ℍ𝔸ℝ𝕆𝕃𝔻 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕌ℕ𝔻𝔼ℝ𝕎𝕆ℝ𝕃𝔻

QUALITY, FACTUAL JOURNALISM. HOT SCOOPS.
THE MYSTERY OF THEBEAST'S FORTUNE; A SURVEY

Chicago • Thursday, July 20th • Vol III, No. 5

Journalistic quote of the week:

a known liar and degenerate such as harold.

- TheBeast

FRONT PAGE

HELLO LOYAL READERS. I sit in a freshly furnished basement, sipping on expensive exotic cocktails. JournalistHarold is living the high life now, a Made Man, a respected Journalist who enemies of The Free Press cannot blast to bits willy-nilly without reprisal or at the very least a sitdown of sorts.

My familial monobrowed brethren sneer at me, tell me that it is unspeakable for a Harold to publish more than one paper in their lifetime, that there are certain customs which have to be respected and that I cannot pretend to be an exception.

Sod them I say. I shall prove them wrong, or at the very least attempt to.

THE STATE OF THE NEWSPAPER BUSINESS

There is still no competitor newspaper. I urge someone to step up to the challenge before the lack of competition makes us at 𝕥𝕙𝕖 ℍ𝔸ℝ𝕆𝕃𝔻 into complacent bastards who start to report on totally uninteresting subjects such as auths, obits and perhaps worst of all: crew's tax policies.

That would truly be a Systematic Immolation of 𝕥𝕙𝕖 ℍ𝔸ℝ𝕆𝕃𝔻. Don't let it happen. This is a warning.

A TREASURE-HUNT FOR THE FORTUNE OF THEBEAST

Every mobster who isn't a completely out of touch oaf is aware that the late TheBeast (GRHS) was a financially savvy mobster who possessed vast reserves of CASH MONEY due to effective loansharking practises. We will not speculate or report on how he spent this money, but rather we wish to ask where it went after his demise.

We believe it is the 80 million dollar question of this generation.

So far several theories have been whispered into our ear, which we will list to inform the public at large.

1: IT IS HIDDEN UNDERNEATH ONE OF THE TILES OF THE 12TH STREET PUBLIC TOILETS

We don't know where this rumour started from but it was provided to us by an anonymous source. This would be particularly tricky however as the entire 12th Street District is closed off due to the biohazard the aforementioned public toilets posed. But we welcome anyone who wishes to sneak past the military cordon of 12th Street and wants to try their hand at an excavation. At your own risk of course. Bring a gas mask.

2: AN UNKNOWN MOBSTER POCKETED THE CASH AFTER A GRAVEROB

It is very possible that the fortune was buried with the remains of the Chicago Godfather. We don't know who would have had the DISRESPECTFUL HUBRIS to rob this grave, but several names come to mind.

One suspect is feathered, the other a gambling addict. Another suspect is both.

3: THEBEAST ATE HIS FORTUNE THE NIGHT BEFORE HE DIED

This sounds a little wild, but it was a theory provided to use by an ex-member of The Asylum which lends it at least some credibility. The story goes something like this: The night before he retired TheBeast literally liquidated his 80 million dollar fortune into a chunky green soup and ate it. A dollar soup. Enriching his diet.

At first the soup in question was believed to be a pea soup (yuck) but after the discovery that the fortune was missing, the peas started being called into question and the rumour of the money soup started to circulate.

Can a man eat his fortune in a last act of rebellion? We don't know. Maybe. Probably.

A 𝕥𝕙𝕖 ℍ𝔸ℝ𝕆𝕃𝔻 SURVEY: MAKE YOUR VOICE HEARD

Do you want to make your voice heard to the editors of 𝕥𝕙𝕖 ℍ𝔸ℝ𝕆𝕃𝔻? Do you want to influence the direction of future issues? Do you enjoy answering questions? Do you like telling 𝕥𝕙𝕖 ℍ𝔸ℝ𝕆𝕃𝔻 what a terrible piece of shit it is?

Boy do we have the perfect opportunity for you! Please take this form and return it to us within a week:

FORM

In the next issue we'll publish and discuss the results.

The official 𝕥𝕙𝕖 ℍ𝔸ℝ𝕆𝕃𝔻 survey has been up for mere hours and already there is a response with a threat to blow up my printing-press filled basement if I don't pay the lump sum of 25 million dollarydoos to an anonymous postal box within 5 days. And here I thought the enemies of The Free Press were losing ground.

