Mama: (screaming) Vinceeent get the phone! I'm busy, I'm making breakfast. It's probably Leroy from down in Harlem.... you know what to do. Just give him the numbers.
Vin: Ahh Ma, do I have to do it again?
Mama: You heard me, give him the damn numbers. Your father is still sleeping. Get the piece of paper, breakfast is almost ready.
Vin: Alright, alright. (It's showtime for this kid as I picked up the phone). Hello... no this is Vincent.
Leroy: Hi Vincent. Can I speak to your dad? It's Leroy.
Vin: Sorry, he's still sleeping Leroy. I know what to do. I got the paper with the numbers. I can do the job. I've done it before. Are you ready for me to start?
Leroy: Okay, okay kid. Take your time and give me the numbers, but tell your dad to call me later.
Vin: Of course I'll tell him. Ya gotta pencil? Are you ready? Mama's making pancakes and they smell good. I'm hungry.
NY could your kid be a bookie as you get to sleep in. So I confess - I'm guilty. I was a child bookie, at least on Saturday mornings.
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