Maple took one of the cigarettes Frank was handing out, put it to her mouth and lit it. She took a nice long drag before looking the man over. She had been trying for days to find Frank, searching in every park and dumpster she came across. Why she continued to worry about his well being was beyond her. He was a grown man after all and seemingly could get himself home every once in awhile. Maple would not say he could look after himself since he smelled completely atrocious and looked like he had been dragged through a meat slicer a few time but he always found his way home. She had been listening to his conversations as he walked towards her and she thought about what he had said.

Frank nice to see you again, I had been wondering where you were and what you had been up to but I don’t think I actually want to know. Anyways back on the topic you were just rambling about. I agree that many of our people here in the Suburbs are passionate about things and have a right to voice those opinions. I have however seen many a discussion degrade into nothing more than school yard banter. The conversation you might be referring to, I will not comment on in particular. However we do have to remember who we are and what we are a part of.

No one can expect people to agree all the time. Hell you and I don’t agree all the time. However there are ways to carry on discussions even arguments without being completely disrespectful and downright childish. I hope your men and all the members of our district feel free to voice their opinions even if they are in disagreement with others. But I also hope they know the difference between being respectful with their words and actions and being total jerks, making us all look bad.

Maple wondered if Frank had heard a word she said. He seemed to be only half there but she knew from past experiences he could listen even when his head was pounding and full of fog. She opened her purse and handed the man a bar of soap before winking and walking away.

Frank puffs a few puffs from his everlasting cigarette and ponders what Maple has said. This takes a surprisingly long time, given the man's state of mind. Through the foggy haze of his opiate/alcohol detox, a further bit of insight comes to him.

It seems to me that any really "meaty" discussion on the streets is bound to stir up some passions. When that happens, a red blooded American man might let some things slip that he wouldn't at his wife's dinner party. I look around and I see a bunch of tough guys, a bunch of wise guys. We're surrounded by Friends of Ours that know how to take a few verbal licks and dish it right back.

So why should I care too much if that's what happens? If some of my guys go out and have a spirited discussion, but they aren't offended enough by it to bring it to my attention personally, what's it to me? Sure, someone looking in on the discussion from afar might wonder what got everyone so worked up. That happens to me a lot, especially once I start rambling. But it seems to me that there are far more important things to be done than chastise a bunch of grown men to clean up their language like some sort of advice columnist.

I just think that turning a few heads is bound to happen any time someone has a strong opinion and voices it to someone who has a contrary strong opinion. I'd rather have my guys out there talking than keeping their heads down. And anyone that gets caught in the crossfire should feel happy to come to my little establishment, grab a brew, have a dance, and let tempers cool down while having a rip-roaring good time.

Frank puffs a few more puffs from the same everlasting cigarette. This seems like a good enough time to metaphorically open up the conversation for more voices through the wonders of nicotine.

Yajriobe entered with a little bag at his side, he grabbed it and chucked a sensu bean towards Frank, "here take this it might help ease the sore head...." with that Yajirobe stared at him while he went on talking and eating the sensu bean at the same time.

The thing is when you talk about being able to dish out a few verbal licks back and forth, that's where the problem here lies. Nobody can handle it around here anymore. They take something said to them by heart the younger generation are starting to become a little too self conscious and if you call them a shmuck, well there going to go and cry to the big boss. The boss will ignore this as they know the way of the world until 5 people start crying to him then 6 and it continues in a very large loop that doesn't seem to end.

Omerta, there is a word I haven't heard spoken in awhile. Omerta what does that mean? Whats the proper meaning?

If a friend of ours comes to me and calls me a shmuck and I go crying to my boss is that breaking Ometa? Yes.

Omerta isn;t just about keeping private information to yourself, it's about protecting your family. If this person is talking to you on the streets and calling you a shmuck then you don't need to cry about it, everyone can see it.

Everyone needs to take a good feel because if they don't, they balls are gunna disappear...

Yajirobe throws a sensu bean to maple and takes a seat on the ground waiting for someone to call him a shmuck.

Lulu stands up from the park bench she's been seated on watching the conversation that appeared in front of her. She starts toward Drunky pushing that schmuck Yajirobe who has planted himself on the ground in her path over, and hurries forward. Reaching Drunky she grabs his face with both hands, stands on her tiptoes, and plants a huge kiss on his forehead, then turns and walks away.