TomJoad, HuffinDuster, Hush ... Who? Haven't heard from them in a long time. Sorry, your family no longer maintains the clout to do business here. Tell your bosses that their lack of active public persona is really hindering their entire family.

Things had been rough now for quite some time, to the outside viewer, The Loop seemed calm and profitable, on the inside however, things had taken a turn for the worse, drugs were off the menu, a win against the Durdens was a distant memory and the gap between king of the rats was wider than a hydrated Ragnarok.

TomJoad spent his time wandering around the HQ asking terrified goomba’s if they’d seen his duelbot. Huffin had long since gone awol, nobody had really seen him since he’d taken a crate of Blue Chews off into the darkness, some say he spends the nights haunting Father_OMalley’s confessional booth but that’s between them. Hush’s goings on might’ve been the scariest of all, he was being… nice, to everyone. What. The. Fuck.

You probably know where this is going, I was looking for an out, the brains over in South Side, Quotas, had flirted the idea in the coffee shop when he sensed my discontent. As it turned out, Bob, was all too happy to meet, a genial kind mild mannered man, he spent his afternoons wandering around his sandpit looking at blue prints for a kitchen table that Rue had so desperately desired, Quotas wouldn’t authorise a new one, he was a little tight with the purse strings, not the most generous fellow.

The meeting with Bob was more vanilla than Philadelphia’s street presence, I’d nearly forgotten why I was there to begin with, at the end I only had one question, that I’d be able to sell my heroin without constraints, Bob looked at me confused, his mouth hung open at an angle his spirit level couldn’t read and that’s when he uttered the fateful words that stopped South Side becoming my new home, ‘You guys sell drugs over there?’ I smiled and politely excused myself, I headed straight for the exit gates only stopping to see Quotas rolling around in a pile of dollar bills.

My next stop was DT, that as it turned out, was a major bust from the moment I stepped over UglyInbredGeorge’s unconscious body and knocked on the doors of the HQ, a voice crackled through a rusted baked bean tin on a string, ‘whaddya want?’ It sounded like MongolMo but him and Simon always did sound alike, ‘it’s Jim Casy, I was wondering if I could…’ A loud unintelligible expletive of some kind hissed back, ‘Fuc.. is this about Monarch? I don’t need to hear any more about how shit he is okay, he juggles my b.a.l.l.s and that’s all I care ab..’ alarmed I interjected ‘No, no, forget it, doesn’t matter I’ll be going’. I hurried back to the airport, I wasn’t straying further, it felt like it could only get worse, I sighed, looked at my pocket watch and figured I’d head back to Chi so I could fail to steal from another art gallery, courtesy of Meltdown.

Meltdown stops to listen to JimCasy. What in the hell is he talking about? Allow me to give the facts of this mornings utter failures. Yes failures! I invited Jim along to hit up an art gallery. We were just about at our destination when Jim starts taking his clothes off. He stripped down to his socks. 

"What in the hell are you doing?"

He responds, "I didn't have breakfast yet."

"Good Lord, I thought you got help from Father_OMalley with that rather peculiar behavior."

"Why you cannot be normal and eat with your clothes on?"

Riding along we stumble into a road block. Before I could turn onto the detour route, sirens were blasting from behind. We were nabbed before we reached our destination. Nearly an hour later citations were handed to the both of us.  

"Jim, look what you have done! We are going to have to locate another gallery."

Jim tells me there is an art gallery next door to his favorite pub and we have an hour to get in and out before they open up. Familiar with the area we head on over in that direction.

As soon as I parked, Jim hopped out the car and said he will return in five minutes. He entered the pub. Fifteen minutes pass. I enter the pub. The lighting was very dim. I could hear shouting coming from the back. I can hear Jim's voice screaming, "I'll leave when I am done."

Two men appeared, dragging a naked Jim out of the bathroom. 

They escorted him to the front door and tossed his naked ass out onto the sidewalk. 

We jumped into the car. 

"Why were you naked again?"

Jim answers calmly, "I had to shave."

"Look at your face. You cannot even do that right!" 

Once again too much attention was drawn to us to even stand a chance of success. I am going to have a word with TomJoad about striiping Jim of his Senior Advisor position. 

As we pull up to the Headquarters I spotted @BobTheBuider hammering away. 

"Get out Jim. I need to find some wall coverings today!" 

Bob agrees to come along for my third attempt of the day. We head right on over to the gallery next to the pub. Within two minutes I had a spectacular Norman Rockwell painting and Bob was holding what looked like some original pop art paintings.