Some of you may have read CoconutRandy's excellent piece about the two previous writing competitions.  This one will be a writing competition, but with two twists!

Firstly, the piece of writing has to be, as always, between 300 and 600 words long.  But this time, you have to write about a specific subject.

CoconutRandy, in his excellent piece, revealed that someone sent him an anonymous account of someone, let's called him, or her, Moped, because they're clearly a fucking mope.

Moped made some claims about me.  Your job as a writer is to write about what kind of person Moped is.  What type of person would make allegations like that?

What type of person, on our society, allegedly takes money, then snitches on a man of honour?

So, write 300 - 600 words on whether Moped is a snitch, and what motivates him.  Or her.  

The second twist is that a panel of six CLs will vote for the best piece of writing.  I will have nothing to do with it.

IT WILL BE INDEPENDENTLY JUDGED!!!

So, to recap, write between 300 - 600 words on what type of person briefs a journalist against a man of honor in our society based on Omerta, and it will be voted on in public here tomorrow.

Due date is tomorrow at midnight!

The judges are: Homer, Sharpe, NotoriousBIG, Adolph_Thornton, Xanxus and Billy_Mastrosimone

October 30, 1938.

Revenant is drunk, if he was walking, he would stagger but he’s driving. Heading home from his little riverboat adventure driving a truck full of 7 and 7 sealed in 7UP bottles they rattled around as he bounced down route 6. Looking at the dial of the Motorola he had put in his truck he rolled up and down its AM dial looking for WCLF. Suddenly he jerked awake and cold sobered at what was coming out of the trucks speakers.

“A humped shape is rising out of the pit. I can make out a small beam of light against a mirror. What's that? There's a jet of flame springing from the mirror, and it leaps right at the advancing men. It strikes them head on! Good Lord, they're turning into flame!”

 (SCREAMS)

“Now the whole field's caught fire.”


“The woods . . . the barns . . . the gas tanks of automobiles . . . it's spreading everywhere. It's coming this way. About twenty yards to my right . . .”


This went on for a while the whole time Revenant becoming more and more disturbed. Monsters from Mars were attacking. He had to get home and help the gang prepare for a real turf war.

Revenant takes the corner on 2 wheels as he approaches headquarters.

“A bulletin handed me . . . Martian cylinders are falling all over the country. One outside Buffalo, one in Chicago, St. Louis . . . seem to be timed and spaced”

Leaping out of the truck braking so hard the cases of bottles slam into the back of his seats Revenant panting and wide eyed looks at the men standing outside.

“What?” The biggest goomba in the pack said.

“The Mars monsters attacking” He stammers.

With everyone bellowing in laughter Big Goomba pats him on the back. “It’s a radio play buddy, tricks and treats.”

With a red face knowing he will never live this down he motions to the truck now reeking of whiskey from a dozen broken bottles. Several men head over and BG whispers.

“One trick that aint a treat, Hanfeld’s been singing. I am here to tell you to teach silence to your pet”

“Understood” He replied with a nod and quickly unloaded the truck he bid everyone a good evening and drove off. Wishing he was still feeling happy drunk he did not look forward to this task.

Officer Anthony, don’t call me Tony. That’s the first thing you will learn about Officer anthonyhanf. Revenant met him in a seedy strip club he was dumping some coke at. Officer Anthony walks in and smiling wants to cut a deal. It worked great at first, he gave him tips and free stuff he seized. More and more regularly Revenant was hearing how big this guy’s mouth was. Word on the streets is he got caught with his hand in the cookie jar and is setting up a deal with his union lawyer to rat everyone out. Why doesn’t matter, he broke the silence, hes a rat, a mope, a snitch. Theres a special place in hell for someone who shakes your hand with one and stabs you in the back with the other. Time to send him there.

It was easy, find the cheapest dancer in the cheapest club and he would be in a private room spooning her coke. When Revenant walked in his eyes widened for a moment then the knowledge that he did it to himself took hold.

“What? You want me to beg?” Were his last words.

It’s 6:47 in the morning when the phone rings, at first Moped thought it must just be the ringing in his ears from the night before, but then it continued on, so he rolled out of bed and picked up the receiver.

“Hello?” A gruff voice responded back; “It’s me, meet me in the alley behind the old diner off 12^th St, 7:05, don’t be seen.” He heard a faint click, and before he could respond, the voice was gone. Thinking he already knew what this was about, he grabbed the evidence from his conversation with CommisarZverev, got dressed, and made his way to the diner.

Upon arrival, he was greeted by a man in a dark suit, a man who he immediately recognized as his superior in the Bureau. “Agent Moped, I assume you have what we need? There’s a paper being published shortly, and we want to get this to the press, as well as add to our investigation.” Moped scrambled around in his pockets, until he was finally able to pull out the letters, he had exchanged with Zverev, handing them over. “Yes sir, here they are. Could my name be redacted? I shudder to think what he would do to me if he found out.” The senior agent stared down at Moped, before nodding. “Of course, we wouldn’t want a mope like you getting wacked before your time.”

The senior agent shuffled away in the early morning darkness, getting into a black car and riding away, leaving Moped to think about what he had done. He had taken the sacred oath of Omerta, yet here he was handing over confidential and personal information, his pockets a little fatter sure, but a snitch, nonetheless. At least he had a cushy job in the Bureau waiting for him, provided he lived that long.  

"Moped made some claims about me.  Your job as a writer is to write about what kind of person Moped is.  What type of person would make allegations like that?

