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Drunk and dangerous. Started by: Curtis on Aug 30, '14 15:36

After recent events had calmed down, Curtis had time to clear his incredible hangover. Dragging himself back from the alcoholic brink, he clambered into a long shower and into a fresh suit. Slapping himself and checking his appearance he walked out into the street and drank in the air. It felt good to breathe. Heading into a local square he felt he had something of relevance to share.

"Hello folks. I had an experience recently that might make for a chuckle and maybe a lesson too. So...

The other day I was a bit worse for wear. Tired and impractically drunk I shouldn't have been out working. I've had a lot on my mind, my first child on the way and my insatiable love of the drink was cause for considerable distraction. The bloodshed surrounding the Godfathers deaths was happening and there was an abundance of hired muscle around without anyone to police them. Most of the community had set about wiping out these liabilities before they could harm people with their dreadful inactivity. Feeling every inch the powerhouse New York sex-machine, I decided to do my bit.

Striding along I saw a dead Consigliere lying in the street so I took a few pops at his guards. I was struggling to hold focus through the fog of drink and wasn't at my sharpest. My shots went off in the vague direction of the marks who saw me coming a mile away and scattered. I sighed and took another swig from the bottle. Looking down I noticed the Consigliere's family name and immediately took it upon myself to go to his old Headquarters and take out the guards hanging around his inevitably dead boss.

I was a man on a mission. I was strong and I was going to deliver the message to all those dangerously helpless bodyguards taking shelter in the wreckage of the fallen building. I was the man. Oh yeah!

Arriving at the building I was amazed to find it in almost perfect order. I was used to these situations and had expected smoke coming from the windows, armored doors torn off, things of that nature. This was quite the opposite, there was not a scratch on it. Thinking it was odd I took it upon myself to take down the building single handedly. After all, I was just the sort of heroic warlord that could handle a mighty task like this alone. But it was going to take some time. So I raided a local store for a crate of bourbon. 

Returning refreshed, I set about filling empty bottles with gas from a nearby car and began launching molotovs at the building. They did a surprising amount of damage to the doors and I smiled at my own handy-work. Then, to my surprise I saw faces at the windows. They looked surprised too. Shocked even. In moments the flaming doors of the headquarters burst open and the bodyguards of the boss of the Consigliere's family came flooding out. There was bloody hundreds of them!

"Fuck me!" I thought aloud. I knew what this meant, I knew what was about to go down. Yes yes, this was the next chapter in the ever broadening legend of Curtis the magnificent. This was the time my mythological status would be cemented as I took down legions of bodyguards and an entire building single handed. I drew a cigar from my jacket (one has to keep a cigar around for such moments of potential heroism) and lit it. Grinning at the inevitability of death or victory I steadied my steely resolve and my not so steady eyes.  

Time for some quick thinking and even quicker hands. I drew my gun and began my one man war. Shooting with willy-nilly accuracy and launching more cocktails at the already burning building, I laughed as only the greatest heroes could in the face of such overwhelming odds. It made no matter to me that all these target's were static and defenseless, I wasn't insecure and proudly carried on.

After a few hours of bloodshed and hard work I noticed a presence standing next to me. It was an old friend from another city. This city. This district even! The one I was entrenched in combat with. 

"Fuck me!" I said. "What are you doing here?"

My friend looked at me quizzically and then at the burning building, dead guards and collection of empty bottles. He then turned to me and said something most unexpected.

'Why are you attacking our HQ mate?'

"Eh?"

I was confused. He was a solid individual who I knew to be reliable. He wouldn't mess around at a time like this. He was also the respected RHM of a local outfit. This outfit in fact. This outfit! 

"Fuck me!" I said. "Hang on,what? How, the what the shit?" I felt the full force of the alcohol and adrenaline come to bare. My head spun as the awareness of my situation came flooding through the fog in a cleansing wave of dreadful realization. There was no way around it, mistakes had been made. The more I looked around the more I saw bewildered and terrified faces. Hiding behind cars and poking out from windows. 

'That's our HQ there pal. And those corpses there are, or were, the boss' bodyguards. I think you may be a bit the worse for wear mate. Maybe we should sit down inside.' 

