Tea Time! Generation-X Gossip Tabloid
Issue One: Well Hello, Lover

No, you're not reading wrong, people. Take a moment. Inhale. Exhale. Savor that warm, sweet sweet oxygen as you realize that yes, the moment you have been wishing and wanting for all these years has finally come to fruition. Tea Time is back. Let that sink in.

Though we are certainly not our great-grandmamas, we have that flair, finesse and certain je ne sais quoi that made those articles jump to life off the page, and brought excitement to the crime cities of olde America. Generation after generation we have been asked to bring back what, we can only assume, was our much needed presence in the community. After a long deliberation (years, seriously), we have decided to oblige and give the people what they want: sassy, sweet, snarky fun.

We hope that you are just as excited as we are to bring you our blood, sweat, and sexy asses in the form of:
Tea Time! Gen-X.

Smooches,
CASHMONEYMILLIONAIRE, Zombee and Katniss

Disclaimer: If you are a mobster, within the six crime cities of the United States of MafiaReturns, you may be the subject of one or many of our articles. Alive, dead, mentally impaired, no one is safe from TT:GX! Please forward all comments, questions or concerns to Tea Time Editors, c/o Katniss.
*****

Getting Down and Dirty with Some Hoes
Gardening with a Corrupt Agent
Article by Reporter Black

Black here, coming to you from Connecticut, MA with Donald Mysac a former corrupt agent that worked out of New York City. We're actually sitting in his garden, in the backyard of his private home that he bought with his wife Catherine (who stated I must call her Carey...awkward) after he had retired from the force. The house is beautiful, very colonial and the garden was the majority of the backyard. Why am I gardening you may ask. Well, it's the only way Mr. Mysac would let me interview him. He explained to me that retired life wasn't as relaxing as everyone claimed it would be. Everyone wanted to get a piece of his action or some action of his piece. Either way, the couple was having a very important photo spread in some home, garden and nude publication. So, I agreed to help get some of the garden done, fully clothed, in trade for a private interview.

Black: Mr. Mysac, what made you decide to become a corrupt agent?
Carey called out from the kitchen: He didn't have a choice!
Mr. Mysac waved her off: Don't mind my Carey she doesn't know what she's talking about. I didn't marry that one for her brains. Really, the question should be what didn't make me decide. The decision was easy. Extra money in my front pockets, powerful guys in my back pockets. The helping goes both ways Missy. I may keep the thugs out of jail, but if I ever needed a favor from one of them they always came through.
Black, clearing her throat after being called Missy: Oh, well, that does sound like quite the deal. Do you think that's the reason a lot of the guys on the force go dirty?
Mr. Mysac: I was approached by a friend in my later years. I had completed my days of serving justice for the rich guys up on capitol hill. It was easy for me to play both sides. Some of those young kids just starting out with one main goal of upholding the law, some of them are blackmailed into it. Some of them realize the law is who has the power and switch to the powerful side. Some guys just do it for the greed. Put yourself in our shoes and ask yourself that question, you'll get your answer.
Black: That's a good point sir, but I don't want to put myself in your shoes, I don't think I could handle Carey.
Just then Carey called from the house again: Donald! Reporter! I don't see you working those hoes hard enough!
Mr. Mysac looked down at his gardening tool: If only we were with real ho's. Sometimes I wish I didn't retire. You'd never believe some of the situations I got myself into after going corrupt. The booze, the ladies, hell if it weren't for my dear wife I would have started a life of crime for myself years ago. Carey is just too innocent for those sorts of things.
Black paused for a moment, letting Donald day dream about the good ol' days in brothels and gentlemen clubs for a few seconds and then continued: Do you have any regrets?
Mr. Mysac: There was this girl named Brown Sugar she had a mouth like a...OH! You mean with the agent part. No, no, of course not.

With that, we finished up the interview and the gardening. Catch me next week when I interview some left hands to determine which hand to use on a lonely night.
*****

Los Angeles and Las Vegas
The Misfits of the Nation?
Article by Reporter Pot

It's been nearly three long weeks since the great cities of Los Angeles and Las Vegas have been erased from the boards with nothing but faint memories of good times and bad. Since then, we've seen the uprising of Boston inhabit our streets. I fear that with the way things are going, Boston may fade away just like Las Vegas, Los Angeles, and even further back, Saint Louis.

