Felix

Warmth. Blinding light. Then fear.

This is my first memory, the moment after I'd been born. My parents tricked the mafia. They caught up with us there, in the hospital. My mother was gunned down and the mafioso grabbed me by the umbilical cord, whispering in my ear:

"Don't mess with us, kid, or you'll wish you'd never been born."

Since then, I've made it my sworn duty to mess with them as best I can. Whoopee cushions and toothpaste instead of the normal Oreo filling. I even did the ol' hang-the-water-bucket-on-top-of-the-slightly-ajar-door trick.

And I was damn good at it, too. Seventeen years, never been caught.

This is my story.