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Being selective about my art gallery jobs from now on Started by: Grin-22 on May 26, '22 01:31

A man in my position, a Boss in the #1 mafia basketball franchise in the country, (albeit that I don't actually play on the team (I just wash the uniforms (though if you've ever seen JFMAST play, then you've seen Conqueeftador outlining in those XXXL super husky, thigh-grazing shorts and you're welcome, I did shrink them to a XXL on purpose (you're welcome)))) I have to be careful about my exposure. 

Once you get to this level, people come to you with their hand out looking for a piece of the pie. They want you to host their sitdowns, they want you to write for their newspapers and most of all, they want you to carry their organized crime jobs. You see, a Boss, like me, is in high demand because a Boss epitomises what good mafia basketball is all about. Sure we might lack the mystique of a Don or the tendencies towards brazen robbery of a Consigliere, but a Boss is approachable, capable and in my case, handsome.

These traits, unfortunately, are the envy of lower ranked athletes. Capos, in particular, often can't hide their desperation to play a little one-on-one with Bosses and they can sometimes become a little try-hard in their approach. It is ok, I don't judge them for it. I understand that it is difficult to resist the allure of working with a Boss, especially one battle-worn in the crucible of mug-city Detroit, with more 10th round duel beatings on his resume than any other man in history; heck, given half the chance, I'd probably want to OC with me too.

Early this morning, I was inundated with offers for my services. This wasn't unusual, my personal secretary, Dimilazzo, came to me with a bag full of invitations every morning, and today was no different; it was to be another round of disappointments. I sighed, knowing I had to think of the bigger picture as I politely declined each in turn. And then the next. And the next. When we were done, Dimilazzo showed me the transcript and it made for grim reading:

You have declined the crime invite.    
May 26, 00:03:08    Mikhail has invited you to a crime. (Accept) - (Decline)
May 26, 00:02:03    Mikhail has canceled the crime "Steal from an art gallery" you were invited to.
You have declined the crime invite.    
May 26, 00:01:58    Mikhail has invited you to a crime. (Accept) - (Decline)
May 26, 00:01:51    Mikhail has canceled the crime "Steal from an art gallery" you were invited to.
You have declined the crime invite.    
May 26, 00:01:44    Mikhail has invited you to a crime. (Accept) - (Decline)
May 26, 00:01:35    Mikhail has canceled the crime "Steal from an art gallery" you were invited to.
You have declined the crime invite.    
May 26, 00:01:26    Mikhail has invited you to a crime. (Accept) - (Decline)
May 26, 00:00:41    Mikhail has canceled the crime "Steal from an art gallery" you were invited to.
You have declined the crime invite.    
May 26, 00:00:30    Mikhail has invited you to a crime. (Accept) - (Decline)

In an ideal world, I'd love to have participated. I'd do all of the things asked of me if I could. Only, we don't live in an ideal world, we live here, and sadly in this world, my priority has to be to stay in peak physical condition for the good of the team, understand? Pushing myself into the red leads to injuries, and despite what HeadCoach might tell you, the uniforms DO NOT wash themselves and not "anyone" could do it. If I pull a hammy because I've got Hobbs on my back again, beating a hasty retreat from another doomed art gallery theft he's masterminding (in the loosest sense of the word), how am I going to get everything out on the line in time for the next game? 

So, try not to take it to heart. Sometimes, I'm just gonna have to decline your art gallery job. Sometimes, I might even decline it 5 or 6 times in a row if you cancel it and keep reinviting me to it, and then immediately accept one from someone else. Don't get upset, please, just know that it isn't anything personal. Ok? Thanks for listening.

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if you're red you're dead as the books say

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Hobbs was a man of many talents. He was a wrestler by trade before answering the call of the G.O.A.T Giorgio-Esposito in the war effort. From there he'd quickly become part of the furniture. The old bookshelf that was majestic in it's day but was now old and showing signs of serious wear and tear. His Las Vegas Hotel chains were Three Star at best, offering some comfort but also the chance of a shit-stained mattress that couldn't endure any more flipping to hide.

The one thing he did think he excelled at was being the mastermind of organised crimes. In fact, just last night in Las Vegas he had managed to string together five in a row that were all riveting successes and praised by the masses. He was content, with one exception; Grin-22. In his days as fresh faced Made Man he'd strung a few crimes together that didn't quite go to plan. In his defence he was bravely getting bodyguards winged every few minutes whilst trying to help out the incompetent  girthy Headcoach and his basketball team fight off the rightful owner of the city, Bricktown CL (GRHS). His mind wasn't on the job, so sure, he'd failed a few dozen times. 

The only people who refused to recognises greatness was now Grin-22. Many times he'd tried to invite him. Many times he was ignored or belittled.  Pondering his next move, he sat down and wrote a letter to try and change his mind.

Dear Grin, I wrote you but still ain't callin'
I left my mobmail, my lounge details, and my HQ address at the bottom
I sent two OC invites back in Bricktown, you must not've got 'em...

