So santa was nice as always this year. Also very practical. I have paint - for my kitchen if I ever get the crap thats currently on the walls off. Just spent 2 hours fighting some of it and am knackered. Theres like 6 layers of paint on top of the paper cause who was in before me couldn't be bothered to remove anything. They just painted over it instead.
My sister also got me some other bits for the kitchen. My brother got me a digital photoframe. He says theres some pics already loaded on it but I have not had chance to plug it in and look at them yet.
Mum got me a speaking roland rat mug. Prize for the most unique gift this year Mother lol. Got some funky slippers and tarot cards. I will have to have some meditation sessions and have a go at those. I actually got to speak to mum and dad in oz on xmas day. I must admit I am missing them. Gran came for dinner with me and my sister. She was in a incredibly grumpy mood.
Then in the afternoon we went up to see my brother and clan. I tryed to teach Sophie the first 3 lessions in the how to play keyboard book I got her. Shes promised to practice every day this week - I said I would show her lesson 4 but I suspect she won't have looked at it since. Who knows!
I have watched alot of good tv over the last couple of days - Dirty Dancing, Doc Hollywood, Miracle on 34th Street. Two miniseries - Earthsea and the Sword of Xanten which suprisingly featured a pre-twilight & HP fame robert pattinson. Based on norse myths. Apparently it was really huge in germany. I liked it though.
Got home and wrote some more gangster story. This is what I have so far. Im would love some comments but as no one ever seems to comment . . .. . *sulks*. Please comment!!!!!!!
America in the 20’s. What an era. We had it all, bootleg liqueur, speakeasies, gangs, drugs, weapons and the broads. America was taking off; more specifically Chicago was taking off. And it was in Chicago that I made one of the stupidest mistakes I could make. I tried to rob Fat Francis “Frank” Galdofini.
You see I made the mistake of thinking he was just a small fry. When I passed through Chicago the Irish ruled. More specifically Gabriel Fitzgerald had control of that town. I should have done my homework. Fat Frank had just come back from a stint in Sing Sing. He was pissed and he was rebuilding the Italians territory back after Fitzgerald stitched him up.
So there you have it and there I was having my guts punched out of me
Fat Frank was the epitome of calm when he walked into the room his goons were holding me. That put the fear of god through me. An angry Italian who was quiet was far far more dangerous than one shouting the odds.
He took a seat, hauling his broad frame into the chair behind the desk. The chair creaked. At first he said nothing, just taking sips from a drink and watching the other two men throw punch after punch at me. It was only when a large amount of my blood dropped on his wooden floors that he nodded his head and suddenly I was forced down on my knees.
Then Fat Frank leaned forward. “Perhaps,” he said finally, “I should have them rompere i coglioni a qualcuno.” (Break someone’s testicles – will need jacs mate to do correct translation)
Now I knew enough Italian slang to know that was . . . . not nice and definitely not something I wanted to experience. I also knew enough about mobsters to know that if they made a threat they normally followed through. So despite the excruciating pain I was already in, I mentally prepared for the worst.
Strangely though it didn’t happen. The big man instead sipped his drink one more time before adding,
“Or perhaps I should arrange for you two minchione (fools) to be broken instead for letting him get past you,”
Now this was a turn up for the books.
“But boss, we got him,”
Finally I saw some of that Italian fire. He stood up and threw the drink at goon number 1. “But he almost got away with,” the man picked up the pile of notes I had come close to scoring, shook the pile wildly and then threw everything off the desk. “Everything in my safe.”
A long silence passed, the men holding me clearly as worried about their private regions as I was at that point.
“Pick that up, all up and get the “scientist.” I want that safe repaired, the money back in it and I want it sorted yesterday. Kapesh.”
“Yes boss,” both men said in unison dropping to their knees in front of me as the big man settled into his seat once more.
“Oh and I want that blood off my office floor,” he demanded.
“I should kill you,” Fat Frank stated after another long silence in which both goons were frantically picking up money. He seemed now as calm as he was when he walked in at the beginning. This time however, he pulled a piece out of his suit jacket. As if I needed the point to be put across any further.
I said nothing. I was just as stubborn as I was stupid. And if this was where I was going out, I wasn’t begging for my life.
“However,” he placed the gun on the desk. “I could use a man with you’re . . . . “Talents”. So instead, I am going to give you the opportunity to “work” for me.”
Regardless to say, I didn’t need to think twice about what the answer to that one was.