Fuck You! by Dan Tracy

August 5, 2008
I was arrested today for assault.

My girlfriend Chrissie owns an antique shop; she buys and sells to walk-in customers and on Ebay. Typing at the computer and catering to the walk-ins was too much work for one person so she hired a guy, a neighborhood jobless guy she felt sorry for to do the Ebay data entry. The guy, Sal Monella, made numerous errors and refused to acknowledge them even after giving him six chances to correct his mistakes. She fired him.

The next day Chrissie receives an email from Sal:

“If you weren’t such a shameless BITCH…you always have to blame someone. It is usually me even if it’s not my fault. So, go ahead Chris, fire me. What goes around comes around. I know plenty about you AND I have some important friends. Clean the worthless crap out of your store. I’ve notified the fire marshal about your sloven house keeping habits. You are full of yourself.

FUCK YOU!”

I’m at work; Chrissie emails me Sal’s threats. Enraged, I immediately left work to confront him. As I rode through his neighborhood, I spotted him about to enter his apartment. I parked my car, ran across the street.

“What’s with the threatening email?” I asked.

Sal’s answer, “Fuck you…what are you gonna do about it?”

That’s when I lost it. I caved his face in with a flurry of straight rights, three or four I think followed by a left hook. As he dropped to the sidewalk flashbacks of ghetto warfare took over. I went medieval on his ass. I kicked his face in to make sure he stayed down so he couldn’t retaliate. He bled like a stuck pig.

I drove to Chrissie’s store and waited for the police to arrest me. About a half hour later, the cops handcuff me and take me in. I went through the routine finger printing and mug shot then locked up in the bullpen with a couple of junk sick dope fiends for 4 hours. Not a pretty sight as one keeled over puking his guts out. I had a flashback from my 40 years ago heroin addiction run of 13 years. Glad I cleaned up since then. At 62, the monkey no longer claws my back.

Chrissie bailed me out.

August 14, 2008

Court arraignment day. My lawyer, Joe, called and told me I didn’t have to show up for court today. He said he’d handle the preliminaries since I was already out on bail and aware of the charge.

August 15, 2008

Joe called, told me to be in court on the 22nd, 9am.

August 22, 2008

Mediation date set for September 4, 2008.

September 4, 2008

The mediation process consists of both Sal and I agreeing to a settlement that we can both live with. This was a chance to settle our dispute out of court. Sal refused to participate. He said he wanted me “Prosecuted to the full extent of the law.” In other words, jail time. So…it’s back to the courtroom.

After some paper pushing and lawyer prosecutor fencing, I received a 1-year jail sentence suspended with 2 years probation. This I can deal with, no problem at all. Sal said I broke his nose. I didn’t. Although I wish I had.

Sal is 50 years old, 6 feet 2 inches tall, 250 pounds and in good shape. I am 62, 190 pounds and 5 feet 11 inches tall. I think Sal is embarrassed and humiliated because he didn’t defend himself; he just dropped to the ground like the proverbial sack of shit. Moreover, to add insult to injury the cop that interviewed him asked him why he let an old man beat him up…har-har.

This is why Sal is hell-bent on putting me behind bars. I had to sign a restraining order stating I can’t talk to him or be anywhere near him. We both live in the same neighborhood. Does this mean I have to cross the street if Sal is walking on the same side of the sidewalk as I am?

Afterthoughts:

I learned early in life the power of fear and violence. A human face bashed in with a baseball bat or crushing a windpipe with a strategically placed heel of an engineer boot settles disputes without fail. My government teaches me these things every day. If you have problems with a city, country or nation, invade, napalm and destroy. It’s the natural order of life and death. Violence always prevails.

Sal Monella is a bonafied nut case and needed to be taught to stay away from Chrissie. That is why I “handled it” my way, as the police report stated.

In the end I concluded, although the court will disagree, I did the right thing. Sometimes we all need a good ass kicking. No one is exempt. This time it was Sal’s turn. My final words for Sal Monella:

“FUCK YOU!”

8 comments:

Jimmy Callaway said...

Some fellas just need a beating.

Rey A. Gonzalez said...

You're a scary dude, Dan. Neat writing, but you're still a scary guy. Don't come to my house. We'll have problems.

Dan Tracy said...

Jimmy, Rey....It's only fiction. I'm only a "tough guy" in my writing. I simply don't get along well with reality.

Alan Griffiths said...

Dan, just caught up with a few things and had a chance to read your piece - glad I did and liked it a lot!

Thula7 said...

I bit on the title, and yeah, great piece and to a certain extent, so true (though I have never actually beaten anyone.) Love the name, Sal Monella.

Jen Steffen

Dan Tracy said...

Thankyou for the kind words, Jen. Check out my interview at this link:

Dan Tracy said...

http://pulpmetalmagazine.webs.com/writersinterviews.htm

chris cali said...

I wonder who Chrissy is? LOL