named Flam who named the place after his dog, who he had to eat once when he was lost up in the hills of some South American country while looking for gold. He never found any gold, but when he made it back to the States in the 60s, his Mom had passed away and left him enough money to open Goldy's. Since getting drunk was actually something Flam loved more than gold, or even the idea of being rich, he felt like he had struck it big. Plus, he always hated his mother, who coincidentally, also liked to drink. Goldy's disappeared years ago from the 6th's neighborhood called Brick Kiln, but popped up just yesterday in the town of East Rockaway out in LI. I asked the guy inside what happened to Flam and he said he became a tree. "Lucky bastard," I said. |