What is going on within our cities that we can't seem to keep current cities occupied? Many have argued that there wasn't enough time to fill these cities with the perfect candidates. I can recall from times past when blood wasn't even dried from the streets before empty cities would be replaced with new figureheads. What is so different now? Why are the current Godfathers so hesitant to let one of their leaders spread their wings and lead their own cities?

I can only speculate a few scenarios.

One: Our current Godfathers didn't want to let any of the leaders underneath them go because they didn't want to lose strength in their cities. Everyone knows there is strength in numbers, but should that be a potential reason as to why cities can't be filled?

Two: Everyone is content on where they are and who they are working under. This is entirely possible. I mean we've seen the uprising of a couple rogue attempts recently, but not nearly as many as there have been at any given time frame when you have the same leadership for so long. There is safety in security.

Three: At the time of Las Vegas and Los Angeles closing, there were four Godfathers and only two empty cities. Maybe no one could come to an agreement as to who would be given the opportunity to move one of theirs into one of the two slots.

As witnessed around, mixed emotions fill our streets in regards to closing down the two West Coast based cities. Some are trying to place blame on the Godfathers, other are trying to embrace the change and shed some positivity on this decision. We have heard talks about splitting current cities into specific districts to pave the way for future leaders and make room for thugs trying to make a name for themselves.

Many are upset by the fact that their relatives may have inhabited or even held the title of Godfather over one of the two fallen cities, and they just can't wrap their heads around the fact that they are gone. Sure, we might see the reconstruction of these cities in the future, but for the time being they are gone and I don't think that will change any time soon.

Our next best bet is to see what the current leadership has in store for Boston.
*****

Crewleaders - They're Just Like Us!
Hey Bold! Whatchya Up To?

They steal purses from old ladies! A police report was filled by a Miss Gloria Weatherburg in New Orleans after her purse was stolen down on main by a thug in a black ski mask. Rumor on the street it wasn't some thug, but the boldness of WildTurkey. A close friend of the Turkey told Tea Time that he always had a fetish for old woman, especially in the morning.

They eat lunch! Philadelphia bold suit Jaqen_Hghar was seen eating lunch in his hometown last week with a few of his associates. Sources say when dessert was served Mr. Hghar choked on the fruit that was on top of his sundae, but was saved near moments from death by his favorite bodyguard. The bodyguard would not comment on the incident, but we all know he sure did pop Jaqen's cherry.

They have babies! LilacDelaney was spotted walking into a doctor's office downtown New Orleans a few weeks ago with a look of nervousness, but walking out with a smile of utter joy. More recently when Miss Delaney is seen in Chicago one can also see the baby bump she's got as well. Watch out Italian buffets, this crew leader is eating for two!

They cut their own hair! It's not just Lilac's appearance that's changing, Alexander out of New Orleans shot his barber last month in a fit of side burn length rage. Now he's left to cut his own hair and it's quite a sight... or not a sight. Sources say that Alexander has actually demanded that all mirrors in his headquarters be taken down and had a whole renovation of his bedroom as the mirror above his four post bed had to go.
*****

A Day in the Life
Presenting Godfather SammyGarcini
Interview by Reporter Pot

I like people watching, so when the opportunity was presented to get inside a fellow mobsters head and get a grasp on what they do on any given day, I jumped at the chance obviously. I decided to see if I could set the bar high, and aim for a Godfather. I was pleasantly surprised when Godfather SammyGarcini agreed to let me follow him around for the day and ask him a bunch of questions.

I arrived on time for the meeting with the Godfather of New York, the local coffee house was still fairly packed with patrons. It was Five O'clock on the dot. I looked around and spotted the Garcini, poised like a jungle cat, already sitting with what looked like water. I approach him and extend my hand.

"Godfather Garcini, thank you for taking the time out of your busy day to meet with me. I would like to ask you a few questions about what you do in your daily life as the Godfather of New York."

"I don't do interviews," the man said sternly, with a half-cracked smile emerging.

I noticed he wasn't drinking coffee. Why would he agree to meet in a coffee house if he didn't drink coffee? I think he could tell I was staring intently at his water.

"I wouldn't make a cat drink my piss, so why should I drink its?"

