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Writer's pictureKailani

Memory


It was a slow day at the Spiked Tiger, most of the employees had finished their daily tasks and were gathered on or around the stage making small talk. Gina, the youngest of the dancers and newest addition turned to Ike with a pensive look on her face. “Hey, Ike…how come Mr. Sykes calls you Sam? Isn’t your full name Isaac?” Gina’s curiousity only grew when she heard Beverly and Evelyn burst into a fit of giggles. “Cazzo, that giant bozo still insists on humiliating me at any chance he gets.” Isaac pouted a little as he stewed over the ridiculous name his cohort gave him. He gave Gina a look before diving into the story of how he got his unusual nickname.

The bang of a backfiring car caused the slender elk to jump slightly. He was unfamiliar with this area of New York, he steered clear knowing it was the territory of the Russian Mafia and due to his association with the Italian Mafia it was no surprise that it made him antsy to be here. Why he had agreed to meet up with this perfect stranger he would never know but when the mysterious individual mentioned dealings with liquor Isaac Martinelli knew he wanted in. So that’s how he found himself alone, in the middle of enemy territory, with nothing but a small switchblade to defend himself with. He flipped up the collar of his jacket in an attempt to block some of the wind that ripped through the busy street. “Are you the Italian suka*?” The rumbling voice interrupted Ike’s thoughts and he spun around to face the speaker. “Depends, are you the Russian carogna** that reached out?” Ike squinted as he tried to make out the shadowy figure that was addressing him. He noticed with a groan that the secretive being was not alone. “Didn’t know I needed to bring friends, thought this was a private affair?” “Just precaution. Can never be too careful these days, da?” The orator stepped out from the allyway, the light from the short lamppost illuminated his face. Ike couldn’t help but gawk a little. This guy was massive, at least twice Ike’s size. He was an Amur Tiger, albino from the looks of it, his eyes a pale violet color. He had several angry pink scars on his hands and forearms and a hint of a ragged wound on his chest peaked out from his dress shirt. Ike swallowed hard as he sized up the tiger. “Right. So, we gonna get down to business. You were a bit unclear over the phone…” Ike trialed off as the tiger took several steps forward until his large pink nose was taking up most of Ike’s vision. “Silence samka suka. You nag like woman.” He turned to address his comrades, “A real samka eh? I bet he even screams like one!” Ike scrunched up his face, unclear on what exactly ‘samka’ meant but not liking the sound of it either way. His displeasure only increased when the tiger made a sudden movement. The yelp that erupted from Ike’s mouth was less than manly and the laughter that erupted from the Russian tiger had the elk blushing angrily. “Just as I thought. You sure you’ve got a pair down there?” He clapped a heavy hand over Ike’s shoulder and shook him a bit. Before the grumpy elk could respond he dragged him off in the direction from which he emerged. “Come, Samka. We have work to do.” “Ah, stuff it yous guys.” Ike huffed and crossed his arms at the giggles that were had at his expense. “Aw Ike, we’re only joshin’.” The golden leopard gave her friend sympathetic pat. She struggled to fight down a smile as Ike glared at her. -------------------------------- Suka- English phonetic spelling of the Russian word for 'b*tch Carogna- Italian for a-hole


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