The sound of trash cans falling to the ground comes from a dark alley just before a man is seen emerging at first by the cherry of his freshly lit cigar, and eventually by his slender figure. His arms ripped like pythons, his face resembles a work of art chiseled from stone, and his stature made woman of all walks of life take a deep breathe upon glancing at the marvelous man. At least how this man felt about himself. In reality he's a short plump man with a face of a pit, and the stature of Rumpelstiltskin. Yet the man knows, the only real successful Dick is a Dick with confidence. One who stands up to the occasion, and embark into territories that most would never attempt to succeed. 

He jump's up on a podium in front of a group of uninterested patrons standing in the street. Before speaking he thinks silently to himself, "How convenient is it that there is always a podium just sitting randomly in the middle of the street for people to speak on."

"Ahem, good afternoon Ladies and Gentleman!!! My name is Richard, friends call me Dick. You can call me what you want, as long as you stroke my ego from time to time. I need the love, I like the love, I love the love. In fact I love the ego stroking much like Whoreable enjoys a warm glass of milk before pimp slapping Chaos for taking the last slice of pineapple turnover. Don't mess with her pineapple turnover, I promise you things will not end up well for you. Word has it DeanWinchester- couldn't walk straight or sit properly for a week. He blamed it on the Supernatural but I think we all know what truly happened, that's right, pineapple turnover."

As Dick sat there shaking his head in circles as he spoke, the civilians in the street glance very seldom toward Dicks direction. Not for understanding what the words he speaks mean, but because he is simply an odd looking individual. 

"I always had this perception that once big time, life was golden. Cash flowing, women offering sexual acts involving exotic wildlife, dwarfs feeding you grapes while ForgottenMelody waved paddles keeping me cool knowing god damned well big forest leaves work way better. Much more pleasing to the eye as well. Anyways, I'm getting caught to deep into thought. I think anyone who has ever totted a gun, slapped some dick for extortion money (no not pleasure), or even tossed their sister or brother on the corner for some extra funds has often thought about it. So why not share a bit myself?"

Dick Smiles

"It's not easy being cheesy or a Crew Leader for that matter. You know stories of those sexual acts with the exotic wildlife and sexy women waving big leaves to cool you down while vikings feed you grapes is just that? Stories. Kate-Macer actually feeds me grapes from time to time, but that's the extent of it."

Deep breathe, exhale, pass gas quietly and continue speaking as if the podium squeaked a bit

"Another perception I remember having is that if I ever did become big, you know every Dicks dream, if I was ever given responsibility, life would be SO MUCH EASIER! No more hard work! Instead I'd task everyone to do everything for me while I sit back sipping martini's while bird watching. Something about Robins that just tickle my inside. Yet another myth. In fact, it's twice the work, twice the responsibility, and twice as demanding. You don't just hop into some magic pumpkin while some fairy gives you a hand job doing 5 mph down a dirt road while pixies fly from the trees. No, you build from the ground up. Just like you did when you first arrived to these shores. Not only that, but your every move is watched and criticized. For example....."

Dick takes another hit off his cigar.

"Well I can't think of one. I'm drunk, and I'm a Goomba. So really I could just be speaking out of my ass this whole time."

Smiling at the crowd Dick continues

"It takes a lot of patience to do what we do. I must admit though, I never realized it would be so stressful. Even after reading my ancestors journals from their experiences. Mind you when I say stressful, I don't mean it as a, "I swear if I get one more tip about coke being high in Cali fucking fornia, if I hear one more complaint from the family of sexual harassment, I'm blowing my brains out," sorta stress. I mean stress as in wanting to be that person Mafioso's look up too. Doing things the right way, attempting to better the community, making sure I please the Godmother in every way possible, even if it means dressing in a tutu and pole dancing in her lobby. Whatever the deal is, I want to be the best at what I do. Well let me rephrase that, I want to DO the best in everything I do."

"You know pressure is a motherfucker around these parts. Each and every Mafioso experiences some sort of pressure from time to time. It only get's worse, but what makes a good gangster is one that thrives under pressure rather then fold. For example, I was with this very large women the other night. She demanded to be in control, so I gave in. She climbed up on top and within 5 mins of deciding what the future holds in store for maybe the next 15 mins or so... (Just kidding ladies I'm an all niter!!) I was under 350 lbs of pressure. Did I fold? Hell no. I mean my back bent a little bit from the waist up, but I found a solution. Instead of the bed we moved to the floor. Granted a bit more uncomfortable, but sometimes you have to sacrifice to get to the greater goal. I may have lost the luxury of comfort, but I saved my back from going out. Dick loves him some women, skinny, big, lovable, mean as a snake it don't matter. Beauty is how you show yourself, not how physical traits make you appear."

Dick smiles and stomps out the roach of his cigar. He had to save face, a lady in the front row known around these parts as Beatrice looked entice to tear Dick a new one. Dick don't want that. 

"So you see, if something goes wrong, or has the potential to go wrong, you must act fast and find a solution before you end up broke. It doesn't take no average FatherMacklePenny off the street to run a family, but any average FatherMacklePenny CAN run a family when properly trained and taught. A friend told me that once, yet I still don't see how that makes any fucking sense."


"Now I know some of you are probably listening to me and thinking, "Well now we know why he's named Dick. He's sitting here spitting his spunk all over the street." I'm fine with that. I'm not doing it for those of you who have no sense of..... Never mind not worth my time. I'm doing it because while I am growing up in the world I want share what I have learned or have read in journals from the past. Hopefully it may shed some light on some myths out there about becoming a crew leader and it being cake walk from there. If that was the case, anyone could make it, hell not even just make it but they'd last forever right? When really the hard cold truth is, if your unprepared for the roles you throw yourself in, then don't be surprised to wake up with a ball in your mouth and Twinkies up your ass with a note pinned to your shirt reading, "Kiss Kiss, love Premier". I know, a great grandfather lived that scenario."

Dick lights another cigar while shuddering

"I just ruined the delightful snack forever with that image. My goal in this speech is to simply, well I guess share some kind of knowledge to those who may feel it's just simple once reaching the holy land. What's your thoughts? Am I wrong? Am I right? Do I do too many narcotics? It takes some balls for a Goomba like me to sit in front of a wonderful crowd a such as yourselves, but what's a Dick if he ain't got balls?"