April 6th, 2015
?Portatela a me. Portatemi il mio Piccolo Mostro.?
I was being summoned. I came to the bar to deliver a slim manila envelope, the easiest drop there could be. It should be get in, grab a beer, get out. But no, Cane Pazzo wants an audience with me according to one of the two massive goons standing before me. Cane Pazzo, or for you nice ladies and gentlemen out there who don?t understand the Italian language, Mad Dog.
I was escorted into the backroom of the bar. Cane Pazzo was perched on the edge of a pool table rolling an eight ball between his palms, obviously bored and agitated with the thirty seconds goon one and goon two took to collect me. Despite the radiating rage that clung to Cane Pazzo, calling him a dog wouldn't have been my first choice. He was much younger than most of the bosses I came in contact with. He had inherited the position from his bedridden Father and he worked double time to prove to both him and the soldiers that this is where he belonged. He was tall, dark, handsome, Italian. It was his sadistic streak and short fuse that made him ugly from the inside out, wrapped in a fine custom suit and Santoni shoes.
?Piccolo Mostro, ci sei tu. Perch? non sei tornato per dire ciao a me? Questo non ? buono per gli affari.? His voice was like acid laced honey and already I knew I was in trouble, there was no way out of it. It wasn't so much that I did anything wrong today, but it was standard for him to keep me on my toes. To remind me who?s boss. Unfortunately, I needed constant reminders.
?Cane Pazzo, for someone so bright I feel like we have the same discussion every time I see you. I am an abomination. I am a disgrace to my mother?s womb. I am the reason my Father can?t walk with his head held high. I am a tragic soul who does not speak Italian. Could you translate?? The goons were already looming closer to me, but I wouldn't let them see me sweat. I kept my eyes on the devil sitting before me.
?I don?t see how such a lovely woman could ruin herself by not learning the tongue of her people. I have told you time and time again I would teach you. Don?t you want to better yourself, Piccolo Mostro? Don?t you want to rise above your current station in life??
?But Cane Pazzo, if I were to rise above all the dirt and garbage that RhyDin has to offer, it means we wouldn?t be able to have these lovely heart to hearts.? I smiled at him. It was not friendly or sweet. Instead it showed him exactly what I thought of his offer to better me. I was a worm of the underbelly and he was no more than a bird stuck in the mud along with me. A higher station but still stuck.
?Portatela a me. Portatemi il mio Piccolo Mostro.?
I was being summoned. I came to the bar to deliver a slim manila envelope, the easiest drop there could be. It should be get in, grab a beer, get out. But no, Cane Pazzo wants an audience with me according to one of the two massive goons standing before me. Cane Pazzo, or for you nice ladies and gentlemen out there who don?t understand the Italian language, Mad Dog.
I was escorted into the backroom of the bar. Cane Pazzo was perched on the edge of a pool table rolling an eight ball between his palms, obviously bored and agitated with the thirty seconds goon one and goon two took to collect me. Despite the radiating rage that clung to Cane Pazzo, calling him a dog wouldn't have been my first choice. He was much younger than most of the bosses I came in contact with. He had inherited the position from his bedridden Father and he worked double time to prove to both him and the soldiers that this is where he belonged. He was tall, dark, handsome, Italian. It was his sadistic streak and short fuse that made him ugly from the inside out, wrapped in a fine custom suit and Santoni shoes.
?Piccolo Mostro, ci sei tu. Perch? non sei tornato per dire ciao a me? Questo non ? buono per gli affari.? His voice was like acid laced honey and already I knew I was in trouble, there was no way out of it. It wasn't so much that I did anything wrong today, but it was standard for him to keep me on my toes. To remind me who?s boss. Unfortunately, I needed constant reminders.
?Cane Pazzo, for someone so bright I feel like we have the same discussion every time I see you. I am an abomination. I am a disgrace to my mother?s womb. I am the reason my Father can?t walk with his head held high. I am a tragic soul who does not speak Italian. Could you translate?? The goons were already looming closer to me, but I wouldn't let them see me sweat. I kept my eyes on the devil sitting before me.
?I don?t see how such a lovely woman could ruin herself by not learning the tongue of her people. I have told you time and time again I would teach you. Don?t you want to better yourself, Piccolo Mostro? Don?t you want to rise above your current station in life??
?But Cane Pazzo, if I were to rise above all the dirt and garbage that RhyDin has to offer, it means we wouldn?t be able to have these lovely heart to hearts.? I smiled at him. It was not friendly or sweet. Instead it showed him exactly what I thought of his offer to better me. I was a worm of the underbelly and he was no more than a bird stuck in the mud along with me. A higher station but still stuck.