It had been a long week for Don Al. He'd just finished the busier half and it was time for a bit of rest and relaxation, or he'd hoped. The back of his hand was especially sore this week, some of the whores down the house were stepping out of line and Al was fucking sick of their shit. It was understandable really - Sisu was not the best tipper so Al often expected a few complaints from his bitches - and on most days, he'd chuck 'em a little extra to keep 'em quiet, it was just easier that way. But he was tired and worn out this week, so he didn't give a fuck - instead he chucked them a few slaps to keep them in line. They got what they deserved! 

  *SLAP*  *SLAP*  *SLAP*

If truth be told, it was all an act. He was really a bleeding heart and the guilt would always creep in eventually. But he couldn't let them know that! What sort of damage would that do to his reputation? Big Psycho Al upset over a few bitches tears? No no, that couldn't be right!

He was thinking too much again and that was sure to land him in hot water. The last time his brain started picking up speed and making rotations like a helicopter propeller, poor old Jonesy paid the price - five fucking toes! Expensive. He was sure Felson's eye was still twitching from that interaction and he didn't want to break yet another poor kid. Deep down he was still mourning the loss of little Frank, maybe he should go easy on this one. He was trying his best.

Don Al decided a quiet, long drive was what he needed. It wasn't quite the same without Bert, but a solo drive had it's advantages. It usually helped him clear his fucked up head for a little while so although the first 20 minutes of his drive was spent reminiscing Bert and their crazy shenanigans, he'd soon beat the fight against the tears and moved on to the next of the myriad of issues spinning around in his head.

"You know what I fuckin' need..." Al spoke aloud to himself, that's normal right? "I need some more of that fuckin' weed." He sighed.

"Nah, you're not a fucking crackhead, Al. You're a fucking Don... We sell drugs, we don't take 'em, you fucking idiot. Sort ya fucking head out." 

He often argued with himself and somehow still managed to lose more than he won. At least there was no one nearby to lose with him. He chuckles to himself - what sort of doughnut can lose an imaginary game? He shakes his head and rolls his eyes. He just did.

The night was crisp and cold, he wasn't keen on the winter months, he hated wrapping up like a turkey but at this old age it was especially important to keep the bones warm. He hated the summer months even more however - he couldn't stand his skin being covered in a film of sweat and he was far too busy of a man to sit behind a fan keeping cool all day. Rain or shine, he was out in the streets, slapping bitches, kissing babies and shaking hands. So long as he didn't mix them up and start shaking babies and kissing bitches, he was all good. Don Al had started to garner a reputation as the best mobster of our life, it was important he got out there to ensure his legacy remained alive! He was excited to get back to that corner of the street at a later time but for right now, he must stay on task. 

Al banged the steering wheel in frustration. "Shut up, brain! Shut up, shut up, shut up!" He spun the steering wheel left, then right, then left again.

"You think I won't throw us BOTH into the wall?!" Al gritted his teeth, threatening himself. "I'LL FUCKIN' DO IT. I'LL FUCKIN' END YOU HERE IF YOU DON'T SHUT THE FUCK UP, CUNT."

Al grew further frustrated with his inability to keep track and suddenly threw the car into a U-turn.

"Right... Fuck it. Maybe I am a fucking crackhead." He slammed his foot on the throttle and boots it through the streets of Philadelphia. The street lights were bouncing off of his face intermittently as they whizz by at speed. He continued to argue.

"Who even gives a shit?! We'll all be dead soon and none of this will even matter. So fucking what if I do some drugs here and there... It's all good, right? All's fair in love and war!" He began to convince himself. Typical crackhead behaviour. But Al was not a crackhead!

His train of thought was interrupted by yet another mental road block. "What's Transistor gonna say? It took months to finally get the bossman to stop harping on about Al's near-miss with the cocaine..." Al pondered.

If Frank hadn't mysteriously disappeared like he did, there was a good chance Al would've ended up falling into the spiral of cocaine addiction. Transistor was not at all happy when he learned the pair had been raiding his stash - not that he said it directly. The Godfather had a way of moving the pieces on his board around without ever touching them directly. He was a tricky old mobster and perfectly suited for this position. It took a clever man to handle crazy Al without causing psycho Al to walk in your front room with a shotgun and put a hole in your belly. Transistor seemed to have mastered that ability - and not just with Al. He was a clever man indeed. 

