Nov. 9 The Messenger

You know what I think? Fuck it. Let’s shoot the messenger. No, hear me out, okay? Guy comes in here all cocky, thinks he can just say what he wants and nothing is going to happen to him? Because he’s the messenger, and there happens to be a saying about not shooting messengers? Look at him over there. Smoking. Eddie, did he ask you if he could smoke? This is your place, isn’t it? He should have asked. Getting ash all over the fucking table cloth. Thinks he can do what he wants, because he’s a messenger and messengers are protected. No, it is a problem. Because it is! It’s rude! I think these messengers have been skating for too long, is what I think.

I mean, listen to us, sitting here going back and forth about what kind of message we want to send back. He comes in here and says, Hey, The Flaherty boys sent me to tell you to clear out of the east side by the end of the week, strong arming us, and we’re debating the tone of our response. Like a god damn high school forensics team or something. You know what I think? I think we send this head back in a box, that’s a message they’ll read loud and clear.

Look at him now! He’s got his feet up on the table! These messengers, they’re like animals, I tell ya!

No, see, you’re wrong about that. I know that’s the, what ya call it, common conception, you don’t shoot the messengers because he’s not the one doing the thing that has you riled. But think about this. The Flaherty’s sent this guy, which means they know him, which means the trust him. Which means they’d miss him if he was dead.

You know what, you say that like it’s a criticism but I don’t take it that way. I do have a thing against messengers. Hate every one of them. Think they’re so great, coming and going. Who needs it?

I think shooting messengers should be standard procedure. Every messenger has got to go. Think about it, the Flaherty’s decide the want to move on our territory, start planning it out, but protocol demands they send a messenger. So they start thinking, who we gonna send? Now, if they knew that it was a sure thing that whoever they sent was gonna die, they’d have to think about it pretty hard, wouldn’t they? They’d have to think about who they could afford to lose. And then maybe they’d think, I can’t afford to lose anyone over just sending a message. And then maybe they think, fuck it, I don’t want the east side so much anyway after all. Beef squashed before it’s even begun.

Come on, let’s just shoot him. All right, how about we just knock him around a little, then? Maybe smack his face. Break his finger? Okay, how about a toe? You ever break a toe? That is a pain you just have to wait out, my friend.