"Fair enough, Godfather," I quickly say before picking up my mug, and taking a sip.

Well, that doesn't make it taste any better. Thank you for that, Sir.

Reporter Pot (P): What is your favorite color?
Godfather SammyGarcini (SG): I appreciate blue, however green is the colour of envy. I repeat, the coloUr of envy, so it has to be that.

He sounds to have a slight speech impediment. Poor guy, but I dare not say anything and just brush it off as nervous energy.

P: That would explain the great suit you are wearing. It definitely brings out your eyes.

It was Dark greyish-blue pinstriped suit. It fit him well, he must have a good tailor. Surely he could afford it.

SG: No, I will not take any of it off for you.
P: Thank you, I would appreciate it if you left your clothes on as I'm sure the rest of the patrons here would too.

Crap, I'm going to get myself shot in front of everyone. I hope he doesn't hide the body well.

P: What was the healthiest and unhealthiest thing you ate?
SG: I had an apple, cause I don't wanna be seeing no doctor today. The unhealthiest was a Calzone, cause just, calzone.

I was now thinking about a calzone. So cheesy and delicious.

P: How do you feel about broccoli?
SG: Again, I wouldn't want trees to eat my head, I don't want to eat theirs either.
P: Did you exercise?
SG: I actually do enjoy keeping in shape. I like my shape to be orange like.
P: Once again, thank you for keeping your suit on.
P: What time did you wake up?
SG: Around Noon, that's what's great about this Godfather life, you get other people to do shit for you, so you don't have to do anything.

I couldn't help but think about how great this Godfather life is. How do I get myself a gig like this?

P: Did you make your bed?
SG: What do you think Katniss is for?
P: Interesting point. I wonder if she will make mine too.

The Godfather gently shakes his head in disapproval and lets out a sigh. Is he bored? I'll bet he just wants to get the hell out of here.

P: Where did you spend your day?
SG: In the office, not really doing much, you know.
P: Who did you see or call?
SG: I saw a fair few people, the leaders in New York, Katniss. Actually, I guess I didn't really, social life is a bit slacking at the moment.
P: How did you procrastinate?
SG: I don't procrastinate, I assassinate.
P: What was the best part of the day?
SG: Assassination.
P: You are quite the Orange shaped, intimidating man. Mr. Garcini.

The Garcini listens and brushes off the lapel of his suit.

SG: It's all part of the day's work.
P: What did you accomplish?
SG: I accomplished surviving.
P: That certainly is a day to day accomplishment, if you're worried about the alternative of… not surviving.
P: What did you want to accomplish?
SG: I figure if you aim low, you'll never be disappointed. I fulfilled all my days' goals and more!
P: I can certainly appreciate your excitement, Sir.

This is the first time I've seen him get somewhat excited during the interview. He looks very proud of his answer, and I continue:

P: Favorite time of day?
SG: My favourite, favoUrite, time of the day is probably supper, it's kind of a 'Do whatever you want' time. You can have a breakfast based meal, lunch, or even dinner based. Nobody cares what you do.

Again, with the speech impediment? I definitely don't think its nervous energy. I wonder how he made it to the top with such a disability. But that's something for an entirely different interview.

P: What was the worst part of the day?
SG: Waking up, knowing I had to go and look at Katniss for a few hours. That turbine accident face is just off putting.
P: I don't think anyone would agree with you on that.
P: Any surprises today?
SG: The face had gotten worse. I know, shocking.
P: You sure you're talking about Katniss still? I'm fairly certain I don't hang out with uglies, and I consider her a friend.
P: What did you read?
SG: I don't remember the title, though it was something about some weird event or, game. For some reason it involved all the contestants or challengers to be hungry.
P: That sounds very futuristic.

I can't help but to wonder about the senility of the man I was interviewing.

P: What did you make your right hand do today?
SG: It wrote a few things in the very little paperwork I did. It wasn't happy with it, and I almost lost the argument. I succumbed in the end though.
P: Okay, well this has been fun…

I'm a little worried now and I believe it's time to end this before something crazy happens.

