Jeff? Buddy?

“Can’t talk right now. Piano’s broken.”

No noise coming out?

“None at all.”

Lower your hands about 18 inches.

…

“Oh, that’s much better,”

Yeah. You okay?

“I decided to try some of this fentanyl all the kids are talking about. Packs a wallop.”

Please don’t take fentanyl, Jeff Chimenti.

“Makes you feel so warm. It’s like wearing a coat on the inside.”

Uh-huh. Stay away from the opioids.

“You’re not my father.”

I guarantee you that your father would tell you not to use synthetic heroin.

“Probably. He was old-school. He was an immigrant, y’know.”

What was his name?

“Waluigi Boyardee Chimenti.”

That doesn’t sound right.

“Proud man. Worked as a fisherman on the North Shore. Him and my mom raised the three of us right.”

Three of you?

“Me, and my brothers Vince and Dom. I was the only one who made the big leagues of the jam scene. Dom had a cup of coffee with Widespread Panic, but he just didn’t have the chops.”

You’re talking about Joe DiMaggio’s family.

“I am high as shit, man.”

Not a great talk, Jeff.