He walked me into the HQ and sat me down in front of an understandably confused Don Tesla. I looked the man in the eye, in full appreciation of him incredibly calm demeanor. I felt some sense of self responsibility was in order. Ever the eloquent diplomat, I began...

"Fuck me!" I was still a bit surprised at the reality of the situation. "I'm sorry my friend, I don't think I've ever been this embarrassed. I can't think for the life of me how this happened. (At the time I honestly couldn't remember the moment's oversight and assumption that had lead to this monumental cock-up.) Please let me try to put this right."

Telsa raised an eyebrow and looked around at the various burning elements of his building being frantically put out by bleeding bodyguards. Without a word he returned his calm gaze to me and left the question unspoken. I decided the best way to smooth things over would be to throw massive bundles of money and apologies at him in the hopes of rectifying the situation. 

"There are several factors that may have lead me to have such an incredible lapse in concentration. Even more, mostly intoxicants, that caused me to stand outside for several hours waging a one man war on your building and staff. Might I offer you my most sincere apologies and immediately arrange for several million dollars to be wired to your account for rebuilding and rehiring?"

Cherokee leaned over and whispered in Tesla's ear. Tesla's face remained blank betraying no hint of reaction. After a moment Cherokee stood aside and Tesla spoke.

'Normally, as you know, this kind of thing would by you a bullet. On this occasion however, given the circumstances and more importantly due to what Cherokee has just told me, I will accept your apology and proposal. Let this be the last of it and now, you owe me. Understand?'

"I do."

He shook my hand with a sincere look in his eye and walked away into the back offices away from the amateur fire-fighting and corpse clearing that was going on in the lobby. Cherokee walked me outside and hailed a cab. As it waited beside us I turned to bid him farewell, my head still spinning.

"What did you say to him? I mean, thanks man, you really went to bat for me there and I can't thank you enough, but what did you say to him?"

Cherokee just chuckled and opened the cab door. He said nothing, just gave me a wink and a hug and waved goodbye.

Curtis looked around at the faces listening and got on with making his final point.

Now although this may be a funny story. I was only saved by a very old friend, a very understanding leader and a very large amount of money. In all the generations of my bloodline, this sort of thing has never happened before. Not once. The point is, mistakes can happen if you don't pay attention. Even a moderate amount of distraction or oversight can cause calamitous events that will almost certainly lead to your entirely justified demise. 

Chuckling to himself he wondered about other people's experiences.

If any of you guys have stories about silly shenanigans you have learned from, I'd certainly love to hear about them.

Sitting down with a sobering coffee, he waited to hear from the faces around. 

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Cherokee walks in with the wind rustling at his overcoat and sits down next to Curtis and orders a coffee

 

It's good to see you in a bit more sobering light if I do say so myself

 

He shakes Curtis' hand and takes a sip of his coffee

 

That was not nearly the dumbest thing that I've seen happen in this world. Some of the stuff that my ancestors have seen or even been a part of were mistakes that were much more costly than a few bodyguards. In my line's first account he was a crewleader. He trusted someone as his Right Hand who is a legend around these parts. When the man of the Marco bloodline died in a war he was told by a new member that he was the son of Marco. Thinking that this man knew all about our way of life I made him my Right Hand. He then proceeded to invite all of the upper structure of my crew into our HQ and execute them all one by one for vengeance against my boss before I heard gunshots from down the street and was able to stop him.

 

A man known as clipper had convinced my trusting father that he was Marco's son. That was a very dumb day in my bloodlines book, not only did we lose many members, I lost the trust of a few dear friends.

 

Cherokee takes another sip and puts some money on the table

 

We all make mistakes, its how you learn from those who came before you that you get better. If it were not for your ancestors and mine they would have been dead many times over in other situations, it is not the first time we've been a part of saving each other's lives and it won't be the last. It just goes to show you that in this world there are people who will always remember the good and bad people.

 

Cherokee smiles and hands Curtis a flask

 

Now how about a bit of the hair of the dog?

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Hey, we've all been there.  Sometimes we can blame it on the sauce, others can blame on stupidity.  Mostly I claim both. 