P: Any last words for me?
SG: YOLO.
P: YOLO indeed, Godfather. YOLO indeed.
P: I want to thank you for taking time out of your not-so-busy schedule to take the time to meet with me. The people of Mafia also thank you for your time and dedication to YOLO and this thing of ours.
*****

Tea Time presents... Real Mobsters of Genius
(Real Mobsters of Geeeeeniiiiuuuuuuus!)

Today we salute you, Mr. Random Bodyguard Shooter.
(Mr. Random Bodyguard Shooter!)

You live in a world full of hatred and deceit. Pretending to be a decent crew member, only to serve your own wickedly delicious agenda.
(It's totally delicioussss!)

The second you can, you seize that moment, using stealth as your shield and your posse as your wingmen: popping mobster's bodyguards throughout the night.
(Popping sounds inappropriate!)

Your career is short lived, young ones, but you keep on going because you are making a true difference to the structure of This Thing of Ours.
(It's time to revolutionIIIIIZZZZZZZZEEEEE!)

So have yourself a nice, hot cup of tea, you irresponsible gun-using imbecile. At least when your La Cosa Nostra career options run out, I've heard you have prospects with the decendents of the Kuklinski family.
(Mr. Random Bodyguard Shooooooteeeeeeeeeeeeer!)
*****

Time for Another Experiment!
...Or Time to Stop Being Mad Scientists?
Opinion Piece by Reporter Kettle

Our way of life has such influence across this country, it's hard to believe that our presence is known in such few cities. Whenever a family is slain, or a city decides to join This Thing, a city may sit bare for days, weeks, even months at a time without being touched. Surely the Godfathers of our fair cities are working hard, looking for suitable candidates to take the reigns and make said cities profitable for all of us once more.

Then there are those who decide it's time for an 'experiment'. Throw a bunch of untrained leaders into an area with nothing but a little pluck, ambition, and a weapon. Reminiscent of the Gladiatorial times of old, we allow them to either work together or murder one another mercilessly. Restrictions on headquarter sizes are put in place; only few men and women are granted a small amount of bodyguards. And at the end of the long, hard slough there remains but one victor: the man or woman who, despite it all, manages to 'win' the contest or experiment.

Obviously it is no secret that Detroit just wrapped up it's experiment, with new Godfather Revolve as the victor. With minimal bloodshed, the city managed to cooperate and make something happen that rarely happens in situations like this: a majority of them survived. The dust has barely settled, the winner barely crowned, when already there are people in the streets calling for the next experiment to be placed into the city of Boston.

Where we saw success with Detroit, can we really say the same will happen again with a new city? And why does everything need to be a contest? In the Mafia times of old, people worked hard for their leaders and Godfathers, and after months of selfless acts and shameless deeds like rubbing their Right Hand's feet and cleaning out the bathroom, they were granted the honor of being able to run their own family. Then, if they were lucky, were granted their own city limits.

There were times when experiments and contests were needed, for livelihood and entertainment amongst the cities. They were merely meant to be temporary fixes to situations when many a man and woman were not yet of a prestigious enough rank to be granted the keys to their own headquarters, and therefore the choices on authorizations were slim. Yet we have enough established families and many more established mobsters these days who could do wonders with an empire to call their own.

To those entertaining the ideas of, well, entertainment in the form of a bloodbath, I merely ask you why? Should we not try to move back to a time when the tenets of our very lifestyle meant something? When being granted the honor of a family was not as easy as asking for it? We should respect those that work hard, reward those that work hard, and a family is one of the biggest honors people can receive. I say we put down our junior chemist kits, stop experimenting, and try a more traditional route if we decide to fill the temporary crime city at all.

Barring that, 'Boston Bloodfest' does have a nice ring to it.
*****

Gather 'Round for Tales of Olde
This Week in Mafia History

Generation by generation the world changes around us. Sometimes it is for the good, sometimes it is for the worse. Whatever happens in the here and now is always somehow shaped by our ancestors, and we are forever touched by their contributions to our world, no matter how long ago. So come gather around, smile as you hear the names and events of the past. Maybe your mothers and fathers are featured!

Let's revisit what happened the week of January 11th to January 17th in the history of This Thing.

One Year Ago:
11th- Mobster TheCancerousTumor opens the doors to his family HQ in New Orleans (The Nihilists).
14th- Crew Leader Clarity, head of the Pony Crusade, relocated her family to New York.