 Hobbs finished the letter and sent it. He then sat down to his cold tea, wondering why he'd even got out of bed at all.

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Frenchie overhead Grin-22 bragging about his criminal prowess and couldn’t contain her vehemently skeptical reaction. 

"In my experience Grin-22 is actually not the best person to call when you are organizing some work. One hundred percent of the time, I would choose Mikhail and maybe even Hobbs over Grin-22.  These are the kinds of men that you can trust to get the job done. 

"Firstly, Hobbs is a consigliere which we all know is an infinitely superior rank to boss, and he is also organizing his own outfit over in Vegas.  This is a man you can trust to do more than wash gym clothes. 

"Mikhail, while maybe not a consigliere, has never clumsily groped one of my bodyguards and then run off to tell the world that he robbed me.  Mikhail has never had a hissy fit over a suit that his family stupidly and notoriously  refused to buy several generations ago.  No, in fact I am sure that Mikhail would understand that you cannot buy a thing that is already purchased. 

"I can’t even imagine what kind of stupid fuckery Grin-22 could get into if I were to trust him when real money was on the line."

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Much in the same way this marijuana-leaf beanie of a man chooses to pick and choose his organized crime partners, so too do I - HeadCoach, war hero, mafia basketball tyrant - employ a careful selection process for one of my most important rituals. It's no secret that Detroit is the mug capital of this community. Like Spartans, our strength & endurance are derived from beating the weakness out of each other like a couple of rabid orangutans pummeling the goddamn bananas out of each other. 

May 15, 08:43:20    You caught up with Grin-22, beat them within an inch of their life, and took $53,228
May 17, 14:41:24    You caught up with Grin-22, beat them within an inch of their life, and took $940,000
May 17, 22:14:37    You caught up with Grin-22, beat them within an inch of their life, and took $70,798
May 18, 17:57:36    You caught up with Grin-22, beat them within an inch of their life, and took $4,271
May 19, 10:10:42    You caught up with Grin-22, beat them within an inch of their life, and took $145,054
May 20, 08:09:12    You caught up with Grin-22, beat them within an inch of their life, and took $1,214,254
May 21, 17:43:39    You caught up with Grin-22, beat them within an inch of their life, and took $481,747
May 22, 08:45:13    You caught up with Grin-22, beat them within an inch of their life, and took $75,625
May 23, 14:45:56    You caught up with Grin-22, beat them within an inch of their life, and took $66 You also stole their gun.
May 25, 12:22:17    You caught up with Grin-22, beat them within an inch of their life, and took $0
May 27, 10:33:45    You caught up with Grin-22, beat them within an inch of their life, and took $1,002
May 27, 14:59:46    You caught up with Grin-22, beat them within an inch of their life, and took $2,300 You also stole their gun.

This guy has taken so many beatings, you could whip a tennis ball off his calloused torso. 

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What's in the mailbag today, Dimilazzo, more letters from FrenchieHorn claiming to be from FrenchieHorn's solicitors I suspect? Three of them, wow. Her 10 cats must have been out with her imaginary husband that day, gave her some free time to set down the knitting needles and whip the crayons out. No, no, we don't need to read them, just put them straight in the bin like usual. What else is in there? What about that one covered in chocolate, open that one. I don't know that it is definitely chocolate, Dimilazzo, it was just a guess, what else could it be? Jesus Christ! That's disgusting, why would it be shit? Smell it then, I don't want any shitletters being wafted around in here. Ha, look at your face. I told you it was chocolate. Which fat fingered little gobshite sent me that? HeadCoach, I'll bet. Probably washing a whole chicken down with a pound of dairy milk again, or "recovery formula" as he calls it. That fucking glutton. I thought woolly mammoth was extinct until I saw him take practice for the first time. Now I know it for fucking sure, he ate the damn things. Ha ha ha. Why aren't you laughing, Dimilazzo? Don't you get the joke? HeadCoach. Is. A. Fat. Dullard. See? There you go, lap it up, you little shit. Now, stop wasting my time and tell me what Don Bovine wants. What do you mean it isn't from him, who is it from? Hobbs? Hobbs...Hobbs...no it isn't ringing any bells. What does it say? Wait, hold on. Smell it again, does it have an air of....failure about it? Yes! Ha, I fucking knew it was from that buffoon. Yes I did know, you cheeky little fuck. I was just joking when I said it was HeadCoach, keep up Dimilazzo, Christ. Hey, did you know I beat the living piss out of HeadCoach the other day? Yeah, I really went to town on him. He'd been bragging about taking a bit of chump change out of my pockets - no big deal I virtually let him take it, didn't want it anyway - well now he knows eh, Dimilazzo? Ha ha ha. Beat the fucking brakes off him, yeah. Good times, good fucking times. What? What did you say? Oh, yeah, the letter. Na, chuck it. No, I don't want to read it. Yes I'm sure. What's the matter with you? Why have you got such a hard on about this? Get rid of it. I promise you it won't be anything good, the man can't do anything right. What's next? An Art Gallery job? Hmmm. I suppose my calves can take a little work out. Mastermind? Ah, Climax. Sure. That'll do nicely. Next? Ha ha. A fourth FrenchieHorn solicitors' letter? Ha. Oh my, fake hubby must have taken Whiskers 1-10 for a real stroll. God, I can practically feel the desperate loneliness from here. Yeah go on, read that I've got five minutes. 