"Nah, the old man loves weed... Right?" Al rubbed his chin, unsure. "Yeah, but Al... You're not just any mobster. You're a fucking animal. First it's a joint, then it's a couple bowls... And before you know it, you'll be unable to climb out of bed without costing the boss a month's supply. C'mon Al... Do you really wanna create them sorts of problems? Do you really wanna disappear like Frank?" Al sighed. He wasn't overly sure what happened to that kid, but he was convinced the boss had some involvement. It all seemed a little fucking weird to him...

"Nah, fuck him. Fuck the big guy. It ain't nothing to do with him anyway! I'LL sort my supply. And if he don't like it..." Al gritted his teeth and continued to race through the streets in his new bright yellow VW Beetle. It wasn't the motor he'd expected for himself honestly, but he'd really grown very attached. What a beautiful little creature she was! 

Al began to cackle as the engine roared, expelling the thought of angering the boss and overcome by excitement, he rubbed the steering wheel. "What a fucking beauty, I fucking love you Beetle... I think you need a name." Al pondered.

While his brain toyed with what to call his new-found love, Al had a brainwave. Maybe he could find a way to source his drugs without the boss ever finding out. With that thought in mind, he decided it was time to stop driving around in squares and chucked the next right, headed for his beautiful home that was South Philly.

"I think we'll call you Betty." Al smiled, gripping the steering wheel with affection. "And Betty when I call you... You can call me Al."

Betty was no Bert, but it was nice for him to feel love again. He'd been lonely since that big, beautiful bastard parked a little too close to that cop car. Not anyway... Al didn't need to feel lonely anymore. He had Betty. Beautiful Betty.

Al releases a sigh of love, "Okay, Betty... Come on then. Let's go sort this shit out before brain decides we're angry again."

He reached for the dial on the radio and continued the journey nodding along to a bit of music.

It wasn't long before Al and Betty pulled up outside of Prime HQ - he looked up at the large building with awe. There really was a lot of beautiful architecture in their corner of town. It was late at this point, but he didn't really understand social etiquette. If Al's awake, everyone must be awake - he had no real consideration beyond that which certainly landed him in some trouble during bank jobs, but fortunately he had Goombas to do that shit for him these days.

He hopped out of the car and steps back, taking a moment to look over his new beauty, sighing dreamily.

"God, I love you Betty." He peered over his shoulders, hoping no one spots him falling in love with a car. He really didn't want to get blood on her back seat so early on. Jonesy had already bled all over the pedal with his horrible, manky foot. He didn't mind the blood so much, he'd grown quite accustomed to getting that shit out. But he fucking hated feet - why did he have to fuck with the feet?! Idiot! He shuddered and shook the thought.

"We're gonna have a lot of amazing adventures, Betty. I can feel it! This was meant to be!" He ran his hand down the curvature of her body, sliding his finger around the rim of her large round headlight before gripping the bar fixed against her face and giving it a tug, testing her suspension.

"Steady as a fucking rock, you girl." He grinned, beaming with pride.

"Alright Al... Come on." He was all loved out, it was time to get into some serious business.

He made his way to the large front door, giving it a shove as he enters.

"Hello?!" He called out an echo before glancing his watch. "Oh.. Kinda late, huh..."

Al wandered into the kitchen still whistling the tune he'd listened to on his journey and begun to dig around the cupboards hoping to rustle up a snack for himself. All that brain activity had made him rather peckish and he knew just what he fancied! It didn't take long to prepare - Al was not a patient man in any capacity and it certainly rang true when it came to food. But he'd become a talent at preparing quick, easy food and Prime HQ had exactly the ingredients he required!

"Bread." Al grabbed the loaf and continued scanning. "Butter - not in the fridge!" Al nodded, much impressed. "Baked beans." His excitement grew. Wait... Would they have the finishing touch? He rushed over to the fridge, ripping it open in great anticipation. "CHEESE! THEY HAVE CHEESE!" Al jumped for joy.

New found love Betty... Beans on toast for dinner... This truly was Al's fucking day! 

He leaned in to grab the cheese, suddenly startled by a horrifying sight. What the fuck was that? Right next to the cheese... Surely not... What the fuck was that doing in here? He couldn't contain his disgust, blurting aloud. "EGGS?! IN THE FRIDGE?!" Al growled. Fucking weirdos.

His hunger was distracting, drawing him back to the extreme culinary achievement of preparing his beans on toast - WITH CHEESE! He took it through to the main room to enjoy in comfort on Alexa's guest sofa. After his meal, he belched with satisfaction and enjoyed his usual post-meal cigar. Soon after, he'd fallen asleep. Turns out Al was spending the night.

