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Same Title Different Story Started by: Sal_Giaquinto on Dec 11, '08 00:13
It's a vibrantly day in the suburban Chicago, An elderly man rocks gently in his chair, his grandchildren laughing, chasing each other round and round in his suburbia green lawn. His wife washes the dishes left behind by the vast lunch they enjoyed together. Even the aromas of grandma's cooking caress the air, tempting the expired scent of the old bloodhound sitting loyalty by his master's feet. Despite the empathy of his loving wife, only the dog can see the loneliness in the man's soul. Despite what home is, the man cannot shake the gravity of his past, those who have impacted him, those who shaped him, and the impact he has had on others, but this is a dark world, that he dwells on. A longing he cannot shift, he has to remember.

Chugga Chugga Chugga... wuuuuuuuu wuuuuuuuuuuu.

The train came to a screaming halt and the young lad rose from his seat, as he walked to the open doors, he rubbed his gloved hands together in anticipation of the winter cold. Embracing the cold December breeze, he tarried on to his destination. Something he was quite unsure of at the moment.
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It doesn't take long for a poor boy to get hungry. Sometimes someone has to something to earn his way in this world. I'm not justifying the thief that feeds the less fortunate; the streets have their criminals, as do the politicians and businessmen. Perhaps the thievery that did take place was simply a tax on the greedy. It was give and take, everyone was screwing everyone else.

The two lads conspired in an alleyway, scooping a potential stake.

"Do you see that barber shop over there? Of course you see it." The fashioned out self-styled earner softens up the prospect's cheeks with a nice slap.

"You go in there and you get me, my money. Capice?"

"Aye," A cold and precise reply, but under his worn winter coat, the lad was shaking.


Unfortunately, what starts off as a temporary solution, a job so to say, something in between, becomes a profession. It was scary at times.

It was a humble place, the barber shop. When the prospect entered, the bells hanging by the jam, let out a welcoming jingle. "Get a hold of yourself." He whispered to himself.
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The barbershop was empty save, it's barber and a lowly patron, with their backs to the entrance, and the prospect would make his move on this easy stake. He quickly offered a prayer, promising repentant and asking for forgiveness, he finished and brandished his pistol.


"I'm here for the money," His voice shook. "All of it!"

The barber remained silent, raising his hands in submission, the customer remained idle, as the barber turned round and started to unlock the cashbox.


"Wait a minute," said the idle customer, as he turned and rose from his chair, slowly approaching the prospect.
The kid didn't expect this and before he could react, the customer grabbed a hold of him, and managed to disarm and belt the lad with his backhand, knocking him to the floor.


"Learn some respect." The man said calmly, all the while he inspected himself in the wall mirror, obviously impressed with the work; he offered a smile and a handsome tip. He robed himself in an elegant coat; with one hand he grabbed his hat, the other the ear of the prospect, who remained on the floor, nervous and confused by the ordeal.


"Come on, let's go." He said as he pulled the boy by his ear, lifting him to his feet.
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Gotti leads Sal_Giaquinto outside, into the cold weather


God it's cold. Don't you think? Gotti says, as he pulls up his coat closer to his face.

You've got to learn some respect around here. You can't just go around, robbing shops Cashboxes. Where will that get you?

Yes we have got our criminals, but come on show some class eh?

Now I'm willing to show you the ropes, the proper way!

Come with me.

Gotti takes Sal_Giaquinto for a walk through the streets.


You see you've got your low life, crack heads who are going no where! Low life thieves, going no where.

Me? I like to do my job with class. They live on the streets, I pay $5000 for my suits each, while living in a nice house, with a fire. Gotti Smiles.

You see the point I'm trying to get at, you can do crime, but what you do is the question!


Look at that guy over there Gotti points to a guy, lying on a bench in the most scruffy clothes you could ever see. See that guy just took the wrong path at a young age.

You're young, you got plenty to learn. But it's all down to what path you would like to take.

Gotti Winks, as he smokes on a cigar.
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The prospect nods in agreement, while rubbing his thurbing ear. The cold breeze soon licked it numb.


It was a fruitful lesson that had been learnt that day. A lesson that outweighed the couple hundred dollars that could of been taken in a clean robbery, but the man was right. Anyone could seperate a working man from his wallet, but if it was done in class... that was something different, of course the title was the same. All in a days work.
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Time had rolled by and Sully was trying to make it big. The meeting of the minds with Gotti really turned things around for the lad. He settled himself on the East Coast, where the spread was fat enough to make comfortable living, but for a while he wasn't kicking up. Sure, he know some wise guys and considered himself a civilian in the grand scheme, this illusion was shattered as stray and aimless bullets were sent his way. It really wasn't an interesting story, more of a message from the powers that be that he should kick-up his take. He learnt quickly.
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