Roco stood atop his goat cart which had been handed down to him from his father. The cart was a simple Victorian dog cart design with two magnificent billy goats harnessed to pull it through the streets of Chicago. To the side of the cart stood Harvey_Specter dressed in his suit as per usual. Roco looked down at Harvey, as per usual. Harvey shook his head and rolled his eyes, as per usual. He knew the madness of the display that was to come. Roco opened his arms.  

“Billys and Nannies, I am here today to present the PaddyPitruzzello Memorial Dog Boast and Cobb Toast. Paddy isn’t exactly dead yet, but we all know his family haven’t had the best of luck. Here’s hoping you are the different Paddy. Anyway, to the dog boast. Sara, produce the dog.”

Roco clapped his hands and SaraMoore jumped out from behind the cart. She held the cutest little puppy the world had ever seen. The puppy looked out in the world with its beautiful hazel eyes and watched in wonder as the gathered crowd oohed and ahhed. He had a silky soft coat, magnificent floppy ears, and a cute little paw. His tale wagged with excitement as Sara presented him to the crowd. She held him high above her head. Roco waved for quiet.

“Yes, indeed. Look at our fabulous puppy. Is he not just the most wonderful thing you have seen in the world? We love our puppy!!”

Some of the crowd moved forward. PaddyPitruzzello who was still recovering from the shock of the news of his death tried to keep the crowds back from the puppy. Llew and Nipz joined his efforts to keep the crowds at bay. Roco waved his hands at the crowd.

“Get back, he is our dog. Not yours and you will never have something so cute. Only Chicago can boast of owning such an extraordinary creature. We have not yet named him. Whenever I ask HyperVentilate, he panics and whips out his paper bag. I don’t think he can deal with the sheer sweetness of such a creature. PaddyPitruzzellos suggestion of DoggyMcDogface has been rejected. Ok Sara, take him away now that is enough of the dog boasting.”

SaraMoore disappeared off to care for the little fella. Roco jumped down from the goat cart. He took a glass of milk that Harvey handed to him. Roco took a quiet sip to clear his throat and turned back to the gathering.

“This is not just a dog boast though, I would also like to propose a toast. You see, I am in a good mood. We have vanished invaders from The Loop, and they will not be returning.”

Roco shot a glance at Hyper who nodded in agreement.

“I’m in a joyful mood. I am very thankful to those of you that gathered to assist us in our time of need. The show of support was immense. During the fighting of these foes, I was coerced by one very tricky pirate by the name of Stan_S_Stanman into giving his praise and compliments. This resulted in such witty lines as hold me closer tiny Stanley and Oh my days look at man, look at his arms. So large and strong. Perfect for holding on to a dog lead and Stan Stan, he’s our man if he can’t do it, well then, we will just wait for Spacepole to arrive. There were many others.”

Harvey hid his face and turned away in embarrassment.

“However, offering this praise got me thinking.

Are we too quick to jump to the negatives in this world?

Are we too fast to judge those who fall and fail and

Are we all too eager to kick a man when he is down?

I do not know the answers to these questions. I am just here to pose them as I was pondering them myself as I perused my father’s old journal.”

Rocos mind wandered as gazed off into the distance and he smiled. A cough from Harvey brought him back to the moment.

“In conclusion, I would like to propose a toast to an unsung hero in my books, a man not massively active in these streets, yet no doubt plays an important role in this world of ours”

Roco raised his glass of milk.

“I propose a toast to Cobb, may you continue to survive these heinous attempts on your life, may you continue to increase your drug carrying ability and may you one day answer my attempts to talk to you. To you Cobb I raise a glass and say as a wise man once said, Mo Money, Mo Cobblems. I invited anyone else to propose a toast to any of their own unsung hero's”. 

Roco took a big swig of milk and went to explain himself to Harvey. 

Harvey shook his head, the ammonia from the goat piss must have gone to his head. He wasn't much of a dog person, but even he had to admit that it looked cute. Harvey just hoped that SaraMoore would have more sense than to leave the puppy anywhere near the Satanic goats that roamed the HQ halls, he could almost hear the sound of crunching bones. He still didn't know what was wrong with Yogi Waffles as a name that Roco didn't even see fit to mention it. Stupid fucking dog in any case. Animals just made people weak, look at Louis Litt and his obsession with cats. 

Harvey had expected the announcement of the Chicago mutt to be the end of the boss's speech, but know, he was still running his mouth. At least he wasn't saying stupid shit like 'Roody Poo candy ass', what sort of muppet speaks like that? Roco had two photos in his office, photo's that most people weren't aware off. The one that had been blown up to a huge size and was on the wall behind his desk was of Former New York GFC, Chris Vaughn... in the nude. The other that was less known about, and had some odd stains on it, was of Stan_S_Stanman, and Roco kept that one locked securely in his drawer where no one could see it. Perhaps therefore it was not surprising was the eulogy off love for Stan that Roco had now gone into. 