Two Years Ago:
14th- Mobster Underdog, former Right Hand to TheDean, is authed into Philadelphia (The Dogg Pound).
14th- Mobster McDermott is authorized to set up HQ in Chicago (The Action League).
16th- New York leader, Marcus, moves to Detroit to shape up the crime city, along with his Captains McDermott and Remus_Lupin.
16th- Leader Marcus assumes position of Godfather of Detroit.
17th- Mobster The_JesTer is authed into Chicago (The JesTer's Court).

Three Years Ago:
11th- The city of Chicago authorizes Bruiser to set up a captaincy.
11th- LilyEvans sets up as a Captaincy in Detroit (The Refined).
*****

Who Runs Chicago?
I Don't Know, Do You?
Article by Reporter Black

"I shot the Squid Master!" Godfather Phil_Steak said when the criminal community saw Godfather Squid Master hit the dirt with a pool of blood seeping from his body. Phil_Steak continued on stating there had been difficulties between the two cities, how the late Squid handled business, and the retirement he was planning and how it didn't sit well. Talks of wars and who got to kill all that hired protection. Sources say each and every bodyguard on Squid's payroll said they were going down with their boss, they'd rather be dead than work for anyone else.

It's understandable that the people of Chicago would like to take a few days to mourn the loss of the man they stood behind or didn't stand behind. The way the conversation progressed after Phil_Steak's speech I'm sure a few are confused to what exactly happened or where the people of Chicago stood for their past Godfather. Either way, a few days have come and gone and still no word from Chicago of who will be taking the reigns and running the ship. Will it be SpaceCowboy, the out of this world wild wild west Don or maybe the prettiest of all flowers LilacDelaney? I'm sure Mudkip will win some cool points for her for being so damn adorable. Because that's really what this is right? A popularity contest. Oh, no, sources say it's not. Anyway, there is also Rayden. Maybe the three bold suits are arguing over who will take over the family business over mead and around the round table like true knights in the dark ages.

This is something Chicago faces. Falling into dark times after. Two paths, one full of light, success, but can only be achieved if the survivors can pick up the pieces and move on positively. Banding together with great joy in their hearts and a passion for crime in their brains. The other path, not so excellent. Much turmoil will fall upon the city if the remaining pack doesn't get their stuff together and give the city some life. This isn't a fortune cookie article, so only time will tell where Chicago will go. In the meantime, it'd be nice for a Chicago representative to come to our streets and let us know of Chicago's goals that may or may not come true, and who is guiding the flaming chariot into the mouth of the beast!
*****

Buy Our Paper
Win Some Cash

Tea Time! Gen-X wants to be as socially conscious as their foremothers were, and one of the biggest things they enjoyed doing was giving back to the community in which they lived. Well ladies and gentlemen, you are our community, so listen up!

Anyone who purchases a copy of our paper (OOC: reads and comments upon it) will be entered into a random drawing for the following week. The prize? $100K! Two winners will be awarded weekly- and one of them could be you! Free money for doing sweet, sweet fuck-all? Have at it!

(And remember to tell us how much you love us. It doesn't hurt. It also doesn't help your chances of winning either.)
*****

SPEAK OUT! Answer Our Surveys
Because We *Love* What You Have to Say

The ladies over at Tea Time! know that the voice of a community can only be as strong as that: the community! Every week we will be featuring three random survey questions over, well, just about any ol' subject in our fair world. As much as we would love to ask each and every single one of you individually what you think, it would help us out a lot if you could take the time to answer the questions for us on your own time! Simply fill out the attached leaflets, and we will do the rest!

Your answers will help us with bringing the freshest perspective of the community to the community in our following issue. And who knows- maybe your famous words themselves will be featured in an article!

So grab your pen, fill in our questionnaires, and we'll take it from there. And as always, thanks for helping to voice your opinion!

Weigh-In on Boston!
Weigh-In on Underground Crews
Weigh-In on Loyalty
*****

Spill the Beans!
Care to Share?

I'm sure many of you wonder what makes a tabloid like this continue to run past a single issue. Well I will tell you how, kids: GOSSIP!

As the title states, we're asking whether or not you all would care to share. Heard anything interesting lately? Is there a Made Man out there worthy of notice? Is someone planning a coup? Did someone kill someone, and only you know about it? We need your gossip!

