Corporate Al stood outside Prime HQ, looking up at the large building deep within the bowels of South Philly. He tucked his clipboard under his arm, freeing his hands to straighten his tie and dust off his black suit jacket. The company man peered into the window of a nearby car ensuring his beautiful long beard was tidy and his sharp eyebrows were pointed. He chucked himself a wink and clicked his tongue. "You beautiful bastard." Al pulled the clipboard out from under his arm and marched up the steps, clearing his throat before pushing open the heavy door with a squeak.

"Good evening, everyone! Godfather Transistor sent me." Upon entry, he immediately noticed how quiet the place was. He peered around the immediate vicinity, noticing a couple of low ranks curled up on the couch fast asleep. "Hmmm." Not a good start.

Al turned and slammed the door closed, hoping to stir some activity. One of the youngsters jumped awake and glared at Al in confusion. "Who are you?" The little punk blurted out.

"I'm your worst fucking nightmare. Now get your lazy, good-for-nothing ass up and tell Don Alexa Al's arrived." Al barked. It took the young associate a moment to heed his advice but he soon scurried off to find the boss. "And you wake the fuck up!" Al leaned over the second sleeper and smacked them on the head with his clipboard. They woke up in a panic, rushing off to the bathroom as a dribble of piss began to run down their leg.

"Fucking embarrassing..." The Don began wandering around the first room, wiping his finger over the wooden furniture as he checked for dust, taking the occasional sniff of his finger for deeper inspection. He walked over to the table sat in the corner of the room, pressing his weight against the top of it before pulling a pen out from behind his ear and scratching a '7' onto the first line of the page on his clipboard. As he lifted his head to continue his review, Don Alexa appeared from the next room. "Al!" She smiled, throwing her arms out for an embrace.

Serious Al switched his pose and became Family Al, reciprocating the hug. As they broke apart, Al glared at the pair of underlings who were struck dumb as they stared, attempting to understand what was happening. "Don't you have shit to do? Fuck off, we're clearly having a conversation." He switched back to serious for a moment.

With the pair now alone, Al relaxed once more, "Hey Al, you're looking great - are you well?" He quizzed. "I know it's been a rough day, but the boss sent me over. Gotta make sure everything copasetic - I hope you understand..." Al threw his arms into a shrug. "Boss gotta be the boss, y'know? He's got a tornado of shit to deal with right now..."

"Oh, don't you worry, Al! I totally get it... He gave me the heads up. Consider yourself at home while you're here. Let me know if you need anything. I'll send Felson down to help you out." Female Al beamed a smile to which male Al responded in kind before female Al rushed off to continue unravelling her own share of the shitstorm.

Al continued to survey the room, lifting up ornaments and juggling them in his hands to feel their weight, occasionally pausing his analysis to mark down the scores he attributed to each assessment made. It wasn't long until Felson arrived scratching his balls with his eyes looking heavy and glazed as they so often did.

"Ah, Michael - perfect." Al grinned as a confused Felson raised an eyebrow. "We're on official business today, Michael - so pay attention. I'm Left Hand Man around here right now... You know what that means? That means I'm important!" He waved his hand for Felson to follow him as he patrolled back over to the table in the corner.

"This table... It feels sturdy - looks like a good table by all accounts." Al leaned down, tapping one of the legs before looking back at Felson. "Four legs - it seems great... But have you guys considered five?" 

Felson took a few steps closer, leaning his head forward before questioning. "Five... table legs?" 

"Yes - five table legs. This place has had it's issues recently, as I'm sure you're aware. I mean... You did see what happened, right?" Al's attitude was obvious. "The boss wants no more fuck ups... So let's just make this easy, shall we? I'll do what I need to do - I'll ask some questions, you answer them and help me get this done ASAP, then we can both get back to running around in spandex. But for right now..." Al lifted the clipboard in the air and gave it a shake. "The clipboard's in charge. Understand?"

Felson rubbed his neck. "Sure... Five table legs. Sounds... solid?" He shrugged.

Al grinned, pleased he was playing along - he could always count on Felson. "Perfect." He marked an extra note on the page of his clipboard before wandering back to the front door. He opened it up slowly, causing a slow, screeching squeak before looking over at Felson. "You hear that..?" He pushed the door back to, squinting his eyes as another groaning creak echoed through the room. Then he swung the door back-and-forth a few times, shaking his head with disgust. "That's no good."

Slamming the door closed once more, he rested his clipboard against it, muttering to himself as he jotted on the sheet of paper. "Door.... hinge.... fucked." He forced out a deep sigh, using the back of the pen to scratch beside his ear as he closed his eyes with impatience and tapped the end of the pen on his forehead. "I think we're gonna be here a while..." He sighed once more, looking back over at the Prime mobster.

"Alright Michael... Can you take us through to the kitchen? We need to check the taps."

The Prime mobster had his hands on his hips as he arched his back, yawning. He then lifted his left knee to chest and grabbed it with both hands, held it for a few seconds then did the same with h his right.

After cracking both sides of his neck, Felson nodded and waved Albino through the wooden swinging doors into the kitchen.

One second Felson was in some jeans and a plain t-shirt, the next he was in exactly the same attire as Corporate Al. He even had a clipboard.

"Yeah look, JUST look at this list!"

Felson slammed the clipboard against the wall.

"Disgusting!"

He paused, took a conscious moment to breathe, held the breath, then slowly exhaled.

"But we'll get through it 'cause time is money and money doesn't wipe its own ass! Know what I mean?"

Next to Felson, at his ankles, was a cat. It was also dressed in the same attire as Corporate Al.

Felson guided the trio towards the island style kitchen bench. The cat jumped up onto it.

"Isn't this suppose to be a fucking whatever the fuck?"

Felson stabbed on the clipboard with his biro, angrily tearing a hole through the piece of paper with the metal tip where the item 'Wheres the fucking sand?' use to be.

"FAIL."

He pointed the pen down at the floor.

"And the floorboards?"

He looked at Albino, the cat, his clipboard and put a big fat strike through 'Does it feel like I'm floating, bitch?!'

"FAIL!"

The cat smacked a cup of coffee off the bench. It smashed against the wall.

"MEW!"

"Exactly! The missing taps are the least of our worries!"

Felson waved them on and walked towards the door leading into the next room. He turned, faced the wall next to it and tried putting his fist right through it. It didn't puncture through at first, but after the seventh try he'd dug a hole. 

Felson then lifted his right foot and tried booting a second hole into the wall below it. His steel cap boots only took five attempts to split through the wood and get stuck. He looked back over his shoulder at Al.

"Now, I don't mean to be overly critical here, but a breeze could easily get in and who knows where that could lead!"

He dug his foot out of the hole and kicked the hole into to an even bigger hole, ten more times. He tugged his foot free, turned, slicked back his hair then put his hands on his hips as he leaned his weight onto his back foot. He was breathing heavily.

"Honestly, I didn't even know you were coming today, Al."

Felson had been stealing Albino's mail for weeks. He removed a puffer, sucked in a few sprays then slid it away again.

"It's just a shame I couldn't get the place more in order for you, and of course, the big guy, you know?  I blame myself really. Good old Mickie Felson! Dropping the ball again! WHAT A DICKHEAD!"

Felson laughed himself into a frenzy. He paused, cleared his throat, tugged down on the bottom of his suit jacket as he stood up straight, then opened the door to the bathroom for the company man.

"Now you might notice..."