Most surprising of all however, was he was now waxing lyrical about Cobb. Harvey had a lot of respect for Cobb, his ancestor had worked closely alongside one of Cobb's once upon a time, and from what he could see, Cobb was cut from the same cloth. Perhaps he would have a quiet word with Roco, away from the HQ, and the Goats and the smell of ammonia, and the Screaming of the puppy...

"That's a damn fine dog if I ever have seen one," thought Nipz.

It was quiet a pleasant day in Chicago when the news broke. Whether PaddyPitruzzello was really worthy of a fine creature was a question many had asked leading up to the moment. Roco had the foresight to get some of his associates to help with security for the event. Naturally, Llew and Nipz jumped at the opportunity to proof themselves to the head of the family--the GOAT himself.

Of course, up until the event, the actual dog itself was kept quite secret from those involved. It wasn't until the actual presentment of the dog that Nipz had gotten a good look at the pup. What a magnificent dog it was. Nipz couldn't stop thinking about it, while he was holding back the crowds from trying to get too close. Nipz was almost envious that PaddyPitruzzello was getting the dog instead of himself. 

"What makes him so much better than me to be getting the dog?" thought Nipz, "If one of these people in the crowd got past security and got to @PaddyPitruzzelo and roughed him up, maybe the boss might reconsider giving the dog to someone else."

The body of SwoonKidd was laid to rest in her best, and a clear watered revival of sorts in Paddy's soul took place. His heart quaked as the knife was carefully wiped, Cap'n Casey was behind his portsided shoulder. Casey was claspin' the lost soul in a rigged race of sorts over the shoulder with his right hand. 

The donjon buildin' don juan Juan'deed'd bastard of a cop that sat parked across the street took a picture. Words crossed ears with people upstairs. MeeMaw's letter was simple this time.

and i'da fought the daughter too, 'ceptin' i didn't wanna hurt n0b0dyy

A rattlesnake in the grass captured a mongoose at a waterin' hole in a boot. And no one was around to capture the receipt. Does a reptile ever have its own day? What kinda turtles run races anyways, these days everyone's goin' on'n on about some kind of dumb extermination contest. What's the fuckin' point anyways?

Paddy shucked corn for a livin' Pitruzzello, aimed to be a goodfello' o' sorts. 'Ceptin' 'ee never really could figureheads or tails of tales told in the swamps. He was a simple farmhand for a goat farmer. That's atleast'n wot 'EEZ ol' mumsy nun of a gun really would let the trigger fingers run for anyways. He gets in the car where the picture was taken.

But who warned him this would happen?

It couldn't be another member of his farm. Don't they know that guy might actually be a cannibal? 

Jesus fuck what happened to this place. Paddy thinks to himself as he drives over to the closest airport. Roco had given him a place but not specified the timin'. Paddy begins to toss a rubber ball up and down as the two cops in the front start their chapped assholery of chit-chat back and forth. Almost as if they were hintin' at somethin' greater than themselves. 

Paddy hums to a tune in his head as the wheels of a jalopy keep turnin' and a-churnin'. Chuggin' through a castle of thought with a moat that was quite a bit deeper entrenched than they had thought. Surely they considered the wick hidden behind the wicker works of art wouldn't rear its ugly head on a crossway in some random thoroughfare. Why here of all places? The jalopy pulls into the airport without a hitch. 

Sure wish they'd play the goddamn radio on these drives, listenin' to em moan on'n on to the same ol' fuckin' dreary song. 

Members of the patent-pending, possible black gold ahead, 5150 JanK St. gang escorted Paddy onto a wonderfully decorative Boeing. The paint job glimmered inside the hangar, not one light was turned on. Nor do the hangar doors swing open. The bodyguards immediately shot the two cops that dropped off Paddy inside the airport lot container. Properly timed and done in a well ol' fashioned manner meant a lot to the ol' farm. The TRA members immediately begin dousin' the cop bodies in kerosene.

The Don's note read

She is a slut for money, her day will come too. Fear not brave souls, the reaper only works for tips. 

Linebacker build of a human bein' opens the airplane doors for Paddy as he exits his brief adventure down his own memories of a certain lane. The young lad winks and sucks his teeth twice. The pair of miscreants exchange a head nod. The smell of nicotine hits the air as a fresh kicker stick is lit.

Paddy exits an unknown hangar in the town and country of Capwnyvlle. A beat up souper sald of a machine, Paddy felt the lean of the vehicle. He was the chosen son of The Fat Gypsies. Adopted by a birthright not one could just claim, but rather one you would need to earn your keep in. These stars of red carpets walked through filth on the daily. Their lifestyle alone would be the death of them. How could one develop such a habit as uppers and failed hopes?

His car arrives on time to a meetin' of minds. 

Paddy just nods along to everything his captain says.