So, spill the beans! Leave the Editors at TT!GX a note with any information you may have heard, and if it's as newsworthy as we hope it will be, it could become a featured article in our next issue! Everything will be completely, 100% anonymous- all you have to do is pass it on and we'll take it from there.

Well, what are you waiting for? Share *Your* Gossip!
*****

Ladies and gentlemen, we once again thank you for reading our dear publication today. Tea Time! Generation-X is a product of absolutely no hard work, all play, and tons of fucking around the offices. This paper was brought to you by the letters S, E, X, and Y.

As always, any questions, comments or concerns are welcome, and can be sent addressed to the Tea Time Editors, c/o Katniss.

Stegron stretches is creaky bones and lights a cigarette. Taking a long drag he looks at the man in the news stand and says,

Tea time is the only tabloid paper worth reading in this day and age. Kudos to Pot, Kettle, and Black for keeping it real, and getting the juicy dirt that we all want to hear about.

Exhaling the last puff from his smoke, he snuffs the cigarette out under his freshly shined wingtips and walks off.

Deadly was on his normal morning routine, when he noticed something that wasn't normally there - a new newspaper. He was intrigued. He paid for a copy and sat down with his coffee to peruse the articles. When he was done he pulled out a pen and paper and began scribbling a letter to the editors.

Dear Tea Time Editors,

Thank you for your wonderful work - I look forward to the next issue.

~DeadlySin.

After thoroughly reading through his issue of Tea time, Vegeta threw the paper onto the ground. He had to fight the urge to go super saiyan and blow up the entire street corner.

Ahem. While this is an excellently written piece of work, and much more interesting than any paper I have read in a long while, I am a bit disappointed in the lack of name drops in this issue. I recall tea time having something to say about almost everyone.

I am especially disturbed that nothing was said about Dread_Pirate_Pickles' recent string of herpes scares.

yay is all i can say. yay, katniss, simply yay!

Two Years Ago:
14th- Mobster Underdog, former Right Hand to TheDean, is authed into Philadelphia (The Dogg Pound).



Loong time ago ole man....

His lungs rasping out the late-night wheeze of whisky-stained breath, chain smoking so heavily that the embers have not yet faded in the ashtray before the next cigarette takes it's place upon his lips, Kilgore tosses his issue of Tea Time onto his desk. The steady billow of smoke burning his blood-red eyeballs, he threads a sheet of stationary paper through the typewriter and begins to clunk out a letter to the editor in a sporadic rhythm.

Dear Madam and/or Madam and/or Madam,

I picked up your first issue today, on a complete lark. I wasn't expecting much more than a brief distraction from watching the grass grow in my front lawn. However, I must say that it did my soul good to see another well-written editorial grace the newsstands of my not-so-fair city. By god, I believe your newspaper almost tempted me to think.

Concerning the city of Boston- I don't know anybody there, nor do I really care to. From what I've gathered through word of mouth, that place is full of people who aren't really the types I deal with. Quite frankly, I find it quite insulting that many people across this wide open land, seem to think nothing of lowering themselves to the same level as brash street urchins who not only cultivate, but actually cook and I hear sometimes even EAT cabbage.

Also, Benjamin Franklin always struck me as a bit... you know... swishy.

Secondly, in regards to so-called "underground crews", I believe there's always a plausible threat to the standing Families whenever things like these are stirred up. After all, to the law obedient world at large, each and every one of us is operating within shadowy secret clans, and I believe it's pretty fair to say that our Organizations have made a pretty significant impact on the American landscape.

We've lied, cheated, stolen and killed our ways to the top. It's only natural that the process starts anew, from within our ranks. It's the way everyone we work with in our chosen profession comes to be who they are, in some sense or another. If it wasn't you, it was your father, or the man before him. We are what we are, quite simply, and our criminal utopia would be naught, had we not been inclined to knife a person or two in the back here and there.