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What a tale! I thoroughly enjoyed listening to your story and I think it's safe to say we have all found our selves in sticky situations when heavily under the influence!

I'm pretty sure this is the craziest story I've come across though. I wonder if anyone could beat it?
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Or at the very least, match it.
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Ah yes, indeed. Fuck ups, cock ups, blunders..........whether involving liquor, or maybe not.

All in all, I'm sure there are many tales of momentous falure that could be told, and many failures to go alongside them. But, as is often the case, hanging ones skid mark ridden undies out for all to see may be easier for some than it is for others.

I applaud your frankness Don Curtis, and your ability to convey a tale which is not only entertaining but has the important ingredient which many would do well to take on board and that is, a message.

I too have a tale, a tale of missed opportunity.......and yes, alcohol did play a part in the events that follow together with a severe bout of toothache.

It was the evening of June 14th 1929 and the venue was New York city. The activities of the underworld were being carried out with military precision, thanks to the impeccable leadership qualities of its senior members and it was their successful operation and number of members which attracted the first of my bloodline to this way of life, and ultimately the big apple.

My ancestor was extremely wet behind the ears and the world in which he now lived had many twists and turns. Much was known to him, but much had still to be learned. War had broken out, and everyone was expected to play their part, as is the way. He was keen to serve, and eager to progress, and stood in line awaiting whatever fate would be dealt his way.

To his surprise he was ordered by his Boss to take a shot at another member of the crew. The boss was a tough guy, he knew how to get the best out of people and his unwavering loyalty was visible to all. The conversation was along these lines;

 

“Shoot him, now!”

 

“I can't, he's a friend, I like him. What is this? What's all this “pro” talk?”

 

“Shut the fuck up and shoot him, now!”

 

He was at this point flanked between his boss and the tall elegant figure of another city boss, a woman who had given him the opportunity to join our way of life in the first place. He swooned at her pale beauty and long elegant closely shaven legs as she leant towards him staring into those innocent child like eyes of his.....

He knew something was wrong at this stage, seriously wrong. At times of war it was said her nipples protruded through her silk top like a pair of covered wheel nuts and her breasts moved of their own accord at an alarming rate......he was at that moment witness to such events, and her breath smelled of garlic.

 

“Shoot him, shoot him!” His boss was now yelling.

 

“Whoa, I gotta gun, I gotta gun, where's the trigger?” He replied, suddenly aware of the importance of the task at hand. The entire war effort obviously depended upon his skill and nerve and whilst levelling his weapon he took the shot.

At that moment, the air became stale. Silence swept across the gathering as a poster suddenly appeared from nowhere stating that his target was dead.

My ancestor became encircled by people with inquisitive looks upon their faces, gazing at him..........and his gun.

“It went wrong” was a shout heard from the rear. The gathering began to disperse slowly as everyone came to terms with the terrible event that had just happened. “Rest in Peace” were the only words spoken as a comforting hand was placed upon my ancestors shoulder.

“It happens........sometimes...........don't blame yourself.”

Gradually his heartbeat began to return to its normal rhythm when his boss stepped before him with a piece of paper. It was a witness statement. Which he read out to all who remained.

It appears my ancestor didn't get a shot off at all, he was unaware of various key elements involving the use of ones weapon and was nursing an itchy finger resulting in being beaten to the mark by the enemy. The entries in that particular journal end suddenly at that point.

His son quickly learned of the need to act upon instruction as swiftly as a greasy ferret down a rat hole together with ensuring his knowledge regarding shooting was crystal clear.

The alternative is often met with an early bath in a local river, accompanied by an additional 100lbs attached to your boots. Something we all may ultimately fall victim to, but delay as long as humanly possible.

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Trixie listens intently to the tales and nods her head.  Yes, sometimes the most important lessons are learned when there is great risk being taken - or when copious amounts of liquor are consumed!

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Curtis listens to Cherokee speak and smiles as he remembered the situation he mentioned.

"Oh man, I remember reading one of my ancestor's journals from the time clipper did that. Absolute carnage. Terrible scenes. Still, as you say, a very important lesson learned. Even if it was at such a horrendous cost of life."

