The Gift that Keeps on Giving (old)

When some drunk ass in a bar tells you that he “has friends in high places”, you normally laugh it off. When Sammy Caruso told me this, I know I did, too. That was my first mistake.1

Sammy Caruso was a short guy with a high pitched voice – The Italian Gary Coleman. The only thing that Sammy ever had going for him was that his uncle was some big mafia underboss. If you didn’t know this to begin with, then you learned it quickly enough. Ben did:2

When they found him in the McDonald’s parking lot, his dick was tied to the golden arches.3

He wasn’t.4

So you would think that, considering how well I knew Ben, I would have been careful. I would have made sure to recognize Sammy Caruso.5

How wrong you are.6

How wrong I was.7

For Christmas Eve, I went out to O’Flannaghan’s with a few friends. We got pretty drunk, picked up some chicks and were about ready to go home when I stumbled into Sammy Caruso. He told me to apologize for disrespecting him. I said it was an accident.8

This, in the mind of an Italian, does not count as an apology. Rightfully so, he follows this with what I do not count as an expected response to an apology. Right hook.9

When I came to, I was bound to a chair in a dark room. There was a stinging pain across my face from my right temple down to my jaw. I couldn’t open that eye. Couldn’t see out of that side. And this is when I see Sammy. Alone. Five inches away from my fuckin’ face.10

“I’m feelin’ generous. All I want is the apology I deserve.” He says as he pulls my face into his mouth by the hair. I guess he wanted to make sure I could hear him. I can barely speak.11

“Mmm . . Srrrryy. SSssssooo, sssrrryy.”12

“I know what you mean. Good enough. Apology accepted.” Sammy walks behind me. “I’m a forgiving guy. I guess you’re getting’ your Christmas present a little early this year, huh?” I hear a switchblade. “Well, I’m gonna forgive ya. I’m not gonna touch you as you walk out that door.” He cuts through the rope easily enough. I guess I was just tired.13

I don’t even look back at him. My face hurts. My legs ache like hell. They must be bruised to hell.”14

When I reach the door, I look back in Sammy Caruso’s direction. I can’t see out of that eye, but I know he’s there.15

“Go on. I ain’t gonna touch you.”16

I open the door. The soft, soft sound of snowfall embraces me with the gust of chilled wind. What little snow is on the ground so far crunches as I step out into the parking lot. It keeps crunching, but I’ve already stopped walking. “Hey!” I feel a tap on my shoulder and start to turn around.17

“I’m Sammy’s cousin.” The voice behind me says. “He told me to tell you: Merry Christmas, motherfucker.”18

You would expect the usual pinging sound it makes when used in practice, but when your back is getting beaten in with an aluminum softball bat, it makes the same damned thud sound that any other object does.19

“And a happy new year.”