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Johnny was smoking a joint and overhears some folks complaining about art gallery robberies. The idea of robbing an art gallery just seemed ridiculous to him.

"Art Gallery? Who the hell robs art galleries these days? What the hell are you supposed to do with a couple of Van Goghs and Picassos? Nobody in the neighborhood is gonna want that shit. The pawn shops won't take em. Plus that shit gets too much heat quickly. Nah man what you wanna do is rob yourself a couple of warehouses. TVs, radios, dishwashers, refrigerators, that type of thing. That shit you can move."

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Now Grin-22, seeing how your inbox is so overflowing with invites to help run these jobs one has to wonder what your secret is. How does one pull off the perfect crime with such frequency and finesse?

I for one am known to be a complete jobber when it comes to these complicated affairs, something to which the trees of The Forest can all surely attest for they have been stung by it many times. Sometimes it's bad intel, sometimes an unexpected patrol, often something does not go according to plan.

In fact, only a day ago I somehow managed to mismanage 3 separate sallies in a row! I don't know why, but the adrenaline of the moment kept urging me to try and get my mitts on that beautifully painted landscape I've coveted for so long. But alas, at the end of the day I was left staring at the felt as they say in Vegas.

So Grin-22, seeing how your picasso-pilfering skills are in such high demand, what is the art of stealing art?

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Hobbs had heard that this was the most popular discussions in town. His sometimes acquaintance Frenchie had contacted him about it as well, once again encouraging him to abandon Grin-22 as a friend due to ‘reasons’. There were no doubt many ‘reasons’, but Hobbs suspected most of these resolved around love, lust and rejection, plus an unhealthy affinity for cats that Grin could not understand.

Still seething at the rejection, and lack of reply to his letter he sat down once again to pen a new letter. This time he’d put more effort and soul into it to illicit a response, and if he didn't get it, he'd have to escalate. He wondered if his car was large enough to fit Headcoach into or if he'd need to chop him up first... no Hobbs. Wait first. See what he says. Violence might not be needed.

He took out his fanciest pen and away he went.

Dear Grin, you still ain't called or wrote, I hope you have a chance
I ain't mad, I just think it's fucked up you don't answer friends
If you didn't wanna talk to me outside the 12th Street Toilets
You didn't have to, but you could've accepted an invite from Mikhail
That's guys like my little brother, man, he's nearly years old...

There was more of course, but it was Saturday and there was only so much Hobbs could write when he was about to have a drink of the finest Birra Mapelli that money could buy, especially when the great game was about to start. None of that poncy basketball nonsense either where people couldn’t touch each other’s balls or anything, but a real game.

“Ricky, send this on to Grin-22. Make sure you write the address on perfectly, I don’t want Grin to have any excuses not to reply this time."

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Void came running ragged and breathing heavily, he pulled up a written statement from his financial bookeeper and held it out for the ever dwindling crowd to see.

Your gang earned a total of $132,000 split 2 ways.

Though my attempts to get advice from the infamous Art Abduction Afficionado himself were utterly rejected I managed to secretly rope him into a 1-on-1 training session today. I still struggle to put what I saw into words, some maneauvers were displayed which up until now I had thought to be anatomically impossible.

I can't say I have gotten any more knowledgeable or became less likely to botch these heists, so I feel that just like most of the art gallery jobs that I am the planner of, this training session was a failure.

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Void, while I'm sure Mr. Grin-22 appreciates the flattery of being called "the infamous Art Abduction Aficionado", I am almost certain that this title belongs to FrenchieHorn for her infamous larceny of artwork belonging to Grin-22, himself. She did it single-handedly, without needing to invite any sort of accomplice. Despite being caught in her dastardly deed, she maintains her innocence and has yet to be held culpable. That is the work of a true master art thief.

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What ever happened to this? You would have been a lot better served if you kept turning down Organized Crimes from people, maybe then you'd not be so easy to trap into a corner. I am more than happy to help get you into better shape, since I guess HeadCoach isn't doing much to train you into the man that I personally think that you could become.

Gnoch lets his words stew a little, it's a lot of talking for people who aren't exactly the best at reading social cues. 

What do you say? I'm really not trying to be disrespectful here, I think Detroit is a lovely little city with all of the charms of a much bigger city like Vegas. Sure, it smells bad and there are loud cars all over the streets-- but I'm not one to judge a place on it looking like a huge piece of shit, I try to reserve my judgements until I've gotten to know the people.

So let me get to know you. Come learn how to OC with the big boys, and I promise you that you'll stop holding back Hobbs and maybe succeed a few crimes every once in a while. Think of the money you could be making. 

Big money. Vegas money.

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