Taking the flask from Cherokee he listened to what the others had to say before becoming engrossed in Brian_Damage's story. When the young mobster was done speaking Curtis went over and shook his hand.

"Brian, thanks for coming forward with your story. It was most entertaining. I'm sure most of us have stories about the first time one of our line was asked to take such a shot and the inevitable gun fumbling confusion that comes with such a seemingly bizarre request. I remember incidents of that sort myself. Head pissing sweat and heart jangling in my chest like a fucked clock, trying not to make a balls of it."

He rolled his eyes remembering the nervousness of such inexperience. How long ago it seemed.

"I must say though, I have never experienced anything quite like your tale. I'm sure you must have almost freaked out when you saw your target die. And then for it to have not even been you. Quite disastrous luck. Still as you say, you learn from these things, to act fast and decisively at times like that. Thanks for your story my friend."

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Taking her usual walk through the main square, Chelsea spots a man talking to a crowd of people. This man, a Don by the looks of it was telling a story. Chelsea stood there entranced by the events Don Curtis went through. But his story also reminded her of her own mistakes in the past.

"I thoroughly enjoyed your story Don Curtis. A brilliant portrayal of the mistakes people can make but also how owning up to them and trying to make amends can help to put things right. Personally I am still very new to these shores so I have made a few mistakes already and expect a few more to come, hopefully nothing to match yours." Chelsea giggles. "But I do remember one mistake that nearly cost me my life. Allow me to tell me my tale....."

 

 

Chelsea was walking down the street, pride in her step as civilians and thugs moved out of her way. She was a Goomba of The Fonz Appreciation Society and being part of such a noble family came much respect from those not in this line of work. A group of men walked pass her. These men were dressed well, wearing shiny new suits and what was obvious expensive rings and watches. This time it was Chelsea's turn to keep her head down and move out of someones way. She still knew her place in the world and these men of honour were well above her station. Once they past Chelsea moved on heading directly towards a fruit shop across the street. She grabbed a bag ready to pick some apples. The first one she picked up was a juicy red apple her favourite, as she went to put the apple in her bag the apple exploded. Chunks of apple flying into her. She just stood there shocked before the whole store started getting pelted by bullets. People screamed all around her but all Chelsea could do was stand there, too scared to move. A roar of thunder is heard before the firing on the fruit shop stopped. This woke Chelsea up from her shock so she was able to turn around and look outside. Durdens.

She walked out onto the street and saw three bodies of what were clearly crew members of the Tyler Durden crew. This wasn't a targeted attack. This was the Durdens causing havoc again. The men of honour Chelsea passed earlier were now standing over the Durdens bodies laughing to themselves. Spotting Chelsea one of them walked over.

"Are you hurt?" He asked

"No sir.."

"Then pull that gun out of your god damn holster and start to lay into these Durden scum. You seem fresh but this is easy work!"

The man walked back to the group and they headed off towards the sounds of more gun fire. Chelsea on the other hand started walking back the other direction. She completely froze up during the gun fire. She hated herself for it but she was still new. She would move past this....she hoped.

Getting close to her building she entered the alley way at the back of her building. She never enters by the front. Just as she got closer to her door and man jumped out of the shadows staring right at her. Durden. Her experience with the Durden crew was small but she knew enough about them to recognise them instantly. This Durden was definitely low ranked. His suit was poorly made, no laces on his shoes and his hair was a mess as well as all the dirt on his face. Stupidily this Durden hadn't even drawn out his gun yet. But his fingers started to twitch, ready to grab the gun that was tucked into his pants. Everything Chelsea had learned from Jono kicked in and she swiftly went for her gun in one smooth motion pointing it at the Durdens chest, chest being a larger target, less chance to miss, and fired two rounds into him. The Durden was so slow that he fell back onto the pavement, hand still twitched as he died. 