And finally, the romantic yet agonizing theory of Loyalty. In this business, who you know is everything. It's often not so much a matter of what you can do for yourself, but what you can get others to do for you. If you find yourself in dealings with someone(be they the most powerful businessman in the city, or just Joe around the block) whom you can genuinely respect, that person most certainly is deserving of your Loyalty. A good connection with a sharp brain under his hat and a keen eye for his trade, who you know will come to bat for you when all the chips have hit the table is the best thing one could hope for in this life. If you can confidently stand beside or behind this person whilst pursuing your mutual best interests, then you should be absolutely Loyal. Especially when their returned Loyalty could mean the difference between ribeye and starvation. If you can't bring yourself to pledge Loyalty, then... well, Chuck, then that ain't what you got.

That being said, the one thing a man must always stand Loyal to, without exception, is their own personal principles. After all, we are nothing more than creatures walking this earth. None of the statuses, money or expensive clothes are a real part of our beings or who we are. Everything a man builds in his life is perishable. You could wake up tomorrow and every good thing you have be gone. When that happens, the only thing you'll have is yourself. If you sell your soul for flashy cars and a giant house, when it's gone you'll be nobody. If you can't take pride in the work you do, sister, you've already lost the game. You've got to have a code, and you've got to live by it. You've got to stand up and fight for it. Sure, it might mean butting against the wrong heads from time to time, and it might even dig you a shallow grave in the wood line. But if you stand by what you feel in your soul to be true, then you can live and die knowing that you were a true Man.

If not, then you're just another slimy two-bit weasel, blowing in on the wind and sucking the back fat off of the biggest hog in the yard.

I want to thank you again for the engaging reading material. I also want you to note that your newspaper has also proven quite adequate for lining the bottom of the cockatiel cage. I eagerly await your next printing, so that I can take in more of your insightful columns, and hopefully construct a small papier-mâché crocodile.

Regards,

Kilgore

Reads his copy of the paper,and listens to Vegeta . . . then rolls up his paper and hits Vegeta over the head with it repeatedly and violently!

Whaddya mean this is the best paper you've read in a while?!?  Although I have to agree with you when you say there isn't enough mention of me.

The ladies miss the mirror that was above my bed. More than one has requested its return. I'm rather thrilled the editors of the paper where aware of it too!

Jaqen had bought a copy of the first issue of Tea Time Generation-X, mainly because he'd heard his name had been mentioned, which is always nice despite the fact that he never did anything newsworthy. As he waited for his flight back to Philadelpia, Jaqen read the paper and smiled slightly as he reached the part about himself, he then continued reading the rest, and as he finished was quite content with the first issue. He decided to write the Editors a letter while he was at the airport.

Dearest Editors of Tea Time, Lady CAPS, Humblebee and Starving Girl.

I must say I quite enjoyed reading the first issue, and I do hope you keep them coming. Although I must also inform you that I do not have any favorites when it comes to my bodyguards, sadly that could be quite hazardous for me, if any of them were to become jealous that is, much like our Faceless boys and girls, I have to treat them the same. I'm not sure how you ladies found out about that incident though, but it appears a man does not see all, well done.

Love,
J. H'ghar

After he was done writing the letter, Jaqen got himself an envelope and a stamp at the post office in the airport, as he sealed it and placed the stamp on the envelope, he handed it to one of the ladies at the post office and made his way back to his bodyguards and waited for his plane to arrive.

Lilac chuckled heartily as she put down her copy of the latest news feature to hit the street. She was familiar with two of the brains behind the operation and it pleased her to see them put their talents to paper. As it appeared to be the fashion of the time, she decided to break her own non-conformist ideals by sending a letter to the Editors.

She took a seat at her desk, kicking several empty rum bottles out of the way and cursing Raoul for taking a week off from his naked butler hobby. Pen in hand and Poignant Cigarette in mouth, she set about her business.

My dearest laydee-friends (admittedly one of you, I have yet to encounter, but fear not lovely, it will happen),

I was most delighted to pick up a copy of your paper. It was so fresh, I couldn't help but shove it against my delicate nose and inhale deeply. Beautiful thing. I could almost smell the delicious gossip; it taunted my nostrils and made them twitch, a lot like when you know you're going to sneeze and enter that glorious moment of anticipation.

As I expected, it was a feast for the eyes. My pupils became so engorged with interest that my Mudkip asked if I'd overdone it on the old charlie. I showed him the front page and, well, he spouted everywhere. Completely drenched my new carpet. Such is the case when you have an over-excitable creature on your premises.

