In Part 1, Cassidy saved Rusty the janitor's job and was pumped to go home for the holidays.

In Part 2, Cassidy was digusted by his family's lack of Christmas spirit.

Christmas in Boston. 

Pat Cassidy, angrily making his way through the South Boston neighborhood from whence he came, has a lot of options. He could head downtown for the Seaport Holiday Tree. Do a little ice skating at the Boston Commons. He could even go old school and throw some rocks onto the Mass Pike.

And yet, as he angrily sloggs through the slush of freshly fallen snow, Cassidy knows he had his eyes set on only one destination. 

The place he first snuck into at age fifteen.
The place where he learned how to read people.
The place where he learned how to make friends.
The place responsible for more romantic… connections than any other.

Fitzy’s.

See, Cassidy knows what a lot of people think about him. That he’s a borderline drunk, maybe a functional alcoholic, because you can always find him in a bar. And sure, don’t get him wrong… the sauce does have a habit of making a humdrum night just a little extra fun. It does have that going for it.

But the fact is, bars exist purely to facilitate human connection. Through games. Through sports. Through the atmosphere. In what other setting could you sing your heart out, whether you’re any good or not, unashamedly free? Where else can former feuds be brought to an end with a well-timed drink and a pat on the shoulder? What other hang-out spot is part sports stadium, house party, diner, talent show, mental asylum, boxing ring, dating website, and psychiatrists office?

The fact is, Cassidy doesn’t love bars purely because he loves to get drunk. Cassidy loves bars because they’re the one of the only places that he’s allowed to be unabashedly him. 

With these holiday musings shifting throuhg his head, Cassidy’s mood brightens slightly. Sure, his family may have shit the bed on Christmas, but he can already picture the scene he was going to find when he opened the doors to his favorite watering hole: the Christmas tree up, the lights strung around the bar, and thirty-two versions of “Little Drummer Boy” ready to go on the jukebox. 

Most of all, he’d see all his childhood friends. The old gang. It was the people that made home HOME, after all. He’d lived in New Orleans since early in the summer, and it had been a while since he’d been back. The more he thought about it, the more he felt his spirits lift. With a spring in his step, he rounded the block, ready to look upon his home-away-of-home…

CLOSED, read the sign.

Cassidy stood, staring at that sign for a long time. The cars whizzing by him on the street might have thought something was a little off with this guy, staring blankly and still donning his santa hat and Christmas sweater, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. CLOSED. Not only today, on Christmas, but by the looks of it… this place had been closed for a while. 

Running his hands through his hair, he resisted the urge to punch something. His last hope for a semi-decent Christmas… the place that has more-or-less raised him… sitting here like an empty tomb. 

The final death blow to what once had been his Christmas spirit. 

In times like this, there was only one place to turn.

Several Hours Later…

Siobhan Cassidy, dressed in full winter coat, hat, and boots, walks up the The Bamboo House - her family’s favorite Chinese restaurant. The Cassidy Clan had decided to go with an old standby for Christmas dinner - someplace that they knew would be open. 

She opens the door, enjoying the comparative warmth of the restaurant to the bitter cold outside. She’d been coming here since she was a little girl, so she had the layout memorized - except for one new addition: her brother Pat, still wearing his Christmas sweater and santa hat - sitting at the bar, surrounded by small plates of various types of Chinese food, and clearly about four Scorpion Bowls deep. 

Sighing, Siobhan sidles up to the bar and takes a seat next to her older brother. She politely waves away an offer by an employee for a menu. Cassidy gives her a glance, and then resumes signing along with the song playing throughout the restaurant - “The Little Drummer Boy.” For funsies, he improvs his own lyrics.

Cassidy (singing):
Come they tolllllld me
Pa rum pum pum, pum.

Come eat our Chinese
Pa rum pum pum, pum.

Your family sure does stink
Pa rum pum pum, pum.

So Scorpion Bowls you’ll drink
PA RUM PUM PUM PUM!

Siobhan holds up a hand over her brother’s mouth.

Siobhan:
Oh my God, enough. 

She removes her hand, and Cassidy smiles.

Cassidy:
If you're going to stay, you’d better like Little Drummer Boy, cause there’s like fifty-seven versions and I’ve requested them all.

Siobhan fires off a quick text, and then reverts her attention back to her brother.

Siobhan:
I’m here to pick up some food. Why don’t you come home with me?

Cassidy laughs bitterly.

Cassidy:
Oh yeah. To the land that Christmas forgot. No thanks. I’d rather stay here surrounded by new friends.

Cassidy pumps a fist up and the few employees in the Chinese restaurant cheer. The man behind the bar approaches Cassidy eagerly.

Restaurant Worker:
Another Scorpion Bowl, Mr. Black Out?

Cassidy:
Keep ‘em coming, Regienald! 

Siobhan sighs, standing up from the bar.

Siobhan:
Fine. Have it your way. But it would be nice to have you, you know? You’re not the only person upset that nobody is coming. 

Cassidy doesn’t look at Siobhan, but raises an inquisitive eyebrow anyway.

Siobhan:
It’s true. Why do you think Mom isn’t cooking or Dad’s just sitting in that chair scrolling through his phone? They're upset. We (pointing first to herself, and then to Pat) were all they had, and then you bailed.

Cassidy suddenly has an intense staring contest with his empty scorpion bowl.

Siobhan:
And like, I know why you’re really all pissed off. It’s not just cause you’re a super dork for Christmas or because the tree sucks or whatever. It’s because this is the first Christmas you’ve finally got your shit together and you won’t have to sit around the table with a lawyer, cop, and teacher and feel like the total screw-up. I mean, you’re on TV, for God’s sake. I bet you wanted that to be talked about at the Christmas table. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn't come home and eat dinner with your parents.

Cassidy turns to face his little sister. Raising an eyebrow.

Cassidy:
When you did you get so smart?

Siobhan smiles.

Siobhan:
Look, it’s not too late. There’s still some Christmas left. Come home with me and let’s pretend that we know how to use chopsticks like we did when we were kids. You can do your walrus impression. 

Cassidy lets out a tiny burp. He rubs his chin thoughtfull, surprised at his little sister taking him to school like that. He smiles - almost proud.

Cassidy:
I’ll come home… but you have to do one thing for me. First, you and I have to celebrate Christmas my way.

Siobhan eyeballs the four empty Scorpion Bowls.

Siobhan:
... I think you already did that.

Cassidy:
No, no, no… follow me…

Cassidy stands, and we fade to…

10 Minutes Later…

The sun was just beginning to flirt with the idea of setting as Pat Cassidy, Siobhan Cassidy, and five Bamboo House employees stood on the roof of the Chinese food restaurant, looking off toward the Boston skyline. In their hands, sheets of paper with lyrics written on them.

Cassidy:(shivering)
Let’s do this now. It’s freezing out here.

Siobhan:
Wow. Half a year in New Orleans and you’ve become a little bitch.

Cassidy:
It’s a SWAMP, Siobhan. Do you have any idea how hot it gets in the summer? You’ll find out. Anyway…

Cassidy turns to the Chinese food waiters.

Cassidy:
Ready, boys?

They nod in the affirmative. 

Cassidy:
And a one… and a two… and a one, two…

Pat, Siobhan, and their backup singers break into “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas.” While bursting into song, it’s clear that Siobhan is a Cassidy through-and-through. Pat puts her up around her as they continue their carol, and we fade out on this warm Christmas scene with the Cassidys.

MERRY CHRISTMAS FROM THE CASSIDYS!

More Propaganda | View "Black Out" Pat Cassidy's Biography