He hesitated at the edge of the street, clutching the scuffed wooden soap box. With a glance toward the disinterested crowd he placed it down and climbed atop with a quiet breath. His shoulders hunched as if bracing against a Chicago wind that never came. Clearing his throat once, twice, he opened his mouth to speak, voice trembling just enough to be swallowed by the shuffle of passing feet and distant chatter. No one stopped. But he stayed standing.

You all know him well, he’s said to be quite a man, if he can’t fix it, Bob probably can. 

He served most of his time under Spike, our understanding is he never truly believed in the third reich. 

Since he never escaped to Argentina, let’s discuss his demeanour…

A kind man of few words, always chasin’ the ‘durds.

The reluctant leader and serial underachiever.

A swine in the shadows, sent most of our ancestry to the gallows. 

I highlight his devotion, not just because I want promotion.

 He means the world to us, a far cry from Hush. 

His right hand man is Duster, the best he could muster,

His efforts may certainly appear lacklustre, I assure you in crew chat he’s quite the thruster. 

Back to Ol’ Jode, a Don of old, a man of exceptional code, worthy of bold.

I truly hope you don’t die in your sleep, during rebuild mode.

Jim unsteady on his feet quietly dismounted from his soap box, he thought he’d leave it out in the street just in case anyone had anything they wanted to share about his beloved TomJoad. 

Thank you, Jim. That was beautiful.

Do you see that, Simon? I have a minstrel. Do you have a minstrel? I didn't fucking think so. Could you even afford one? Do you know what happened in Chicago yesterday? I had an Earner lose 100 million on a casino, and do you know what he said?

"Lol".

He said "lol", Simon, or something to that effect. I didn't really understand the Eastern European accent, but it sounded like "lol" or "lull" or "lolzy" or something like that. The point is, I could tell by the tone of his voice that he didn't give a piss about 100 million dollars. That's a Chicago EARNER, my swan-hating nemesis. Stay on top of your ledgers or one of them might be coming to buy you.

You can't even afford to feed your Ragnarok. Did you see our Ragnarok? Full size. The fat fuck puts away cakes like it's his birthday every goddamn day. Meanwhile, yours is digging banana peels out of trash cans. He should be careful that a strong wind doesn't catch him.

Oh, thanks again, Jim. Your talent is an inspiration to all Detroit members who want to reach their full potential by leaving Detroit and seeking employment with BobTheBuilder.

Another street corner, another porky dullard calling my name. Hello, TomJoad, fancy finding you here at this impromptu soapbox concert. Yes, I did see you have a minstrel. Congratulations. This must quite the honour for you, one of your own pointing out what has always been obvious to the rest of us that your efforts are lacklustre. At least they noticed you, I guess. Maybe if you spent less time thrusting in crew chat, whatever that means, and more time motivating them, you might eventually see one recognised as a VIP alongside you, if you can consider....scrolls down towards the bottom of the list...oof #12 as a VIP. 

Anyway, as much as I enjoy sharing in the calamitous failures of Chicago, the Wile E. Coyotes of the Mafia world, I best take my leave. I don't have anything particularly important to do, I just don't like talking to you.