Anyway, moving along, there is but one small detail I wish to clarify. Naturally, I don't mind in the slightest if the wider public wish to perceive my swelling belly as the dawn of new life, but alas this is not the case. I have been suffering from a terrible case of moral constipation which has resulted in severe bloating, hence my rounded midriff.

My medical visit that day resulted in some sage advice: ''Morals have never suited you, Miss Delaney. This is the source of your problem. You must immediately detox yourself of all principles and standards and return to being a wanton harlot hell bent on money and navy rum.'' In that moment, I had an epiphany due to this wise man's words. Such is the reason for my euphoric exit; I was on my way to the nearest chapel so that I might ask a priest to show me what was beneath his robes in return for protection and financing. I felt vindicated and reveled in a most welcome return to my former, filthy-minded, absent-of-all-standards self. That evening, I concluded my hedonistic spree by drinking my HQ bar dry and insisting on a game of strip poker. I have retained photographic evidence for potential future blackmail opportunities.

I have now been thoroughly exorcised of all rationale and have a stomach as flat as a pancake. On that note, I will bid you adieu as I have given myself a notion for crepes with cheese and ice-cream.

The kindest of regards,

Miss Lilac Delaney

As always, Lilac kissed the paper, sprayed it with a puff of Chanel and sent one of her bodyguards off to deliver it safely, propelled by a heavy-handed slap on the ass.

Upon casually walking past the Tea Time offices he saw a small boy handing out the newspapers and slowely walked towards him and grabbing one right out of his hand

He walked over to a nearby bench and sat down every time he flicked it over to the next page he suddenly stopped and removed an item of clothing; his hat first; then his jacket; followed then by his tie and then his left shoe was being removed. Vince quickly ran towards the Tea Time offices, barged through the front door and threw the the newspaper that he was using to cover his junk up into the air...

GREAT PAPER, GREAT PAPER, GREAT PAPER LADIES!

As the pages of Tea Time Issue One started to hit the ground Vince had left the building out the backdoor. You heard a shout...

NETTLES, NETTLES, NETTLES AOOWOH

Walking down 34th in Hells Kitchen had been like any other. It was a cold January day and WildTurkey was just moving to make another collection. He turned the corner of Gordon's Pizza when he saw it. In a neat pile in a basket by the door was a stack of Tea Time!'s. The sensation started in his gut, like a Riot! was going on somewhere deep inside his stomach. A tingling sensation began to run down his arms and up his neck, a batch of Renegade nerves firing all at once. WT stumbled to the pile of papers and picked one up. The bright lettering and layout washed over him like a dream. It was when he saw the names of the reporters that his eyes rolled back in a memory, one that had passed though time and blood. Pot, Kettle, and Black.

The beautiful faces of 3 women came to vision. They were Lily, IShotTheSheriff, and Marietta. They came into his mind with such clarity that it was as if he could touch them. He felt close to them, like they had held a thousand conversations before. Faces and times long past blitzed by WT's mind as he sat at the bench next to the stack of papers with his head in his hands. He sat there for a few moments before Typhon tapped him on the shoulder to rouse him. WT straightened his tie and folded his copy of the Tea Time! neatly.

Katniss, CASHMONEY, Zombee,

It is wonderful to see you guys once again working together and producing this glorious piece of work. As in the times of old, you guys still have the touch. This paper is informative, with a true entertaining swing. This is exactly what our community needs as it was back then. Awesome work ladies. I hope that you all choose to continue to write this masterpiece.

As a side note I would like to talk to you about this "anonymous source". I can't have someone giving away all my dirty little secrets. Stealing little old ladies purses are the least of my worries when it comes to my public image. Please contact me.

Keep up the awesome work.

leadfoot finishes his morning coffee, stands up and leaves 2 dollars at the table. He checks his watch and realises he's late for a meeting down town. He folds up the paper that has held him captivated all morning and tucks it under his arm, before stepping to the kerb and hailing a taxi. As he clambers in the back he mutters under his breath

"Nice work ladies"

Vaticus discarded the paper shortly after finishing it, appreciating its refreshing and original style, particularly the way it promoted greater reader interaction (OOC: I especially love the survey idea!).

He spoke quietly, possibly to himself, "What an impressive read!"