February 11, 1935

Yesterday Chicago police charged 186 gangsters for their part in huge rum-running plot. This meant a lot of speakeasies in the city had a whole pile of checkers and no hooch.

My pal Ichigo was a made man in a very well respected family. On numerous occasions I had told him how I was tired of being a crumb and wish I could be join the family.  I was at home sitting on the front porch steps when I saw Ichigo coming up the street. He spotted me and said,

“Hey how’s my pally Mickie?”

To which I responded, “Well look here it’s the butter and egg man himself.”

Ichigo laughed and said “hey man lets step inside and talk for a minute.”

We walked inside and his demeanor changed. He was suddenly all business and looked at me and whispered,

“I finally got you your shot at joining the family. You just got to do this job I got set up for us to get started and we will see where it goes from there.”

I was about to blow my wig, but did my best to play it cool and asked “what kind of job?”

“Did you hear about all the cats the G-men caught running rot gut? Well, we are going to seize that suddenly open business. I found a wheat few miles out of the apple that’s making his own hooch, and this is not any bathtub gin this is this stuff’s the tops. All we got to do is drive out there pick it up and bring it back to the club just a few blocks from here. They are so scared they won’t have any giggle juice for their wing ding tonight they will give us more cabbage than we have ever seen. This job is just eggs in coffee. “

I agreed to the job and we walked up two blocks. There he had an old Ford flatbed we climbed in to and sped out of town. About an hour later we arrived at our destination. It was a pitiful shack. It had a grey-blue barn that seemed to lean like the Tower of Pisa my mother had in her travel books when I was a kid.  As we got out the car a man who was altogether dirty in appearance came out of the shack and said in a thick southern drawl

“Yoos da boiz Clary sent up heerre?”

We nodded and told him our names and he introduced himself as Bama Carl. He then went into a long story about how he came to Illinois from Alabama and why.  After listening to him for what seemed like ages he finally walked us into the barn. He walked over to a large wooden crate that looked like it was full of corn.  He and pulled out the corn and removed piece of wood in the bottom and motioned us over. In the bottom was about 20 bottles of booze. He pulled one bottle out and opened it and handed it to Itchy and I to taste. We took a sip and Itchy exclaimed

“Murder! That is some strong stuff.”

He was right it was way higher quality than anything I had ever come across.

Bama Carl laughed, “ he he he yassa dat stuff dem odda boiz be makin ain’t no betta den dah pigz slop! He he he!”

Itchy handed him a wad of dough thanked him and explained we were on a tight schedule. We then loaded up ten of the false bottomed crates and 2 real crates onto the truck. We then thanked Bama Carl and promised him to give his thanks to Clary and headed back to Chicago.

As we headed back to town we got about three blocks from the speakeasy when we were pulled over by a couple of coppers.

Itchy looked at me and handed me a bean shooter and said, “If this goes bad do not let them get the mule.”

He then hopped out of the truck and met the cops at then back of the flatbed. I began to get nervous. I just new this I was going to be joining the guys from the day before at the big house. I watched as Itchy exchanged pleasantries with the coppers. After a few minutes of talking he lifted one of the real crates off the flatbed and gave it to the officers to investigate. They rummaged through the crate until they were satisfied. Then helped Itchy load it back up shook his hand and went back to their car.

Itchy got back in the car with a smile and I said nervously relieved, “Man you’re just a grifter aren’t you.”

He laughed and we headed on to our destination. We pulled into an alley way and unloaded the crates on a dock. As soon as the last crate was unloaded a plump man with a cigar walked up and handed Itchy a roll of cabbage bigger than I had ever seen.

Itchy pocketed the money and looked at me and said, “Mr. Jones this is my pally Mickie.”

Mr. Jones shook my hand and stepped back and said in an excited tone, “I tell you cats what you saved my hide today. I was terrified that with the bust yesterday I was going to have to shut down. You tell Ms. Clary she will have all my business from now on.”

Itchy and I then got back into the truck and I asked “where are we going now?”

He said, “I am taking you home then I have to take this money to Ms. Clary. Oh, except for this sawbuck here.”

He then handed me the ten dollar bill. He explained I was not meeting her today but that he would tell her about me helping him.

As we reached my house I hopped out the Ford and headed inside. My heart was pumping from the day’s excitement. Hopefully, today would lead to another job and eventually joining the family.

That was my first ever job. Although I am still new I am learning fast. I am yet to be made but I am working hard and very much looking forward to that day

Anoxia stood in the streets, the sun shined on his back and there was a cigarette pursed between two of his fingers, he was enjoying life at the moment, just like he very much was enjoying the young mafioso's story as he stood there listening to him.

"I'll tell ya what kidda, you've done yourself well with your first every crime, booze running ain't the easiest job, but the real question is, could have you have held your own if it had all turned sour with them cops? From what i see your going to have no problems fitting in around here, I think you will make a fine mafioso. Great tale young friend"

Anoxia approaches the young man, putting a couple of notes in his pocket as a sign of gratitude

DWR stand around the small group circled around the young man. He blankly smiled every now and then. As the story came to a close he waited around, waiting for everyone to leave. When everyone left he cautiously approached the story teller.

"That there story was pretty good, but tell me, do you really have connections to a family?" Mickie turns to inspect the stranger. "Well whose asking?" Dwr quickly replies, "I'm sorry, wheres my manners? My names Dakota. I've done a few odd jobs for some families, but never anything serious. But this work me and you do, it gets dangerous with no one protecting your back. How about you talk you friend, and maybe he can set something up?"