Red?

Felson held up the cloth in front of his chest and let it dangle. It unrolled and hung between him and the mirror, under his chin.

Yellow?

He flipped the piece of rough edged fabric around, showing the other colour behind it. They were similar in length but both were just bits of fabric right now, nothing compared to what they could be with a little finesse from a great tailor. Swii had put together a nice suit for Felson's promotion into the Prime inner circle. The guy was a menace with needle and thread and if Mickie didn't witness the process himself he wouldn't have believed it.

Red?

Felson flipped the bits of fabric again. He was umming and ahing with his facial expressions with each check in the tall stand alone mirror. Yellow was too.. yellow. Red? Yeah. Red could work.

"Fuc. Yes. Boy!"

The yellow piece was tossed into a basket that had other bits and bobs, including more fabrics of various sizes and colours, all rejected in the process of finding the right combinations. They all had to work together, harmoniously, and bring out the best in each other... Just like the super secret squad that was rumoured to be forming.

The chosen piece for his vest was slung over the end of the bed, next to a pair of green shorts and some leggings. He'd visit Swii in a day or so and let him work his magic. For now, he still had some work to do if he wanted to be ready when he got the call.

Michael walked out of his room and took a turn towards the back of the mansion-like building. His room was big and he practically had everything he needed, but he missed the comradery of living shoulder to shoulder with his brothers in arms. The place felt a little empty at times, and the echoing of his footsteps through the halls as he walked.. echoed that sentiment.

Down the hall, down a winding staircase, across a foyer and into the kitchen he lumbered. On the way through he grabbed himself a jam and cheese sandwich. Jonesy, a British lad he served with told him about this oddball combination. Sweet, but cheddary. Notbad, Felson thought as he walked past the dining area. He glanced at the table, remembering Swii having to patch up a gunwound he sustained during one of his earlier fuck-ups. He bled so much that day he thought he'd done one of those transitions and got his period. He luckily didn't die, but he definitely took the pain like a pussy.

Finally, out through open double doors and Felson's feet hit the beginnings of a concreted outside area. He wasn't stopping though and kept it moving, petting Max as the excited dog bounced around his legs, barking and wagging his stubby tail. Onto the grass he walked, eventually catching on to Max's interest in his sandwich. It was good, but not Vegemite on toast good, so he tossed it in the air to Max and strolled on.

After aimlessly walking the beautifully kept grounds, Felson paused to light a joint. He looked skywards, letting smoke drift up and away, the warmth of the sun washing over him, only elevated more by the effects of the sativa strain marijuana. He closed his eyes and reveled in the moment. He felt the grass under his feet as he wiggled his toes and the sun splashed its unconditional blessings onto his face and neck.

Max barked, breaking Michael's concentration. He was in another part of the backyard chasing birds. Felson caught a glimpse of him sitting near a fence, which had a small group of Ruby-Throated hummers perched on it. It looked like they were talking to each other, the birds chirping, Max barking his approval, or not, but neither seemed out of place. Felson smiled, his eyes a little heavier and reddened, then kept it moving towards the greenhouse.

Inside, the space was filled with pots and gardening supplies. Some pots were being used, and some of those being used had seedlings while others housed taller and taller plants, and the tallest of them all needed strings to hold up some of their branches. Felson approached one of the tallest plants.

It was a healthy green, head to roots, with large green leaves. Some near the top had a tinge of yellow but Felson had made sure the soil PH levels weren't the cause. He wasn't sure yet, but he hoped it was just growing pains and it wouldn't affect the end result. It wasn't long now and he'd need to adjust the light cycle, but for now, he was happy with the vegetation it was producing. He took a leaf in hand, feeling over its bumpy texture, then picked up a watering can and got to feeding it and the others within the greenhouse. This plant was the furthest along and the first he planted, but he had many others on the go to germinate at different periods, to hopefully always have plants in its various growth cycles. It made sense, since he wasn't the only one chasing the devil's lettuce in South Philly these days.

+++

Felson opened his eyes. He was parched, his lips were dry and his stomach was grumbling. He stretched his arms out wide, yawning himself into a more awake state.

Shit. How'd it get so dark? He thought.

He was relaxed but also a little slow to move. He rubbed his eyes. It took a moment for his thoughts to slow and quiet down, and when he no longer felt like he was simply playing events in his mind that weren't actually happening, he dragged himself out of the beanbag and started moving again.