I don't know what this person was thinking since even though Journalism is a very spiritually fulfilling vocation, its monetary aspect leaves something to be desired. It's simply a ransom I cannot afford to pay. I'm willing to settle this ordeal for 2 million if the threatmaker approaches me in public. I might even throw in a pickpocketing guide as a show of good will.

I may know the identity of the suspect but I'll only part with this information for 25 million dollars.

Shut the fuck up Rhys no one asked you to come out here like this. Man, you're so annoying sometimes. I don't even care about anything going on right now but why do you have to even go talking? I bet you don't know anything. You definitely don't know what's going on and you definitely can't say who did it.

Dude just walk away.

Puffs out his chest like a pretty decent amount, its intimidating.

Just walk away.

Rhys runs back to his mansion in Chicago (the big one)

Holy hell that was scary

What a very sad turn of events. Could this have been prevented? Was Harold pressured into fighting a duel that he could not win in a vain attempt to get out of paying the exorbitant fees that came with the ransom? He was under a whole lot of pressure to not only write these exceptionally average newspapers, but to also handle the fast paced and oft times unfair mob where everyone was out for themselves and only wanted one thing: Money, or maybe I am just projecting my own lifestyle onto the rest of us.

Even so, this is a stark reminder that even a below average journalist who never could find out who was attempting to swindle him for millions can sometimes strike up a conversation that would intrigue everyone. Sadly this was not Harold, and so no one really cared, which may be why he turned to a fake duel where he fake died.

I have good evidence that Harold, in fact, still lives and that his gun had the true bullets replaced with rubber ones. Evidence that I will one day show, but for now I am keeping in my back pocket. All that I can say, openly, unequivocally and without hesitation is that this was a very low tier paper that I wouldn't even wipe my ass with.

The duck surveyed the area to see if anyone was getting upset by what he was saying, and a coy smile wrapped around his beak. Like a hunter setting out a trap for his prey, so too would he capture the new Harold-- this man would not walk away unscathed without paying out for his insurance, he would make sure of it.

Or he'd give up really fast. Who knows?

Anyways, that's all I had to say about this SHITTY newspaper. I hope no one gets mad and comes out here to defend it or anything, because that's the last thing that I want. Honestly, I just wanted to speak my mind that I HATE HATE HATE this paper and anyone who ever wrote for it. That's all. I'm just going to sit here for a while.

Quickly the duck dipped away into the shadows, replacing himself with a decoy duck out of fear for his own safety. While the hunt was on, he had to be careful that he wasn't shot down from the skies.

Was the survey incorrectly interpreted to be a Comptetitive Writing Competition since survey-participants (entrants) submit survey responses (compete against each other) to make their voice heard (get the prize of influence)?

Is this why my handsome father lies dead before us, covered in ink and stray feathers?

I don't know. Does anyone really?

If Harold hadn't been a Made Man I'd stand here and proclaim him to be a soggy loaf of a man, a spineless jellyfish, a turd too slippery to flush. If is therefore no wonder he was tricked into a duel.

As it was, he was a Made Man so I will be more respectful. He wrote a quarter decent paper and was a strong advocate of cheese. For that I respect him. 

He will be missed.

So far there have been 9 submissions for the survey, with only a single terroristic threat contained among them!!!

Surely these are record-breaking numbers.

My father always said that about 1% of any given audience bothers to fill in a survey when given the opportunity to do so, unless there is a prize involved, then the percentage jumps up to about 3% (however we did not dare to add any prizes to this survey in fear of being bossed around by The Competition Commission).

Considering this was a prize-less survey that would mean that we have a loyal reader base of about 900 mobsters strong. Impressive numbers, considering this is a newspaper focused on dragging out the guts of the criminal underworld, a somewhat niche subject.

If my pops, JournalistHarold, was still around he would have been proud to see the mafia-proletariat come out in droves to read his publications. Rest in Peace. Amen.

StandbyJudgeHarold , what is this nonsense you're spouting?

I knew your father well, he was a good man. Many wouldn't give him the time of day but I did and allowed him to set up in the very same dirty hellhole that is our basement - your current abode. 

He would not have have tolerated this kind of rubbish from anyone else, let alone his own kin. 

Up your game, son. 

Boyarsky picked up a newspaper, but he didn't read it, he quickly folded it into a hat and went on about his day cause if he wanted to hear the ramblings of crazy people he would just walk down to the psych asylum and strike up a conversation with one of the inmates there, preferably one of the ones wearing a straitjacket.

TheWanderingJew now of course I respect your opinion, my foreskinless Don, but I am going to have to ask you to be a more specific in your criticisms so that I can take it to heart and make optimal use of it.

