I began to grow eyes on the back of my head as the heat turned to my own back door. The fuckin' pigs were beginning to tail me before I had even began my career as a professional gangster. I don't know, maybe they thought I was some kind of threat to their perfect ways in the city. Fuck the pricks. The guy from across the street paid me a visit to sell me his bar. You'd better bet your mother I bought it. It gave me a little corner block to call my own. Stay the fuck out of it if you know what's good for you. I like to keep a baseball bat by my side for good measure, so step closer fuckers at your own peril. Good, glad that's outta the way.

Anyways, I got a corner block to call my own and I gave a couple of fellas a home. A shit hole really but it was a place where I could organize all of my crimes. Yes we do crimes. Why? Because we are gang of professional criminals who one day are going to be spoken to by the godfather himself. It may not be anytime soon, but yes it will happen. Why? Because we got fuckin' balls and won't take shit from nobody. Listen, come into Los Angeles all you want, but don't come near my fuckin' door. And If you do, then god help you. I'll make you disappear in a box somewhere out in New Jersey. No one will ever find you again fucker.

Time to take a stroll down the street and the guys know I mean business. I jumped in the car and got the driver to take me downtown, where the so called mobsters where at. AS we pulled up I seen numerous fellas and gals standing around scratching their arses. What the fuck? This ain't the organized crime my old man used to tell me about. Hell you couldn't even call it picking daisies. I jumped out of the car with my baseball bat and stood on top of a bench that looked as though it couldn't even hold two teenager punks on it. I cleared my throat.

"Alright fellas listen up, cause this gets said once and once only." I say holding onto the baseball bat. "The old geezer from across the street from me has sold me his bar. Yes I'm using it to organize my crimes, and yes it means I'm proclaiming that little corner block. The city is yours, do whatever the fuck you want in it but let me tell you this.

Don't ever come fuckin' knocking on my door, cause it'll be the last thing you ever do. You give my guys trouble, and there will be trouble for you. We ain't here to harm anybody, we're here to earn money and keep ourselves to ourselves. I suggest you do the same. This is our fuckin' street and you coming in. Capiche? Next on the agenda then." I say stepping down off the bench as it began to wobble that much it felt as thought it was gonna snap. Cheap fuckin' piece of shit.

"So then. Now. I do take decent guys into my gang. But I won't just take some nobody hoodlum from down the road who thinks he can get away with even just stealing from the kitchen. No fuckin' way. You want in my territory and work for me? You gotta have the right way of doing it. You better have a snazzy fuckin' black and white suit, and you gotta have a nickname. It ain't fuckin' rocket science fellas, you know what I'm saying.

And another thing, I ain't talking to a nobody jimmy who speaks fuckin' jibberish all the god damn time. No chance. Talk to me with style, like you deserve to speak to me and just maybe you'll get an answer. Like I said before, I am a professional criminal who ain't taking shit from nobody. Got it? Because this baseball bat sure as shit has." I say waving the baseball bat about. I went to sit down on the bench but realized it would break so I stood upright. Cheap fuckin' piece of shit.