My Family Christmas Party



“You’ve got to be fuckin kidding me”

Thats what I said when I found out Frankie was gettin out of jail for the holidays. Fuckin crazy. Dude’s been down since the good old days, you know? That shit should be cool, I thought, we could hook up, drink some Hamm’s, cruise around the town, and raise some hell, you know? Too bad the Camaro aint running, shit, then we’d be cruising in style.

I fire up the datsun and head down to Target, to pick up Cheryl from work, and tell her the good news. She was out front like always, smoking a camel, talking to this black dude. She is always talking to him, they must be real good friends, he’s there every night. The coolest thing is, I dont even think he works there. I never see him in a target uniform, just plain, average clothes, so I think he’s a customer, and she is just going the “extra mile” by being real freindly. Thats whats cool about Cheryl, she’s a real 9 to fiver, always helping out.

So she hops in my ride, and I say “check this out, guess who’s coming to ma’s party??” She just kinda stared at me… “fuck, Mike, I dont know… who??”all pissy and shit. “FRANKIE!!!” I yelled..the bitch blew a fuckin gasket… she fuckin flipped her lid right there. “Fuck that mike, we arent going… thats it”.. She said, throwing down her apron. See, she always gets her panties in a bunch when Frankie comes around. She thinks we get into trouble together. I dont see what the problem is, he’s my cousin, we been stirrin up shit for years, you know? Back in the day, she fucked him, he didnt seem so bad then, now did he? I dont know what her deal is. “I am not going. Fuck it….I am not putting up with this shit, I am going to Julio’s house tommorow”. She said. Julio is her little mexican freind from work. He barely speaks english, but they are good freinds, she goes over there, and hangs out and shit, and they talk about work, I guess. She says I can’t come with her, cause I dont like Mexicans. Whatever muchacho… I dont want to hear about half-off sales and inventory anyway. I got work on the damn Camaro to do, I can’t fuck with that shit.

So I get to ma’s house and she’s already got the dogs cooked up, and fucking pork and beans, and the whole bit. A real Christmas dinner. We commence the chow. As I sit there, getting my grub on, the door swings open. I about shit myself. “ARE WE READY TO PARTY??” Frankie yelled. “Brotha… how long you been out of the joint, man?” I asked. “About a half an hour dude… you ready to fucking party??” Hell yeah. Me and frankie always made a good team. “So, Mikey, what have you been up to?” he asked. I told him how I was all sophisticated and shit now, that I was a “internet columnist” and shit. And I went to see Harry Potter. “That dont sound like the Mikey I know dude… shit. You still cool?” he asked. “Yeah, dude.” so we headed out. Mom was pissed, she bought me a new air freshener with the chicks asses, in the truck bed.. says “hauling ass”.. fuck mom, I already got that shit. Next thing you know, she’ll want to get me a ANOTHER pair of taz mudflaps or some shit.

We took off in the Datsun.. cruising down the road, some AC/DC playing, it was the shit. “So how’s your bitch, mike, she still got that fine ass?” he asked. “well, its getting bigger, man, she’s knocked up” I replied. “damn, dude…..aint mine this time!” he said. I dont know what the fuck he meant by that, but we kept goin. Finding a tavern thats open on christmas day is a bitch. I guess some pussies don’t want to party down. We pulled up to a stoplight, and some high school kids pulled up. Thats when the real shit started.

At first I thought these kids was cool, you know. One of them said “NICE HAIR, MAN!!” and I was like thanks, dude, I worked hard on the hair. One of them was like “ROCK ON DUDES!!!” and started laughin and shit. I was like “FUCK YEAH” “ROCK ON FOREVER!!!” And raised my fist In the air, staring forward, lip clenched, and I dropped the clutch, burning the tires across the intersection. It was in a moment, dude.

The kids pulled up again, and I was looking over, givin em the snarl. These kids have to have someone cool to look up to, you know, otherwise, they are lost. One of them yells “you thirsty?” at me. “fuck, I guess I am, why?” I asked. The kid says “DRINK THIS, RETARD!” and threw a 32oz fountain cup full of soda at my face. It got all over me, inside the car and shit. They started busting up laughing, and shit, and took off, I sped up. I got up close, and rammed right into their little jap crap peice of shit, and spun it out. They hit the curb, flipped over about three times, and landed in the parking lot of the Piggy mart, upside down. I jumped out of my ride, and swayed up to the scene.

The kids started getting out of their shit, all upside down. I stood their a minute. “The double M dont fuck around”. One of the kids was like “fuck you, you crazy asshole”. Wiping his mouth. “YOU WANNA GO, HUH?” I yelled, slapping my chest. “YOU WANNA GO, TURKEY, LETS DO IT” I yelled, as I walked up. The kid took a swing. I ducked, and gut-punched him, and as he bent over, I kneed him in the face, splattering blood everywhere. One of his freinds walked towards me, and Frankie jumped his shit, beating on his dome. Another kid comes running at me with a bat. He hit me in the side, and the bat broke. “NOW WHAT THE FUCK YOU GONNA DO??” I yelled, pissed as fuck. I took the rest of the bat, and stabbed him in the face with it. Then I kicked him in the head again. Then I fuckin loogied on his bloody face. “I told you motherfucker”. I said. I found the kid, all bloodied up, who threw the pop at my face. I took my fingers, and stuck em down my ass crack, scooping a bit of fudge and sweat. I stuck it up to his nose, to wake him up. He awoke, all shocked and shit. “Next time… ask somebody motherfucker” then I knuckled up his pumpkin real good, and knocked him the fuck out again.

So it was pretty fun. Hell of a night. I heard yesterday frankies back in the pokey; I guess the pigs got him for stealing a burrito and some ciggarettes from the 7-11. They will be after me next. The pigs will fuck with me.

They always do.


Mike Mulletino is a former Columnist for He now lives in Forest Grove, Oregon, in the Rose Grove Trailer Park.. He can be reached by e-mail. He cannot be reached by phone, that shit’s been disconnected.