A Beating Sometime
Sliding into the back door of Lou’s Pub, carrying a briefcase, was Micky the Stick, and unlike many small-time thieves, his little gang chose to wear suits to look more professional.
Micky acquired the name “the Stick” when he was a kid and his cousin needed a new pair of shoes, and Micky decided to get the money for the shoes by emptying the cash register at Mr. Hammond’s hardware store one afternoon. Mr. Hammond wasn’t able to get the money back from Micky, but he did beat Micky with a three-foot-long piece of wood in the middle of the street.
Kids in the neighborhood heard about Micky’s beating, and how well he took it, which earned him his moniker. Also, he was skinny, so that helped the name stick.
Switching on the lights in the pub, Micky could hear beeping and looked over to see the security system on the wall. He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket that had a ten-digit number written on it and started punching the digits into the system’s number pad, but when he was five digits in he stopped as the sound from pressing the buttons reminded him of the melody to Funky Town.
He took his time to think if it really was the right melody, but he was snapped out of his trance by the sound of the alarm going off. Micky punched in the last five digits in the security system’s number pad, and the alarm went silent. At that moment, one thing became clear to him; it was definitely the melody to Funky Town.
Micky walked over to the bar and lay the briefcase on top of it next to a picture of the owner’s family and a stack of past-due bills. He grabbed himself a bottle of whiskey and poured himself a double. As the smooth liquid was warming up his belly, the back door to Lou’s Pub flew open.
Coming through the door were the Sullivan brothers, Frank and Billy. The older brother Frank was a high school dropout because his brain didn’t work when it came to learning anything academic, and the younger brother Billy dropped out of high school to be like his older brother Frank. Billy spent his life copying whatever his brother did, but this was a rare night when he got the chance to be original, as he was the only one with a bullet bouncing around in his belly.
“Get a fucking doctor down here!” yelled Frank to Micky while dragging his blood dripping brother along. Frank laid his brother on a table and said, “Jesus Christ. You’re going to be alright, Billy Boy. Don’t worry, you’re going to be alright”
“I’m fucking dying, Frankie,” said Billy, wide-eyed and pale. “You gotta help me. I’m fucking… I don’t want to die.”
Micky raced over to the table where Billy lay and said, “What the hell happened? I thought you guys made it out of there clean?”
Frankie took off his jacket and his shirt, and pressed his shirt up against Billy's stomach in a futile attempt to stop the outpour of blood. “On the way to our car, some guy wanted to be a hero. You call that fucking doctor yet, Stick?” said Frankie.
“We can’t call a fucking doctor,” replied Micky.
Frankie grabbed Micky by his jacket, pulled him close, and said, “What?”
Micky tried to pull Frankie off of him, but Frankie had truck driver forearms with a combat action grip. “Get off of me. You know I can’t call a doctor. Am I supposed to ring up a hospital and ask one of them to come down here to patch up a fucking crook?”
Frankie punched Micky in the face, knocking him to the floor. Micky hit the floor hard and the punch broke his nose which started to spit out blood. Micky reached into the back of his pants and pulled out his gun, inspiring Frankie to do the same.
While Billy lay on the table, his moans for help getting softer, Frankie and Micky had their guns pointed at each other, aching to pull the trigger. The back door to Lou’s Pub crept open, causing both men to look over at it, and a curious face poked through.
“Fuck you doing here, Lou?” said Frankie.
“What the fuck am I doing here? It’s my goddamn bar and I got a call from the security company. What’s all this?” replied Lou.
“I need to get my brother to a doctor, Lou,” said Frankie. “He’s not doing too good, and your cousin here doesn’t know how to get with the program.”
The three men looked around as there was a sound of sirens, while red and blue lights started flashing through the opaque windows of the bar. Frankie continued to stare at the windows, as Micky shot him twice in the chest. Micky got up from the floor and pointed his gun at Billy, but there was no point in shooting him as he was already wide-eyed and dead.
Micky got up from the floor and said to Lou, “The briefcase on the bar should cover your bills,” as Lou snapped his head to the bar and back, mouth ajar. There was a banging on the front door of the pub, and a man on the other side of it yelled, “Police!”
Micky the Stick raced to the front door of the pub, pointed his gun at it, and said to Lou, “You better spend it well, because I don’t think I’ll be able to take any more beatings for you,” before the front door to the pub was kicked in and the shooting commenced.