A devastated AlanisMorissette leaves the funeral of one of the bravest men who has ever known...  She goes to the Streets, and begins to address the crowd...

"Colubo was a man who believed in truth.  He put his life on the line, and he was murdered for it.  CLO has said that he does not want any witnesses to give statements about his heinous murder - BUT I DO.

I want to know who killed this man of the arts, a photographer, and moving pictures camera man, this hero.  This man who laid down his life, and one of no small accomplishments, to expose the lying and hypocrisy at the heart of Chicago.

We are left with a fool running Chicago, whilst a high-ranking naval officer is hiding rum from the supposed heir apparant.

What happens when truth becomes a lie, and leaders hide?

Chaos happens.

And that's what Colubo tried to halt.  And in doing so, he died.

I for one will never forget him.

This begs a questions: How best to remember him?  Shoot some of our enemies?  Hold a writing competition on the nature of truth?  Expose more fairly benign telegrams sent by the Chicago Godfather?

Please, friends, remember Colubo and suggest how best we can remember him.  I intend to write and sing a song for him."

With that, AlanisMorissette walks away.  It has been an eventful day...  

"Excuse me you forgot to call your friend a fortune teller too"

Heston wonders off a little leaving the mad person to continue a new rant maybe he should stick around and watch the show this one could also provide some entertainment. Heston has another thought maybe just maybe people might stop and actually watch this shit so what better to snack on but bags of popcorn 

Heston hurries back to the kitchen and starts producing popcorn. There's butter and some sweet and just for those who fancy something different there's truffle and wild garlic flavour. Heston bags the popcorn in small bags and drags one of his commis chefs along with a table to sell the delicious treat 

Sitting on the hood of his car, cigarette in hand, Mickey throws peanuts at the performing monkey.

"Dance for me monkey, dance."

So the music plays, and the monkey dances.

"Did you actually just say that, or did we all just imagine it, Lincoln_Lawyer?  As ever, I'll defer to your childish need to have the last word.  Ensure they're up to standard.  Goodnight, son."