You unlock this door with the key of imagination. Beyond it is another dimension - a dimension of sound, a dimension of sight, a dimension of mind. You're moving into a land of both shadow and substance, of things and ideas. You've just crossed over into The Mafia Zone.

Submitted for your approval . . . a young fresh face boy arriving off the farm into the big city seeking his fortune.  He thinks he’s in a normal American city.  What he doesn’t know is he is about to enter The Mafia Zone.

Zoom!  Whoosh!  BEEP BEEP!  Jimmy stepped back onto the curb after almost being run over by one of those new Packards.  He had seen this many people, cars, buildings or anything like this back home in Nebraska.  He decided he’d try to find a flophouse to stay in that didn’t involve crossing the streets.  He passed a dark alley and tried to hurry past it, but a man in a trench coat grabbed him.

“Hey, buddy” the man said gruffly “You wanna make some money?  Do a job for me?”

“Oh, no sir!  No thank you, sir.  My mother made me promise not to fall into a bad crowd and stay a law abiding citizen.  Sorry, sir.”

The strange man let go of Jimmy.  He ran off as fast he could, almost knocking over a woman of ill-repute.  “Gosh!  I’m sorry, ma’am.”

”No worries, sweetie.  You want to go on a date?”

“Will we dance on the date?  Gotta dance on a date.  Definitely!”

“Hey, honey, it’s your dollar!”

“I don’t think my mother would approve.  I’m sorry.”  Jimmy scurried off again and ran into a policeman.  “Excuse me, officer, I didn’t . . .”

“Oh no, boyo” said the officer while twirling his baton, “think nothing of it.  I noticed you saying ‘no’ to those sinners back there!  Be a good lad, and stay away from them.  You’ll be fine here.”

Jimmy found a place to stay for cheap, and for the first few days, things went okay.  The rougher and disreputable elements of the city all seemed to ignore him.  They just checked their pocket watches when he walked near them.  After a week, Jimmy realized he was running low on his savings so he set out to find a job.  He walked into Reynaldo’s Insurance Agency.  Reynaldo himself gave the interview.  After finding out that Jimmy had resisted all the vice the big city had to offer, he gave him the job, and his very own bright red sport coat with the company initials  on his very own nametag.  Shortly thereafter, a man walked in and handed Reynaldo some money.  Reynaldo grabbed Jimmy and threw him out the door.  All he could see were all the crooks and gangsters he had tried to stay away from. 

BLAM!

He fell to his knees.  He looked up and saw the face of a man holding a smoking .38 and laughing.

“Don’t take it personal, kid.  I’m just trying to make sure my gun stays in working order.”  The last thing Jimmy saw was his blood nametag . . . “Jimmy – RIA.”

The moral of the story is, no matter how hard you try, you can’t keep yourself from ending up in . . . The Mafia Zone!

11/10, D.P. Pickles - as usual!

I have one amendment though .. if Jimmy were an RIA, there probably would've been at least five men waiting outside, clicking their guns repeatedly, racing to get that shot!