Outside the greenhouse, Felson looked skywards. He could see the night's satellite was still visible but dawn was close to breaking, and even with the sun out of sight, its light was already stretching its influence and pushing morning to the fore.

There was a fresh, grassy smell in the air. Off in the distance the HQ groundsman was wielding some kind of power tool. Felson scratched his balls as he walked the grassy path back towards the main building, hoping there was some more cheese left.

"EGGS?! IN THE FRIDGE?!"

Alexa heard the commotion punctuated by Albino’s exclamation as she finished up her business in her office. Stepping out into the foyer she caught a glimpse of Al stumbling towards the guest sofa. Of course the eggs were in the fridge, as they were pasteurized we were in America after all.

“Sleep tight sweet prince.” she whispered to herself softly before turning her attention to other matters.

She made her way to the storage room, where the family supplies were kept. Upon entering she noticed that one of the shelves was ajar. This was against protocol. Especially THAT shelf. A book was pulled forward “Prime and Prejudice”, a nod to the family and one that would stick out to those who knew what they were looking for. The handle to open the secret door that lay behind the shelf, into the inner sanctum of the supply closet where all the secrets of this outwardly facing white collar enterprise lay bare.

In short, it was the room with the drugs, money, and guns. Capital for any upstanding headquarters but one that must remain hidden from law enforcement and business partners unaware of the real inner workings of the company.

Alexa propped open the door and stepped through. At first nothing seemed amiss, there were the normal amount of contraband and riches. The guards sat around a poker table playing and smoking their cigars. One of them noticed Alexa watching and apologized for taking a break as a group. How long had they been playing? Were they even paying attention? If anything was wrong they’d likely be fired and they knew that. But it was typically uneventful to be in this part of the building. Very few people even knew it existed let along came by so these folks spent a lot of their time together and as such did things like this to drive the boredom away.

“The door was open. Has anyone been through?” she asked. But the guards were as shocked as she was. As they did a routine search of the place to see if anything had been disturbed that was when they noticed that a sizable amount of the stock of marijuana was missing. Strange.

Strange not because anything was missing, although atypical, but strange that specifically of all the things that could be missing here that this was it. This stuff was popular amongst the kids, and those looking for some recreation, but if you’re gonna take something why wouldn’t you take the gold, the cocaine, the guns… something didn’t sit right. This wasn’t a theft.

“We’re getting high on our own supply are we?” she thought to herself. That was the only explanation. But whoever was smoking this was smoking A LOT.

And they were not sharing!?

Alexa left the guards to clean up their mess and atone for their sins. Whoever was on door duty was told they were on thin ice and if any unauthorized access is noticed again he wouldn’t be fired, but he’d be fitted with a new pair of cement boots.

As Alexa emerged from the supply rooms dawn was beginning to creep out into the skyline outside of the windows. She looked out into the courtyard, and saw Felson relaxing outside of the greenhouse. As he made his way in Alexa walked by the sofa and caught a glimpse of Albino, out like a light. The faint smell of his culinary masterpiece still wafted through the air, but it wasn’t all she smelled.

Stepping into the kitchen there it was plain as day - an assortment of paraphernalia, joints, blunts, bowls, roach clips. The works. Right in the middle of the kitchen next an assortment of cheeses. The dots were starting to connect.

It was against protocol to leave things like this out in the open, but given how early it was it wasn’t going to be noticed by anyone important.

“Fuck it, I don’t need to get anything done today.”

The room turns into a cloud of smoke, as she joins in the fun on her own. Smoking and enjoying some smoked cheddar. Sometimes its nice to take a moment to relax and enjoy the spoils of your enterprises.

Al finally started to regain consciousness - a strong dank smell engulfing his nose while he shuffled around uncomfortably, still gathering his senses. He was too fucking old to be sleeping on sofas and had woke up with terrible back pain, accompanied by a terrible crick in his neck. He squinted his eyes in a feeble attempt to unblur his vision. It took a few attempts but slowly he began to see. As his vision became clear, the sudden realisation hit him. That wasn't his ceiling...

He startled awake and jolted upright, quickly reaching for some way to defend himself. He grabbed his plate from the floor next to him and lifted it beside his head ready to launch across the room before he eventually realised... He wasn't kidnapped, he'd just had a little sleepover. Close call!

Still not fully comfortable with his surroundings, he jumped at a noise heard from the kitchen - quickly reacting by throwing the plate across the room. Alexa's head peered round the doorway with a raised eyebrow.

"Err..." Al rubs his achy neck. "My bad."

Alexa giggled, rolling her eyes as she disappeared from view again.

