This weekend I am reposting my three part series, Frostbite: A Mafia Family Christmas, about the Kaszinov Family(portions rewritten).

I had fun last year imagining what it would be like to celebrate Christmas in a Russian Mafia family, well, at least a goofy one. These posts were my first #FridayFlash-es.

This is Part 3 of 3 in a series, if you haven’t read the beginning, you can read Part 1 and Part 2.

Kaszinov Family Crest

Tasha watched with anticipation as Aunt Urola’s lavish jewel necklaces were finally removed from her aunts’ necks. Now, they were all wore hot blisters and bumpy rashes seared by the poison laced in each string. The red flush of their faces matched their flaring tempers. The men blistered inside and out after removing the necklaces and placing them in a bag for decontamination. The aroma of the room changed from Christmas tree pine to antiseptic and ointment. The afternoon hors d’oeuvres were antihistamines and whiskey served up with curses to Aunt Urola.

The chaos distracted the entire family as Tasha quietly slipped in and out of the house unnoticed. Until, Mama caught her. “Tasha! Where are you going with all that!”

“Ah…are the women feeling better?” Tasha suddenly stopped in her tracks.

“You heard me, what are you doing?” Mama wasn’t budging.

“I thought the Boys needed a little Christmas cheer, too. It must be gloomy living in those rooms above the garage.” Tasha shifted the weight of the bags in her arms.

“You know we built luxury apartments for those thugs. You stay in here and don’t go near those cutthroat butchers!”

Tasha put everything down on the kitchen table. Mama, half-drunk, strutted back into the living room screaming, “Use those coasters, damn it!”

Tasha continued on her way creeping out of the house carrying small bags.  A couple of the Boys were proving to be helpful. Tasha quickly targeted the disgruntled ones Papa had burned one too many times.

Later that evening, Tasha walked quietly into the living room where everyone was getting loud and obnoxious from all the booze. The men were smoking and carousing by the fireplace. The women were making no sense in their conversations. Insults were flying, but they responded with laughter.

No one noticed when Tasha took over as bartender.   She opened five bottles of their best wine which cost over $1,000 a bottle. She poured each bottle into a carafe, swirling it carefully, adding a little something of her own.  She set the bottles on the bar next to each carafe. It was a display of irresistible decadent splendor no greedy mobster could resist.

“Hey Ermil, come see this, he’s finally brought out the good stuff!”

Tasha’s aunts and uncles, Mama and Papa gathered around the bar to celebrate one last time.

Tasha smiled and walked away from the bar, and she watched as each of her relatives took a drink and sat down in their respective places. Next, she enjoyed the wonderful scene. Conversations slurred, glasses dropped to the floor, heads bobbed suddenly sideways and forward.

Tasha quickly ran upstairs to gather the children from their play time with the many Christmas presents they had received. They came bounding into the living room where the adults were drooped. They ignored the adults and followed Tasha and her plate of cookies.

“Come sit by the fire for a special Christmas poem I wrote just for you!” Tasha said, as she watched their eager faces become quiet as they sat down and munched at their cookies.

‘Twas the Night Before Christmas in my Mafia Family

‘Twas the night before Christmas
when all through the house,
A foul creature was stirring
and so was a louse.

Tommy guns were hung
by the chimney with care,
In hopes that rogue mobsters
soon would be there.

The children were restless
tossing in bed,
While visions of mob fights
danced in their head.

When out in the snow
there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed
to see what was the matter.

When, what to my wondering eyes
should appear,
A dead body in the snow,
now frozen. “Oh, Dear!”

Aunt Urola lay stiff
in this murderous scene,
But she’s not the only
cold-blooded ice queen.

The guilty told stories
to explain how she died,
But they didn’t make sense
it was clear that they lied.

Homicidal maniacs
will not get away,
For their trigger-happy fun
in prison they will stay.

I’m afraid that our family
will not shed a tear,
For the terror inflicted
or for the deadly fear.

I’ll take their presents and jewels
to fund my mission,
Just wait and see how much more
they’ll be missin’!

My family is in deep,
So I put them to sleep,
Run! Quick! Without a peep,
To the helicopter, “take a leap!”

Safely we will fly
while they take the fall,
Now dash away, dash away,
dash away all!

The children will now have
a brand new fresh start,
And be given the chance
to grow a kind heart.

‘Tis the end of my story,
hope I gave you a fright.
Merry Christmas to all, and to
all a good night!