Old Nicky’s a classy guy. Classy like the swinging casino for Chinese tourists in Pyongyang, when the best in rhinestone-studded Bolex watches and shiny, double-breasted rayon suits mix with a bit of the real thing so’s not even Sam Spade himself could tell the difference.
Classy like the green MOS Burger, instead of the regular red one.
Most of the time, there’s even time and money enough for stools and napkins, if not chairs with backs and printed menus for each table.
Sometimes, though, even old Nicky’s on the run. And sometimes even old Nicky, classy guy that I am, just wants as much dough of the eatin’ kind for as little dough of the spendin’ kind as I can get.
And that means the best ambience in town: Take-Out. Read more