''Oh please! I don't know anything!'' The grape vine's face contorted with anguish. A husky voice came from the shadows of the factory walls. ''Pluck another one off the vine. '' One of
the muscular tenderloins grinned broadly and advanced on the bound captive. He flexed his hands menacingly and with one swift motion he plucked off another one of the grape vine's precious fruits.
The grape vine let out a little whine as another part of his body was viciously torn off.
The figure stepped out of the shadows, each footstep making an eyrie echo in the abandoned factory. He stopped in front of the prisoner and took a switchblade from his jacket, flipping it open as the grape vine's eyes widened in terror. With the care of a lover he gently caressed the grape vine as he whispered softly, ''Just tell me where my money is, and I can make this all go away.'' He ran the blade over the grape's skin making the grape vine involuntarily shudder as he hurriedly said, ''I don't know anything about your money or whatever, man. Please, I have a family. Let me go. I promise I won't tell anyone through the grapevine, or anyone for that matter.''
The figure looked hard into the grape vine's eyes and asked, quite monotonously, ''Do you know who I am?'' The grape vine could only stare back, paralyzed in both fear and pain. ''I'm Tony. The meanest steak on the east side. Now I'm not asking for anything other than my property. All you have to do is tell me where it is.'' Tony suddenly kicked at the chair, toppling the captive over, while Tony shouted, ''WHERE IS MY MONEY? YOU DRIED UP SON OF A RAISIN! I'LL MAKE YOU TALK!'' He snapped his fingers and one of his lackeys, a New York cut, appeared at his side.
''Get him up.'' The lackey pulled the grape vine's chair to an upright position without much difficulty. Tony spun around to face his victim with the switchblade glittering in his right hand. He grabbed one of the grape vine's fruits and placed the tip of the blade on the fruit peel. The grape vine saw what he was going to do and screamed in protest. He tried to squirm away from Tony, but his attempts were quite fruitless. The sharp switchblade peeled back the grape's skin causing juice to flow from the open wounds.
''ALRIGHT MAN, I'LL TELL YOU! SYLVESTER THE OYSTER HAS IT! I DON'T KNOW WHERE! JUST STOP! PLEASE!'' Tony grinned and took the grape's peel, placing it back on the grape. ''Now, that wasn't so hard. Was it? I just wish you were honest in the first place. We could have avoided this messy ending.'' Tony grabbed the switchblade and stabbed the grape vine through the heart. As the grape vine lay dying, his last words sputtered from his mouth, ''You son of a...''
Tony walked away, cleaning his switchblade with a pocket handkerchief. He never even looked back without a hint of remorse. This is why you never mess with Tony, the meanest cut of steak from the east coast.
© Copyright 2016 Verex. All rights reserved.
Poem / Poetry
Short Story / Flash Fiction
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