iocaste looked puzzled

Wait Al_Capone, they let you in the canteen ?!! They vehemently and profusely protested every time that I have asked to access the premises ! Some nebulous and honestly dubious stories about having a limited budget for the canteen, about not being able to feed everyone if I eat the way I used to when I was part of the Wiseatorium, etc. They will hear about this ! 

You have undoubtedly noticed that I, Grin-07, mafia prodigy and Wise Guy-in-waiting, have achieved the fabled rank I was destined and as was foretold. Incredibly, nobody has ever made this rank quicker than I did, an unprecedented feat. 

I can assure you that things will be improving radically in the Guild of the coming days, months and probably years. No longer with the likes of two pence Capone have the audacity to turn up unannounced and, perhaps more crucially, any tip recorded in the handbook after 16:00 on March 18th will be disregarded entirely.

Iocaste will continue to be unwelcome; that much has always been right. 

The Wise Guy Guild is behind me now. It is my duty, as a Boss, to look out for the little ones; the gangsters, the goombas, the earners. Those poor little devils trying to kick butt and drop names in the fedora-lined hallways of this industry we call the mafia. While you, Grin-07, will likely die within 48 to 72 hrs, as is family tradition, this handbook will live forever. It may even help Grin-08 find his place in the world. It certainly will be of use to Grin-09, as the odds are high he may be born deep into the Chinese-American mafia era, in which case tip #8 (LEARN MANDARIN)  may save us from a swift transition to Grin-10. 

So, it is for them that this handbook exists; the spritely and gruesome little Grin's still to come. Not those like iocaste, who I fear is far beyond my help. He is essentially taxidermy-in-waiting. 

Sooooooooooooooooo, we find these eggs. We don't know what kind of eggs they are. The location is pretty non-descript. They aren't in a nest or being incubated by any kind of animal. They're just there. But we know these are some wild eggs. They're a little discoloured, with brown patches, and about twice as large as a chicken egg. The problem I'm having is Arnold Rothstein is dying to eat one, he's so hungry. He doesn't want to cook it; he won't even hear of poaching, or frying, or scrambling, he wants to crack that baby open and slurp it on up like a milkshake. I'm like, 'Aaaarnold! That's groooosss!' but he's determined. There is desperation in his eyes. He's snickering to himself, rubbing his hands together, licking his lips, as he looms over this batch of eggs, looking like a man ready to ease one down his throat, like a man willing to swallow them whole like a snake. And then one cracks. The shell begins to fall apart. It crumbles, and crumbles, little pieces of egg shell breaking off, until a slimy, squeaking head pokes through. It's screeching now, goo sliding off its face, the face of...no...it can't be? Is that Dutch Schultz?! Arnold think it's a set up, he flies into a rage, he stomps on the little bastard until there's nothing but yoke left. And then he slurps him on up. 

Hi guys, welcome to The Gangster's Handbook, an insider's guide to kicking butt and dropping names in the fedora-lined hallways of this industry we call the mafia. Al Capone here, that peak behind the curtains of this crazy mafia life was of course the famous story of how Arnold Rothstein wacked Dutch Schultz - two CLASSIC gangsters - though I'm sure you've heard that one before! Arnold joins us on the panel for this next tip, which is coming to you steaming hot from the uncharted depths of the gangrenous, syphilitic rot-pulp they call my brain. 

TIP #9 - SQUIRT MILK AT FERAL BARN CATS.

Alright, people, tip #9. We should be moving up in the world at this point. Some of you may even be people your families rely on by now. That is, if you've followed this guide. So, right now, you're in a place where you're wondering, 'What's next?'. You're wondering, 'How can I impress my colleagues and peers?'. Good impressions are everything. The more well liked you are by your boss, by your capo, by your little wise guy friends, the better your chances are of earning that sweet, sweet button once Frankie Dingus eats one and falls into the Gowanus canal. But first, you've gotta show these guys you're worth their trouble. You've gotta make them satisfied that you're the right guy for the job. 

And, tell me, what's more satisfying than squirting milk straight from a cow's udder into the mouths of a row of feral barn cats? Uh, how about absolutely nothing? Wait until you've seen the Don's face light up the moment he directs a stream of fresh cow juice right from the teat and into the waiting belly of that little scamp of a farm cat, boy you're not gonna believe it. He'll make you a Made Man right then and there. The other Made guys are gonna be whooping and hollering, squirting milk at each other from their respective cows, taking drinks themselves every once in a while, and hell if that farmer ain't pleased 'bout how little is endin' up in his bucket!

It's a day out for the family they'll never forget. 

Let's go to the panel. 

Rothstein?

"You got any of them cow eggs for eatin'?"

Goddamn Arnold, you're insatiable. I don't think that's how cows work. Anyway, that's all for the panel. Thanks Arnold!

Tip #9 - SQUIRT MILK AT FERAL BARN CATS.

We'll see you next time.

I feel obligated at that point to mention that I am not to be considered a feral cat. Please don't squirt milk at me. Hulk already complains often enough about my supposed lack of hygiene, where he is obviously only jealous of my magnificent mane and silky fur. Contrary to what he believes, I put a great importance in keeping clean and well groomed, which...

SQUIRREL!

And on that note, iocaste ran crazily around the farm trying to catch the elusive rodent, ruining any cleaning he had done that day.