It took Al some time to shake off the bad dreams he'd experienced before regaining consciousness - unfortunately just a typical night for him. He wasn't crazy by accident, the world really did torment him in as many ways as possible. If God was kind, this man was a product of Satan. 

He groaned as he slowly swung his legs round, touching his feet on the floor as an intrusive yawn escaped his mouth. The inhale filled his nose with that scent again... What a beautiful smell. His face lifted as he followed it, floating him to his feet and toward the kitchen while he attempted to run his fingers through his matted beard, falling on each foot in turn as he dragged his worn body through the doorway.

Upon entry, he glanced at Alexa looking extremely happy and droopy-eyed. Al chucked a nod which was reciprocated as he stumbled to the radio in the corner - switching it on and ensuring the volume wasn't too loud. He staggered to the other corner, finding a mug on the counter and not even checking if it was clean before filling it with coffee. Hygiene wasn't important. Caffeine was.

Al turned around to face Alexa but struggled to see her through the fog she'd created - his sleepy eyes only adding to the battle. He couldn't be sure if he was experiencing his usual morning brain fog or he was just second-hand high as fuck, but his brain was slow getting started. Alexa coughed out a plume of smoke before giggling and offering Al a toke. He thought for a moment before speaking. "Now?" Al glanced his watch. "It's a little early..?" 

Alexa giggled some more - Albino was convinced. He gently wandered towards her, sitting opposite at the table before accepting the joint.

"Fuck it... We'll all be dead soon and I don't think God will mind. It's all natural, eh?" He grinned, lifting the joint in the air before continuing. "Cheers, Al!" Al chuckled as he pulled from the joint.

A few moments later Felson appeared, seemingly out of nowhere - like some sort of fuc'ing superhero! Al grinned, looking over at his partner in crime heroism. 

"Heyyyy, that's a cracking new suit you're rocking there, Sunny!" Al nodded with excitement. "You look heaven-sent!" He took another pull from the joint before offering it to the dapper mobster. Holding his arm outstretched, Al fought back a cough and peered at Alexa. "Holy fuck, that's gonna knock me back out! Where the fuck did you get that shit, Al?!"

Felson stretched as he entered the open doors and walked back through the dining room. He was still in a bit of a haze when upon an inhale, he suddenly stopped. His arms were still stretched out from his sides, and the smell had him freeze in that pose a moment.

Huh?

Curious to know who was the cause, Felson resumed his morning ritual of nut scratching while he followed the scent, licking his dry lips and trying to ignore his stomach rumbles.

Into the kitchen he walked and immediately heard the radio and saw the two Al's sharing a morning pick me up. He nodded to both as he approached the bench and positioned himself near the dynamic duo, leaning onto the bench with his forearms and hands clasped together.

"Al" he said as he nodded to the long bearded and unusually placated Albino.

"Al" he repeated but with an appreciative smile towards Alexa.

"Cheese" he said as he reached towards the plate on the bench, taking a seat as he pulled it towards him. He cut off a thick slice and pushed the plate back towards the centre.

"Swii done it up for me," replied Felson as he glanced over the slice between his fingers, answering Albino's question about his suit. "That man needs a shop front."

There was a moment of silence. Both Al's looked a little weed baked and Felson was still a little dream baked.

"You know..."

Felson took a bite and chewed a little.

"I never would've thought it, but jam and cheese..."

He took a moment to swallow.

"They taste pretty damn good together."

Felson slapped the remainder of the cheese against the bench, as an uh huh moment hit.

"You know what else?!"

He stuffed the rest into his mouth and chewed a little quicker, both hungry for something to fill his gut and to get the epiphany out.

"You're kind of like cheese.." he said as he looked at Albino.

"You're a little old, kind of smelly sometimes but go down well with a glass of wine.."

Felson turned his attention to Alexa.

"And you're like jam. Kind of sweet, you know?" he said through a grin.

Then he suddenly rose from his seat as another thought slapped him upside his cranium. Albino was passing him the joint, which he took as he looked off into the distance.. which in the kitchen was the pantry.

"And I'm like the bread!" he said as his eyes widened, the inspiration for such an odd idea juicing his excitement.. and breakfast.

Felson took a puff of the joint then passed it over to Alexa. His eyes were still fixed on the kitchen pantry as she took the morning livener from him.

He didn't know why he was like the bread but in his sleepy, still awakening mind it made sense. He made his way over to the pantry, guided by his now grumbling and highly annoyed stomach.