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My name is Tom Scarlatti and my kid brother, Billy, resents me. Of course, if you read magazines, you probably already know that. You probably don't think much of me, either. In fact, you probably think I'm a rotten no-good clod, since my brother Billy the famous…
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But although her culinary plans are running smoothly, my mother’s mood is lethal. Look closely and you can see thin plumes of smoke escaping from her mouth and the tips of two horns peeping between the rollers on top of her head. This is not uncommon for
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“Would you look at that one!” my father said.
“Who did she know?” my mother asked.
“Who did she blow?” my father said loudly, and burst out laughing. I laughed too, although I didn't know why.
My mother shot him one
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