Butchers and Protection Racket

portions of the following program are transcribed. To Diamond, private detective. Doors open.

Mr. Diamond. Well, Angelino, come in. I didn't know whether you were busy or not. If you didn't hear the drums, you know I'm not busy. The drums, Mr. Diamond, was sort of a ritual, Angie.

Every time I get a paying client, my landlord offers up his thanks to the goddess of joy. He plays an old bongo and turns on the heat as a kind of sacrifice. I see. I know you don't. You're too normal.

What's the trouble, Angelino? The pig's knuckles and your bunches are all good arthritis. You're always with the kidding, Mr. Diamond. Yeah. That's the kind of a hairpin I am. Hairpin? Uh, Angie. You got something on your mind. Forget my little assides and let's have it.

I got the big problem, Mr. Diamond. Oh. You mean something's wrong and you can't pay me to take care of it. Oh, no, no. I can pay. Oh, well, then you haven't got a problem. You slip me the cash and I'll move in on your worries.

Well, you see, it's like this. I come to you as a sort of representative for all the other butcher shops, the independent ones. I ain't the only one that's worried. So all the butchers got together last night and decided to do something about it.

I hate to be a nag, but do something about what? We all been paying money to a protective association. Oh? Yeah, every week a couple of guys come around and collect. If we don't pay, we get our shops busted up.

And if that ain't enough, we get our heads busted too. See, I still got three stitches right here on the top of my head. Oh, nice job. What did Dr. Hughes, a loom? I got these last week when those two guys come for the money.