Chelsea looked upon the body. Her arm started to shake from all the adrenaline. This time she hadn't froze but took action. She smiled. This was her first Durden kill and it felt great. One wasn't enough. She had to kill more! Chelsea started to run, heading to any sounds of gun shots. Over the next few hours she would kill more and more of these lowly Durdens, steering clear of any high ranks. Letting high ranks from her own family deal with those. It was middnight by the time Chelsea decided to go home. She was exhausted but also full of exitement, she felt like nothing in the world could stop her. Just as she is about to go around a corner she heared someone running. She went against the wall and quickly peeked around the corner. A Durden. It was dark but she could tell even at this distance it was a Durden. She could pratically smell them from a mile away now. Another kill then. This she couldn't pass up. It had all been so easy as will this one be. She waited a few more moments for the right time to go around and shoot. Still waiting. NOW! She quickly swung her gun around the corner ready to blast whoever she saw when all of a sudden her arm stopped dead. The Durden had caught her arm. In a moment of panic Chelsea fired shots from her gun for them only to fly over the houses behind, far from their mark. The durden pushed her back and Chelsea fell onto the floor. She looked up to finally get a closer look at this Durden. This wasn't a low ranked one. This one was a made man possibly even higher. Through her tiredness, arrogance and stupidity she had tried to kill a Durden well above her and now she was going to pay for it with her life. 

The Durden went to grab his gun. Chelsea took this moment to get up and run. She had never ever been this scared before. Blood pumping in her legs fueling her to go faster and faster. She ran for her life knowing any second now a bullet was going to fly into her back and kill her. A gunshot echoed in the streets. They say you don't hear the gunshot that kills you but Chelsea heard this one. Chelsea felt a pain in her neck but kept running. She tried to block out the pain. Finally out of breath and hoping she was far enough and slumped down against a wall. She put her hand to her neck and it came away with blood. The Durden had grazed her. She would live another day. Seeing her own blood was finally too much for Chelsea to handle after of all the events of today and she passed out.

Hearing voices, Chelsea quickly woke up, her arm going for her holster only to find it empty.

"Easy there." Said a familiar voice. Chelsea looked up from the sofa she had been laid down on to see Jono looking down on her. Chelsea burst into tears. "Oh Jono it is so good to see you. I thought I was going to die, I swear I thought he had me..."

"Wow there," Jono said trying to calm her, "Relax for a moment and tell me what happened."

Chelsea went into all the details of what she went through for when she finally finished Jono just started laughing, Chelsea frowned.

"Well hell if any mobster ever said they didn't make such a mistake before they'd be a liar. You shouldn't be upset you should be happy that you lived to learn from this mistake!"

"I guess..." mumbled Chelsea.

"Come on, up you get. The wound in your neck has already begun to heal so get back on your feet and back out there. You still have much to learn but most of all there is money to be made and there is no time to waste crying over nothing. You are a member of the Fonz Appreciation Society so act like it!" Jono commanded though his expression was still soft.

"Ahh yes...SIR!" Chelsea said realising how she had just behaved in front of the crews right hand man. "Thank you so much for getting me. I swear I won't let you down again!"

"I'm sure you won't" Jono grinned.

Dismissed, Chelsea walked out of the room heading straight for the front door and back out onto the street. There was work to be done. Jono was right, she should be happy to be alive. She made her mistake and now she will learn from it to get better and better to help this family in anyway possible.

 

 

 

"Obviously this story wasn't as intense as yours Don Curtis but I still remember the emotions I went through on that day. I learned a lot of valuable lessons, lessons that I will never forget. Despite all the negatives from the mistakes we make I think the one major positive is that we learn things that will stick with us for the rest of our lives."

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Curtis listened with great interest to Chelsea's story. He laughed heartily at the familiarity of the mistake. It was one everyone was bound to make at some point or another.

"Chelsea. Thank you very much for your story. Wonderfully told. You say it wasn't as exciting as mine but I am inclined to disagree. Yours was a mistake caused by an adrenaline shaken, action packed evening of war against those verminous Durdens. Mine was more a testament to just how absurdly drunk I am capable of getting

You're in good hands with Jono though. Lord knows that guy has a book on basic mistakes and how to avoid them. A book written by hard earned experience. You'd never expect it from the mature balanced mind he has now. It appears his only vices are stealing hubcaps and being scouse, but trust me... He's had some monumental moments in the past. Some really funny shit. You should get him drunk and hassle him for some. You won't regret it."

He walked over and shook her hand warmly.

"Really, thank you for such a richly told story. I do hope you share future events with half the skill you have there."

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