“So how do I know you’re not a chivato, too, Tony?”
“Hey Sosa, let’s get this straight now. I never fucked
anybody over in my life didn’t have it coming to them. You got that? All I have
in this world is my balls and my word. And I don’t break them for no one. You
understand?”
He felt a testosterone rush, about to gush out of all the
holes on his body. That little piece of ‘Scarface’ made him feel like a cigar-munching
mafia. “Why don’t you come out of that
damn room and brush your teeth at least, for Christ’s sake?” That sudden scream
of his mother broke a few glasses of his daydream wall and made him realize, he
was lying on that bed, with his computer, for a very long time. He started
walking out of his room with a swagger. He could feel a sense of power. He felt
like, “Nobody tells me what to do”. The usual annoying factors from his parents
seemed like a poor man’s cry for him, that time. He couldn’t care less about
it. His reply for their cry had a flavor of command in it. In the mafia world
running on his mind, he started hearing his dog’s barking and granny’s bout
with the maid, in an out focus. As his dad went out to his office and mom
started her routine cooking process, he was left out in the couch, ending up
watching his granny’s favorite sitcom. He couldn’t stand it, when he actually
paid an attention to the show. He felt like removing that whole crap from
airing anymore, with a single command. But sooner did he realize, he didn’t
even have the power to change his very own television’s channel, for, he has to
go war with granny, for doing so. His testosterone started calming down and he
could feel the reduction of that mafia intoxication. He desperately wanted to
sustain that. But the reality didn’t allow him to do so. He tried to plug in
his earphones to supply some ‘Godfather’ to retain one. But it couldn’t help,
since his mother came out again, shouting at his idle status. He couldn’t help
losing his cool this time and started battling with his mother. An abrupt end
to the battle left him baffled and he started roaming restlessly around his
home. But again his awareness came to play, which reinforced his fading mafia-world
attitude, only to chuck all the restlessness and retain his latest gimmick. His
will to power craved to command someone, but subtly. So he sat again on his
couch with a feel of an emperor, choosing his mom for feeding his appetite. With
a smoke-burnished tone he uttered “Mom, I feel like a cup of coffee and I
prefer it black”. Taking a pride on the attitude in which he uttered those
words, he expected his mom to come running down immediately, abiding his
command. She didn’t turn up. He called her again, a little louder this time, “Mom,
I’d like some coffee. BLACK!” She didn’t turn up. His voice kept on increasing,
with an everlasting “MOM!!!” shedding its entire disguise in the process. Sadly,
he couldn’t come out as a winner in that ordeal. That enraged him extremely, to
lose his mind and trot towards the kitchen, to yell at her face to face, only
to find out she wasn’t there at all, all that time. He felt totally lost now.
Any level of awareness couldn’t find a trace of mafia in him anymore. His body
went numb and mind dizzied. His mental faculties lost the ability to grasp his
state of mind. His uncontrolled temperament started crawling slowly from his
feet, lingering all around his body and assembling at his head, to collide and
burst out as a loud scream from his mouth. The moment he opened his tightly
closed eyes, after letting out the cry, he encountered an eyes, staring deeply
at him, politely waiting for his orders. But he couldn’t feel a whit of power
this time. After a long tail-shaking wait, the poor thing left the place,
without receiving any orders. He stood numb, staring without a blink, at the
oscillating tail, as it went back to its kennel. On the out focus of his stare,
his television spoke, “I will make him an offer he can’t refuse”.