Was it my MATHEMATICALLY FACTUAL mathematical models? I'll have you know that I have a mathematician on my payroll who worked this out for me. I have never known a mathematician to be incorrect. They're number wizards.

I'd also highly encourage you to fill in the survey.

Seeing Boyarsky waddle off with his newfound hat StandbyJudgeHarold furrows his monobrow, lost in thought. Eventually he calls out to Boyarsky from behind.

Boyarsky this newspaper hat idea is highly innovative! Journalism Copyright law states that my newspaper and any derivative works are my intellectual property, which would make the newspaper hat concept also mine by law.

I am going to start selling them at a dollar a piece.

Thanks, son.

Boyarsky turns around and drops a envelope with 20 000 dollars in it at the news stand before walking away with his hat.

"There I have paid for every future hat I might make with your paper sir."

With that he vanishes into the crowd.

Boyarsky your recent purchase has started to raise suspicion of money laundering with our accountants. 

I kindly request that you take all 20,000 hats that you have now purchased. I am more than willing to lend you a wheelbarrow for $20,000 a day until you have moved them all. Alternatively you could stack them all on your head and hope it doesn't get windy. 

Hey, so I've not been keeping up with this, but has anyone found out who sent out that bomb threat yet? That scoundrel really slowed down the presses, didn't he? I'm starting to think that Harold should have just paid the man and maybe he'd not be relying on his deadbeat son who still hasn't come out with the next edition, but what do I know? I've just been casually keeping up with this so I don't even really understand what's going on here.

Scrooge pulls out a super expensive pipe and twirls it around a few times, his proof of decadence was out on full display while talking to the commoners and rabble who enjoyed this sort of light reading material. He'd use it as toilet paper in his home, but it wasn't nearly golden enough for his liking.

I think you should stop looking into that angle and just pay the man, really. Is it worth losing everything? There's also still my insurance if you want to use it, someone who owns such a notorious business should always be worried-- if not bombs, well, someone might burn the whole thing down. It's so easy to light a few matches and throw them into someone's home, you know? Almost too easy... I'm surprised it isn't done more, honestly? Not that I'd ever do it. Just noting how easy it'd be.

Wedge a few things in between the doors so they can't get out easily, set the place on fire... anything can happen in the day and age, sadly, which is why I came up with my insurance idea in the first place. I'm looking for a few investors if anyone around here wants to join in and give it a go? No one? Well, think about it. You never really do know.

Scrooge throws a lighter into the air a few times while staring in the direction of Harold. These things are so very dangerous, sorry, I'll put it away. For now. Just think about things. Please?

ScroogeMcDuck worry not, we are currently compiling the results of the survey and will publish them somewhere this week, depending on how quickly I can get TheWanderingJew's basement cleaned and refurnished with printing presses again.

When TheWanderingJew said

but I did and allowed him to set up in the very same dirty hellhole that is our basement - your current abode. 

he meant "hellhole" quite literally. The basement was set alight upon my father's demise as a sort of farewell bonfire while the members of The Circumcised Criminals were drinking themselves into a coma and reminiscing on their favourite news articles to mourn their loss.

When I came to claim the basement again as JournalistHarold's son, I was told to clean up the place myself. There were a lot of ashes, a lot of burnt rat corpses and I even encountered the cremated body of a forgotten intern in there. It wasn't pretty. I haven't slept particularly well ever since.

Once I've compiled the survey-results we'll also report in detail on the threats that were made, along with a list of potential suspects. I think the result might surprise your felonious feathered figure.

Thank you for your fast and always reliable response on this matter, I am gritting my teeth and holding my breath that you find who is responsible for such terrible threats. I am really curious to see if you find the right person, because it is important to me to know if you're right or wrong on this matter. Very, very important.

I hate to point feathers, but you seem to have a lot of enemies. Nearly too many to count, and I really think you should try buying one of my time share resorts out in the Appalachia Mountains. Nothing like some time out in the good outdoors in a ten bedroom, six and a half bathroom resort on top of a long and windy mountain road.

Very few people would know where you are, in fact, except for me and my most trusted of advisors, all of which only care about your safety first and foremost. I'd never hold you ransom up there or anything, and I would look down on any person that would assume that this is what I want to do in the first place. I need to make sure that I am very clear:

I do not want to ransom you off for $25,000,000. That is the LAST THING that I would do if you accepted this offer. So, what do you say? Going to put your life in my hands, good man?

Scrooge extended his hand towards Harold and flashed off the slimiest of grins, waiting for a good old fashioned handshake agreement to take form, which as everyone knows is as good as getting something down in writing.