What type of person, on our society, allegedly takes money, then snitches on a man of honour?

So, write 300 - 600 words on whether Moped is a snitch, and what motivates him.  Or her.  "


Why doesn’t matter, he broke the silence, hes a rat, a mope, a snitch. Theres a special place in hell for someone who shakes your hand with one and stabs you in the back with the other. Time to send him there.

(the rest is just setting the scene and getting the right amount of words)

Luc was sitting at his table playing cards with some of the guy’s when he was asked what happen to Mickey the Mouth Sorelli?  Luc always had a smile but his facial expression changed which was rare.  Luc leaned back in his chair then he leaned forward and collected his pot as he won that hand.  Then he exhaled his cigarette smoke slowly then he replied.  

About two years ago Mickey was at some bar in Queens taking shit that he shouldn't, You all know Mickey liked playing the role of a big shot and when you supplied him with a bit of liquor or praise his mouth would go for a fucking run.  Well he got to talking about Lucky to some guy that was sitting next to him.  Someone that wasn't connected.  The way the story went was this guy recognized him as someone that was connected to or associated with Lucky and when the man asked him if he did, Mickey mouth got the best of him.  Mickey told this guy not only did he work for Lucky but that he was the one of Lucky’s top lieutenants.  That he was the brians and he talked Lucky into helping a local woman run her business as a way to earn some extra cash.  He even told this stranger that he talked Lucky into helping Thomas Dewey when the Dutchmen wanted Mr. Dewey rubbed out. Then the big mouth went on and told the guy that he also talked Lucky into helping people in need of fun to get away from reality.  The man ask him was he saying that Lucky dealt drugs and Prostitution?  Mickey smiled and said he said to much all ready.  The man nodded and praised the mouth and bought that idiot a few more drinks but not before he was spotted with the reporter. 

The next day the man wrote the story in a local tabloid when Lucky saw the papers he wondered who was talking to the papers.  The tabloid never mentioned Mickey's name.  It said that a reliable source close to Lucky said x,y and z.  Well Thomas E Dewey saw the papers too and his team went to work.  They started arresting prostitutes every chance they could until the met some upset with Lucky.    Now before Lucky got caught up ; Lucky got word that some friends of ours saw Micky talking to that guy and they found out that the man was a reporter.  Lucky heard what Dewey was doing and gave the nod and that was that with Mickey the Mouth.

I have to apologise and enter as is. The special place in hell line was the jist of how he would handle a moped. There was like 3200 words on my first draft. You see while researching radio stations of the time and the road he was on. Making sure his radio would get it and I stumbled on how yesterday in 38 "War of the Worlds" was done live on the air. How a half cocked Revenant would react to this dominated my thoughts entirely. 

There was a lot about how my soon to be retired CA is a mope too. I hit a few walls made of writers blocks, the term moped doesnt get made till 52 :( 
"You know why I call him Moped? I had to peddle him before he would go" 

They call him anthonyhalf because hes so obsessed about it he wrote it all out on the form and his ID tag didnt have room.

Hope you enjoyed the condensed version, it broke my heart with every word I had to cut. 

An applicant applied for, and was granted, an extension.  The deadline is 00:32

tiggy arrived at the circle of already assembled individuals, ready to voice their entries regarding Moped. tiggy was subject to a large amount of glares and stares of disapproval. @CommissarZvervev had just announced an extension, but of course, this was all part of tiggy's plan.

"My friends, you may be upset that I have arrived late and thus interrupted the whole process. However, this gathering is in regards to a mope, and what would a mope do besides arrive late? Lateness and tardiness is the epitome of a mope, and I would not do this mope of my tale any justice by submitting my entry on time. And now, without further adue, I hereby present my tale dubbed 'The Mope'!"

Mopey Moped was a mope, the biggest mope around, Mopey Moped was such a mope he didn't even realize he was a mope until the bitter end. Mopey Moped started his career as a mope officially when he allegedly took money, extended as a courtesy and gift of prosperous and mutually beneficial relationship, extended as a symbolic gesutre of a most favorable business arrangement, and then subsequently spat in the face of a Man of Honor by snitching. Mopey Moped was such a mope that he could not possibly understand that there was no happy ending for him, as there was no place for such a mope, and mopes like him would be caught one way or another. Mopey was motivated by greed, and lust for causing harm and despair among those seeking to make the world a better place. Mopey couldn't possibly know that his time would eventually come, and rather than having an ounce of decency and respect and face his time with his head held high and accept responsibility and be the better man, Mopey could only have the ability to dig his own hole with his own decadence, disgrace, and arrogance. Society would only be too happy to let a mope like Mopey put himself in his own grave. 

“I know I’m a mope, I snitched on a Man of Honor and committed an immense amount of disrespect by taking his money. I should have offered to help just on the grounds that he was a Man of Honor, a Man of the Utmost Honor. A banker, a friend, a Man of Honor” Moped would never think to himself, as he was such a mope.

A mope like Mopey would be such a mope, that his own ability to be such a mope would be the cause of his own undoing. Such a mope would not survive long on these shores. Every dog has his day, and every mope will get his mop. 

Tiggy has my vote.

What a disgraceful mope. 

My vote is for the story as told by Mister Luc-DiCaprio.

Oblivion takes my vote. Good read though throughout all.

A pleasure to read through every story. 

My vote goes to: Oblivion

Destro nods as the other judges cast their votes.

Great submissions by all but I have to say I was surprisingly amused by tiggy's story.  She gets my vote.