If you had not read the ramp up to this - the last scene behold the following button http://hughsmuse.blogspot.com/2011/01/la-mela.html (cut and paste).
...The boys were in big trouble. Only a few bucks left between them, after spending it on travelin' beers and road smokes, the boys feared that between them they didn't have enough to buy a single meatball, let alone the five course "last supper" before the long walk into the Hudson.
"We... um."
"White or red?"
"Red!"
"White!"
Two bottles of fine table dego red and white wines were fisted onto the table with the smashing grace of a punch by the Rocky Marciano. The two, dumbfounded just looked at each other with panic driven sweat, moving southbound upon their worried brows. The old one, revered by the others as "nonno", stood barrel chested next to their table. His hairy arms were folded like broken pythons. A single pinky finger was encrusted with gold and a single solitary diamond.
"Um... we... were just ahem..."
"Here you go! Buon Mangiare! Idiotas!"
"Um. Gracias!"
"Che di spagnolo, lei al!"
The big Ragu lumbered away from the table his eyes never leaving the boys. A maniacal smile on his lips baring a single gold tooth - a tad gaudy, but this was lil' Italy.
Mouths oozed with delight as the appetizer appeared.
"Some kind of salted meat, which is like really awesome and ridiculo 'r spinach... I don't know what this is, dude but it ain't spaghetti! And I'm cool with 'at."
The wines were poured. The table once more was cleared and replaced with who knows what. And our two intrepid rennaisance men feasted with chomping and tearing, and hardly paying any attention to the falderall that was happening on the opposite side of the room.
The table was cleared. And once more replaced with more food, quicker than either of them could say "Un momento".
Four beautiful women in the corner, one unfortunately at a loss for cash. No card.
I have travelers checks.
"We no take a the traveler check. How you gonna pay?"
Half a fork full of pasta stringing from his mouth the older of the two brothers cautiously whimpered to his brother, "We're gonna die."
He continued to slirp the remains into his mouth. And they listened, while cautiously twirling another fork-full.
"What can you do?" Nonno Asked. "He licked his lips and twisted his mustache."
"I can sing."
Oh really.
Yeah. Classical.
"Sing for us. You pay us like that. Sing."
Suddenly, the music that was softly - almost serenely playing in the background as a sublime dream steeped in garlic and blood red wine stopped playing. In hushed anticipation, the restaurant became the setting for a glorious opera. Those dining had become choir-extras as the victory unwound itself.
Mimi begins a capella. Her voice was young and rich, though the creature herself appeared pale in her fear. She rose.
Nonno closed his eyes. His arms unwound like two enormous pythons - one with a gold and solitary diamond eye at its sharpest tooth.
She closed her eyes as though accepting an invitation to perhaps fall in love with whomever might be willing to share the light with her.
The boys glistened now with sweat. The garlic and heavy olive oil churned the bellies.
The big Ragu stood in the corner eyeing any dissenters to her shedding payment.
Mimi finished.
There was a slight pause. The air in the restaurant was thick and still.
Shallow whispers.
He's gonna kill that woman.
"Sciocchezze!"
"Bravo! "
La Mela exploded. Nonno and Ragu and the other jumped up and down shouting and screaming at the top of their lungs. Ragu came to the table, and with his enormous mits grabbed our wine bottle and pummeled them without mercy or fear of them breaking into a thousand shards of glass. Cheering and ranting.
Nonno grabbed the dangling string of the enormous electric phallus. Flicking what appeared to be equivalent of a large pubic hair, so that the light would not only turn on and off, but throb,
The boys looked at one another. Terror.
The noise died down allowing the Ragu to return to their table. Coming off of his high, he smiled allowing that opulent piece of dental work to shine through his crooked lips.
"Coffee? Cappucino?"
"Cappucino."
"No! Haha."
"You?"
He knew he was dead anyways.
"Just a coffee, thanks."
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