Drunky sat in his local bar, hidden away from the g-men that would take away his liquor if they had the chance. He was, as always, heavily intoxicated and rambling. Teetotalers, dries, assholes… Whatever word you use for them, I say we ship them all off to Panama to widen that ole ditch down there. Give’m an honest day’s work and see how long they last without a beer! 

Waitaminyert. I’ve got something I need to be doing. Headquarters? Yeah, that’s the one. Where did I put that key?

JakeLuciano had called the alcoholic in to his private office a few hours ago and explained that he was being kicked out. “Drunky, I think it’s time you had a place of your own. Time to stop crashing on my sofa and vomiting on the floor.” He had said.  

Oh, sure, Jake had also dressed it up nicely. “You can start your own crew out of this warehouse I’ve bought for you, while you’re at it.” Jake said, and then handed a set of keys. 

Fuck. Where are those keys? I bet that damned penguin stole them. I haven’t seen him in days. I bet he’s hiding in my own warehouse locking me out. Damn you penguin, foiling my plans again! 

Drunky looked around the floor of his private booth at his favorite bar, but had no luck. No keys. He did, however, come up with a brilliant idea.

Hey, Stu? What’d it cost me to buy this place from ya? Drunky was pretty sure the owner/bartender’s name was Stu. Stu was, after all, the best name for a bartender. He could never trust a bartender named John or Sil. That type is up to no good.  

You silly drunk, you can’t even pay your tab. But if you could scrounge that up plus, oh, $13 million, you might entice me to sell. I’d be happy if you just caught up last month’s bill at this point. The bartender spat the number out at the drunk like a punch line. 

Well, Stu, it’s your lucky day. I know this place has an apartment up top and plenty of room to spread out into, and I was just evicted. So here ya go. The drunk hands him a briefcase. Thirteen and change. Close my tab and get me a drink that I don’t have to pay for, Stu. I hope you weren’t planning on retiring until the end of your shift.

Some guys in the front of the bar who witnessed this exchange stare incredulously. One of them has the bright idea to shout “Speech!” and the rest of them join the refrain. Before long, the clamber is so loud that the alcoholic has to set down his highball, stand up on top of a barstool, realize that’s a bad idea and stand up on the bar instead, and then deliver an oration.

Well, first of all, I guess you all can consider yerselves hired as part of this here crew. I’ma need some guys to pull in booze to keep my doors open now. There are cheers from the front; most of the men frequenting this establishment were out of work and out of luck.

Secondly, I’ma run a tight ship. I’m an old tradishunlist guy, and I’ll expect all yall to uphold the old standards of decency and respect. We’re running a criminal operation here, not running about like hoodlums.

Thirdly, if anyone tries to lay a hand on my booze, my crew, or my speakeasy… They’d better be ready to lay a hand on me too, ‘cuz this here operation’s only going to work as long as I got some helping hands.

Finally, I’ma keep the name “The Speakeasy” for publicity sakes. Everyone oughta know what kind of bizniss we’re running. But when yall talk on the phones, and think the wrong sorts might be listening, we gots ourselves a code word too. We’ll be calling this here Speakeasy “Operation VMLTBDD” which, if you say it fast, sounds kinda like “veemul-tub-deed.” I like the ring of that. Except that tub part in there. I’ve always thought bathtubs to be one of the uglier, more useless fixtures in a house. Who needs one when just a shower would take up a third as much space? Huge, massive wastes of space. Anyway, that’s our code name and I think it’s pretty great despite the tub part. And you can use any of those to describe this place. The Speakeasy, Operation VMLTBDD, or veemul-tub-deed. Just be careful. Those damn teetotalers are going to try to shut us down!

With that, the drunk gets off the top of the bar and heads to the nearest payphone. Hopefully Jake won’t be too mad that he spent $13,934,990 buying this place instead of restoring the old warehouse Jake had picked out. This one is more Drunky’s style, anyway.

Maple had followed Drunky, or Frank she now supposed she could address him as. She was quite curious why he was not heading back to the building Jake had given him. She watched the events unfold and couldn't help but laugh to herself, "whatever keeps him out of Jake's office and off his couches will make us all happy". 

Frank! I guess you didn't see me sipping my beer over in the corner did you? Nice place you have here. It's just the thing you need. Although is there a couch in the back room? I am sure you will need more than one during your time here. Maple handed her friend a piece of paper. Since we won't be using the cleaning lady much anymore, I thought you might want her contact information. You might as well keep this place in good shape if you plan on running an operation out of here.

Anyways old friend, congratulations. Come back and visit from time to time. But I think it best if we come visit you here.

Maple finished her drink and left Drunky to get to work or drinking.

​Ragnar was sitting in a quiet speakeasy drinking Absolut vodka when some drunkard started yelling at the bartender. He looks over and realises it's Frank affectionately known in the Suburbs as Drunky, after some slurred discourse and Drunky getting the bar in an uproar things started to settle down and Ragnar approached Drunky.

Well it seems congratulations are in order my old friend. Seeing as you own the joint now I think you should get a round in for everyone.

After shooting rats all day bip stumbles down the road exhausted only to look inside the window and find the Drunk man toasting for his newest new place. She looks around surprised feeling stupid. Then the anger set in. Here she had done everything in order to help the newest auth in the Suburbs to get his place in order. Muttering some words for herself she storms inside.

Seriously?! I demand a free drink...

Resting his back against the doorway he stood sipping his bourbon, the light nip taking the edge of the cold night air.  He watched the world go by as he smiled only pausing from drinking to twist his neck and shrug his shoulder.

"Is a mighty fine establishment, a bit more polish, a new door, will look great and of course, more alcohol."

waving the punters in he quickly slid into a corner to continue drinking the night and day and next night away.