SAINT RAYMOND VECCHIO OF THE CHICAGO P.D.

by Renny Ramos

No no no no nooooo! Not again not again not again not the worm not the worm not the ... Oh boy oh boy oh boy oh boy.

Detective First Grade Raymond Vecchio of the Chicago P.D., you certainly are a First Grade Idiot.

You could be lounging around in your warm, toasty home right now, getting bloated over eggnog and Ma's lasagna until your stomach begs for mercy; but nooooo! You had to make like a Saint and haul your freezing butt over to this rat villa of an apartment.

Saint Raymond, Patron Saint of Mounties without a social life. Yeah.

Stop being such an ass, Vecchio. It's the first ever party he's hosting; the least you could do is show up, give him some moral support. You're his best friend, for Pete's sake!

Party? If he wanted a party, I'll take him home and give him a party!

Not THAT kind of party, Vecchio.

Oh, boy. The worm is swirling. The worm is swirling around in my shot glass. Ohhhhh, I think I'm going to be sick.

"He-he. Mr. Vecchio looks like he's going to faint. Poor chicken."

Fine. He-he yourself, Mustafi. Try having a heaping serving of worm sushi one time and tell me you won't barf at the sight of their tequila-based relative.

"Ray ..."

Don't look into those eyes or you'll get suckered ... don't ... don't ... agh! Too late.

You never could resist looking at those Baby Blues, Vecchio. That's what gets you into trouble ...

"Perhaps it would be easier for you if I helped eat your worm?"

Eat my ... worm.

You. Eating my ...

"Is it hot in here or what?"

"It's just the tequila, Ray. So, do you want me to or not?"

"What?"

"Eat your worm. After all, I have the experience in eating such, ah, creatures; I wouldn't mind at all."

Eat my ...? You wouldn't mind ...?

I think I need a drink.

"Gimme that glass!"

** GULP! **

*************************

Spin the bottle.

You're in your thirties and balding and you're playing spin the tequila bottle.

You really are a saint, Vecchio.

Especially if and when you get to kiss that lady across you. Ugh.

Stop whining; she's not that bad.

But I want Benny!

Spin, spin, spin, smooch, smooch, smooch, bored, bored, bored.

Okay, it's spinning again can I go home no ... oh. OH.

"Oh, here's Fraser!"

"Come on everybody, make room for him."

And you sit ... right across me.

Hope hope hope ho ...

The bottle's spinning ... Yes yes yes awwww no no no yes yes? YES? Yes! YESSSSSSSS!

"Now, this is a first ..."

"Fraser gets to kiss Ray!"

Your breath is warm and laced with liquor and your lips are soft as they descend briefly upon my cheek ... oh, don't faint don't faint don't faint ...

"Hey, no fair! It's gotta be more than that!"

You tell the Mountie, bud!

"But ..."

"Hey, fair is fair. We all smooched everybody else; why shouldn't you?"

"Oh ... oh, dear."

"Are you okay with this, Ray?"

Just shut up and kiss me until your lips fall off.

"Yeah ... sure. Fair is fair. It's just a kiss; no biggie."

Not!

You bring your hand against the back of my head and you pull me close and I see those Baby Blues close and I see your mouth open slightly and I feel your lips against mine and all I could feel are warmth and heat and your tongue ...

Thank you, Santa!

And the room bursts into laughter and yells and screaming and my ears are ringing and my heart is pounding but I sure as hell don't care ...

For this, I'll be a saint ANYTIME.

- The End -

25 December 1998