— Eye on Everett —

The Blue Suit

The mayor’s Blue Suit and Josh Resnek talk about the coming of Christmas

“Carlo had a big year, even by his standards. I know it. I was there.”

The Blue Suit to Josh Resnek Tuesday afternoon


“What about the year was big for Carlo?” I asked the Blue Suit. “Be honest, please.”

“I’m surprised at you, Josh for questioning my honesty. I’m not Carlo – and don’t ever forget that. I may be his slave but I am not him – not at all – nothing – zero. I am myself. I am painfully honest. I pay dearly for telling the truth,” the Blue Suit replied.

“That was quite a soliloquy. I almost cried,” I told the Blue Suit. “Let’s come back to earth. Let’s talk Carlo. What I’d love to do with you I can’t do.”

“What is that?” the Blue Suit wondered.

“I’d like to pretend I’m Carlo as though I’m acting him on the stage. I know I’d be pretty good at it.”

“I bet you would,” added the Blue Suit.

“Would I need his permission to be him on the stage?” I asked. The Blue Suit thought about that for a moment.

“I’m sure if you paid him properly he would accept such a request – but maybe not from you, now come to think of it,” he said to me.

“Yeah. I guess you’re right. We don’t really communicate with one another. I mean…we don’t directly communicate. Nearly every day, in one way or another, our paths cross and information gets exchanged without ever speaking directly to one another. It’s a bit like magic when you get right down to it,” I added.

“Actually, when you think it out, Carlo and I communicate very well. There is no ambiguity about Carlo’s feelings for me. The case can be made that there is no ambiguity about my feelings for Carlo. He doesn’t like to admit he thinks about me… but he does. He pretends he doesn’t read the Leader Herald… but he does. So you see, Carlo and I, in fact, communicate. Therapists would agree, we need to sharpen just a bit our communication skills.”

“Are you trying to be funny, Josh?” the Blue Suit asked me. “Why yes. I am,” I replied.
“Well you’re not…funny, Josh. Carlo doesn’t think you’re funny. Jerry doesn’t believe you’re funny. Eric Demas could do without you as could nearly everyone on the mayor’s staff and in the city solicitor’s office except for the mole,” the Blue Suit told me. “I know,” he insisted.

“Who’s the mole?” I asked.

“Come on, Josh. Don’t lie to me. You know who the mole is,” said the Blue Suit.

Before I could answer him, the Blue Suit let out a roar.

“I’m hungry,” the Blue Suit told me. I could eat a horse.” We were walking down Broadway. We had just passed McKinnon’s. Yup. You guessed it. We went into DiBlasi’s.

“Do I know you?” the guy behind the counter in DiBlasi’s asked the Blue Suit.

“I don’t think so,” the Blue Suit replied.

“You look awfully familiar to me. Are you the guy Resnek writes about – the mayor’s Blue Suit?” the counter man asked.

“Yes. That’s me,” the Blue Suit admitted.

The counter guy came out from behind the counter. He extended his hand to the Blue Suit.

“I’ve been wanting to meet you for a long time. What a pleasure this is.” They shook hands heartily.

“Would you mind giving me your autograph?” he asked. He grabbed a paper bag. He handed the Blue Suit a pen. The Blue Suit signed his name with a flourish.

“Wow! Everyone in my house is going to love this. We are bigtime Blue Suit fans. Meeting you is like meeting a Holly- wood celebrity,” he added. I can’t believe this!!!!”

“ I didn’t think you really existed!”

“You’re like meeting a Super Hero or Captain America.” The Blue Suit gushed a bit.

“Can you get me a large Italian with everything and hot peppers, please. I’m starved,” the Blue Suit told the counter man. “And two large fries and a meatball sub to go?” the Blue Suit asked.

“My pleasure. And it’s on me,” said the counter man.

“I never thought I’d meet the Blue Suit in person. What a rush!” said the counter man. “you don’t have any idea how many people I know are going to ask me about my meeting with you.”

A small crowd closed in around the Blue Suit inside DiBlasi’s, everyone asking him for autographs.

One kid pushed his way inside the circle. He asked the Blue Suit for cash.

“Go see Carlo for cash,” the Blue Suit suggested.

“Does Carlo have any cash?” the kid repeated.

“Ask him. Don’t ask me. He makes more money than the mayor of Boston. Do you think he’s got any cash? Huh?” “Where is the mansion I read about where the mayor and you live?” the kid asked.

The Blue Suit made a map for him on a napkin.

Pointing with a pen, he showed the kid where to go.

“Head down Elm Street until you come to Abbott Avenue, turn left. We live at the end of the street where it turns. Just knock on the door. Don’t tell Carlo I sent you.”

The kid did as the Blue Suit told him.

At the front door to the mayor’s house, the kid pounded on the front door.

The mayor answered the door.

“What do you want, kid?” he asked.

“I need some cash, Mr. Mayor. I was told if I came to your house, you’d give me some cash.”

“What are you looking for, kid? How much?” the mayor asked.

“Just $500.”

The mayor scowled. He told the kid to get off his property. “I gut no cash, kid. Unless you’re selling something, I’d ask you to leave right now and please, never come back,” the mayor told him.

He slammed the door shut.

The kid ran back to DiBlasi’s.

The Blue Suit was just finishing up the second of two orders of French fries after finishing off a large Italian with everything. “Excuse me, Mr. Blue Suit,” the kid said deferentially. “The mayor said he had no cash.”

“Didn’t he tell you he’s the highest paid mayor in the state?

Did he go into the bit about how he’s going to inherit a fortune? Did he tell you has supposedly has two safes inside the house filled with…well, I don’t really know what’s inside the safes.”

“He said nothing about that.”

“I gut no cash kid is what he said to me. That’s it.”

The Blue Suit reached inside his pocket. He pulled out two Benjamin Franklins.

“Here you go kid. Here’s $200 for you.”

The kid took the c-notes. He couldn’t believe it.

He hugged the Blue Suit.

“I’ve known you were a great guy since I started reading about you last year. Giving me this money proves it.”

And with that the kid flew out of DiBlasi’s.

“I’ll bet you I never see that kid again,” the Blue Suit said to me.

“Nooooo!” I scowled and howled with sarcasm.

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