Young Zapata, a fresh face in the mafia, wiped the dust and soot off the copy of The Gangster's Handbook he had found lying around the Grin Gang HQ. The previous occupants must have left it behind. He wondered how they would be getting along, without the help of some of the best tips you could find to leading a successful life as a big-shot mafioso. He opened the book and read carefully through the incomplete table of contents:

Tip #1 - NO IRISHMEN
Tip #2 - BOSS BABY
Tip #3 - ACT A FOOL
Tip #4 - FREAKY FRIDAYS
Tip #5 - DO AS THE BIG AL'S DO
Tip #6 - SCROTUMS
Tip #7 - IMAGINARY DOG
Tip #8 - LEARN MANDARIN
Tip #9 - SQUIRT MILK AT FERAL BARN CATS

Yes, there was a lot of wisdom here. This would serve him well on his journey. At the very least, tip 7 would help him get out of some of the more tedious things Grin-07 had him doing. But who could teach him Mandarin? A trip to Chinatown was in order in the coming days. With this useful guide at his side, there was nowhere to go (besides Chinatown and a dairy farm) but up. 

While playing his favorite game ever, also known as '"trying to find where the hell Zapata and Grin-07 had hidden the food this time", Elodin stumbled upon an old dust-covered, decrepit book. Surely no material treasure was hidden there, like a fresh coconut or a grilled piece of rebellious Mexican meat, but maybe it contained some hints about the best hiding places in a building as big as the Grinquarters ?

Mmmmmh. It seems to contain some nonsense up to tip #9, where they speak about giving milk to feral cats. If you replace cats by raccoons, I like that tip very much ! Would you minding sharing some more knowledge, mister Zapata ?

Elodin, it was with great pleasure that I noted the copy of The Gangster's Handbook currently in my possession - found gathering dust in a dank office space of our crew headquarters - was in fact the author's manuscript of the unfinished work from the famous and classic gangster, Al_Capone, who died having achieved very little despite his seemingly infinite wisdom on the art of being a respected and successful mafioso. However, it saddened me to discover that many of his tips had been largely ignored by my fellow gangsters currently in the business; the obvious exception of course being Nipper, whose Mandarin is impeccable. 

I feel as if I have some duty to the man to continue his work, in one way or another, particularly in my role as an advisor to Chicago mob boss Grin-07 and our many associates. Perhaps one day tip #10 will come from a new handbook, a Zapatista manifesto, to guide young gangsters on becoming as successful as I currently am, despite being subservient to a leader who barely knows his ni hao's from his zaijian's. 

Ah yes, The Gangster's Handbook. I remember having a copy of that very tome thrust into my hands by an overeager Al-Capone, always desperate for recognition from his betters. He was always saying to me "do you think this is a fair and honourable handbook, Grin-07?" and I was always reassuring him that it was, despite having barely paid any attention to it whatsoever. I mean, what could it teach me? How to get demoted, twice? How to get a fat wacking in the face the second the bullets started flying? Ha. Don't make me fucking laugh. This classic collection of shite can continue serving it's true purpose; reading material in my occasionally broadcast bathroom whilst I drop a collection of shite of my own.

Sal had long since believed that he could have that he had learned everything but then...out of nowhere he noticed an abandoned street corner...looking around, no one else seemed to be here...shuddering he went forward and picked up a handbook of some kind...

The Gangster's Handbook

Dusting off some cobwebs, he found himself looking at it in surprise, laughing at some pages and taking some things seriously. Hmm, it seemed beneficial for the new blood on the streets. It certainly had some appeal, he wondered if anyone else would create such a book...

A sequel of sorts, he was sure that it would be received greatly.

He left the book on the soapbox, deciding to make sure that anyone else who passed the street corner as he did would give the book a read. It certainly had it's moments, without another word he took off, humming a tune as he recalled a title he had read in that book...

Mayor of Creditham, it sure had a nice ring to it...

Sooooooooooooooooo, we find these eggs. We don't know what kind of eggs they are. The location is pretty non-descript. They aren't in a nest or being incubated by any kind of animal. They're just there. But we know these are some wild eggs. They're a little discoloured, with brown patches, and about twice as large as a chicken egg. The problem I'm having is Arnold Rothstein is dying to eat one, he's so hungry. He doesn't want to cook it; he won't even hear of poaching, or frying, or scrambling, he wants to crack that baby open and slurp it on up like a milkshake. I'm like, 'Aaaarnold! That's groooosss!' but he's determined. There is desperation in his eyes. He's snickering to himself, rubbing his hands together, licking his lips, as he looms over this batch of eggs, looking like a man ready to ease one down his throat, like a man willing to swallow them whole like a snake. And then one cracks. The shell begins to fall apart. It crumbles, and crumbles, little pieces of egg shell breaking off, until a slimy, squeaking head pokes through. It's screeching now, goo sliding off its face, the face of...no...it can't be? Is that Dutch Schultz?! Arnold think it's a set up, he flies into a rage, he stomps on the little bastard until there's nothing but yoke left. And then he slurps him on up. 

Yes, Salvatore, it is stories like these - the wacking of Dutch Schultz - that continue to make this handbook such an invaluable resource to aspiring crooks such as myself. It is those with knowledge of the past who know how to deal wisely with the present. I think that a spiritual sequel to the handbook sounds like something the small-time crooks of this world would not only be clamoring for, but something they need in this time of rebuilding.