There were chairs positioned in front of a drug store on main street in front of and facing a wooden podium. The very same street many a crowd had gathered recently to voice their opinions on various topics, a couple of which were on the topic of honour and respect, which seemed to get a little out of hand. Another was a simple congratulations speech, which got heated and nearly spilled over into a full blown street riot. 

Seeing an opportunity to further his business and help others, esteemed public speaker Hale Garnegie made a pledge to himself to help these fiery criminals better their communication skills, before the greater world suffered even more consequences of unhealthy expression of Mafioso bravado.

Hale was an eloquent man, and as seats filled he took to the podium to address the gathering crowd. He introduced himself and the reason he was here, which was to allow people a platform to learn and practice the art of public speaking without hopefully causing a riot. People could step up to the platform and give their own speeches about whatever at all moved them, to better their own skillset.

A main draw besides the days events was that every man, woman, child and camel got to walk away with their own personal copy of Hale's newest book, 'Public Speaking and Influencing Men in Business'.

After his introduction he opened the floor for people to ask differing questions whilst he was still positioned behind the podium. One man enquired about what content a story should have in it when telling it to keep peoples attention. His answer followed.

"Your purpose is to make your audience see what you saw, hear what you heard, feel what you felt. Relevant detail, couched in concrete, colorful language, is the best way to recreate the incident as it happened and to picture it for the audience."

Another Mafioso stood out of his chair and asked a question regarding how long it take to develop a good public speaking style, and he answered brief yet to the heart of the matter.

"Develop success from failures. Discouragement and failure are two of the surest stepping stones to success."

Yet another criminal stood as the one before him took his seat, and enquired about what simply breeds success when it comes to public speaking, and again he was short, sharp and to the point.

"People rarely succeed unless they have fun in what they are doing."

The rough nut looking man smiled, showing a set of blackened teeth, as the point seemed to hit home, before taking his seat. Another rose eagerly to have his question answered. He wanted to know why he found it hard to connect with other criminals, even though he was of a reputable stature and had everything going for him. Garnegie smiled then summed it up nicely.

"You can make more friends in two months by becoming interested in other people than you can in two years by trying to get other people interested in you."

The elegantly suited man scratched his head, then took a seat before a rather aggressive looking fellow jumped out of his and demanded he know why people took offence to so much of what he said when gathered in street crowds. Garnegie put it across quite simply.

"When dealing with people, remember you are not dealing with creatures of logic, but creatures of emotion."

Two more stood yet weren't able to ask anything further as Garnegie asked them to be seated, with a smile on his face and a calm demeanour. The usually rough edged men seemed to comply quite easily.

With men still eager to know more of the special guests insights, Garnegie instead set to the original task of giving an open platform for people to construct a speech on whatever topic they wanted. He advised the podium would now be open for anyone and everyone to take turns, in front of their peers, out front of the drug store on main street, for the practice of speaking better in public and to build more confidence.

Garnegie reminded the gathered and continually growing group of criminals to choose a topic that they were enthusiastic about, as this energy would most certainly come through and make for a better received speech. He then stepped out from behind the podium, and found a chair in the front row, awaiting the first brave soul to take his place and address the audience...

Luigi was soaking it all in as he sat in the wooden chair near the middle of the auditorium. There was a baby crying behind him that he wanted to punch, seriously who bring a baby to a self help speech seminar? His notepad was getting abused as he wrote down all the amazing advice that was emanating from this Garnegie fellow. Yeah no one would resist me after this.........

Scarfo stepped up to the podium, as the first to address the crowd. He'd always had a little problem with his aggression, which turned into bursts of violence and attempts at intimidation on many an occasion. He felt though, today would be different, as he would talk about a subject that inspired him in a positive way as a kid. Boxing.

As Scarfo prepared himself, he gripped the sides of the wooden podium, looked out toward the faces seated, and began his speech.

"Boxing. The sport that brings a sense of relief, and expression. My dad put me into the sport as a youngster. He made sure my aggressiveness had an outlet, a way to be directed and released as a positive force. For the most part, he was right. It gave me that sense of accomplishment. By stepping in the ring and taking it toe to toe with my opponents, it made me feel alive like nothing else."

Scarfo paused, looked down at the podium for a moment and smiled, then continued as he addressed the crowd again.

"I remember one fight in particular that stands out from the rest. It was a competitive match for the amateur belt. We had fought many rounds and I was most likely being beat on the score card. My father came to the side of the ring between the second last, and last round, and he told me something I will never forget. He told me to rip his fuckin' head off."

Scarfo gripped the podium tighter, as he continued to bring back the memory and the emotions.

"I came out in the next round and I just attacked him like never before. Punch, after punch, after punch. I just wanted to do my father proud, and smash his fuckin' mick head right the fuck in. I sent his mother fuckin' ass to the ground, and I just couldn't help myself. I stood over him, bent down, and beat his face into the canvas. It took three men to get me off of him. Then, I hit one of them trying to restrain me. Knocked him out cold. It was the referee. At least, that's what others told me afterwards. The kid I was fighting was in hospital for 3 months."

Scarfo let loose his grip, realizing he was a little overwhelmed with aggressive energy running through his body.

"I was too enraged to know what exactly I was doing. I guess that's my point here. Sometimes emotions can get the better of us, and it leads to us doing things that we later might regret. I was disqualified and lost that title fight and was banned for punching the referee. It was my last proper fight as a boxer, and I've missed the sport ever since."

Scarfo brushed at his suit jacket and buttoned up a loose button as he made his way around the podium and back into the crowd.

The entire crowd applauded Scarfo as he stepped of the podium. As Jake sat quietly in the crowd he looked around before getting up and making his way to the podium where his friend just finished his speech. As they walked past each other Scarfo and Jake gave each other a "bro" handshake. Jake grinned at Scarfo

"Wish me luck"

Jake made his way up the steps and onto the podium. He looked at the crowd and thought he'd share a little about himself as Scardo did.

"Howsit guys, my name is Jake, but some people call me "Jake_the_Muss"

Jake lit up a cigarette to calm his nerves.

"Alot of you guys out there have been asking me what the muss stands for, well im about to tell you. See I was brought up around a pretty tough neighbourhood. There was always some asshole tryna move on you"

Jake takes a drag of his ciggy.

"So like Scarfo, i learned how to use these"

Jake raises his fists up to his chest.

"And i had to smack a few outsiders around to protect my neighbourhood. Anyway I went to jail at the age of 21 for jacking a car on the night of my mates wedding, so I was a right fucking mess. 

Jakes lowers one hand and moves the other with the cigarette to his mouth for another drag. He exhales a cloud of smoke before continuing his story.

On the inside I worked as Hired Muscle for a few the gangs and they gave me the name Muss. Muss is short for Muscle"

Jake takes a final look around before exiting the stage. The crowd applaude