I walked down the street as cold rain poured on me. It was as if the clouds exploded with water and made it pour on us. "Illinois weather can be hell," I thought, as a truck drove by and splashed a large puddle of water over me, completely soaking me.

"Dammit," I whispered quietly to myself. It was hard to resist the temptation to pull the nickle-plated revolver from my jacket and start shooting, but I couldn't be arrested today. Not today, of all days.

I shivered a little. I wished I could get out of this fucking rain and go to the Darkside Tavern and warm up, then go to that whore house I'd gotten, but I couldn't. Sidious, the head of the Windy City, was having a party in celebration of Rj's birthday, and I couldn't not show up.

"Taxi!" I yelled. "Taxi, come on!"

A yellow taxi stopped and let me climb in. I gave him the directions to Sidious's Compound, and tried to get the water out of my hat.

The driver stopped at a red light.

"Alright, hand it over," he said.

Damn, a fucking stick-up.

"Hand what over?" I replied.

"All your motherfucking money and the package in your jacket. NOW!" he ordered.

I reached in my pocket and, instead of the package, I pulled my revolver and aimed it at him.

"I'm having a bad motherfucking day. You better get to driving, otherwise they'll never find the Goddamned body," I said angrily.

He agreed and, with the driver sweating more by the block, we headed to Sidious's home. After what seemed like forever, I threw the driver a five (taking off for the attempted robbery) and went inside the house, after holstering my gun.

I walked inside the large wooden doors and hung my dripping jacket up on the coat rack. I continued through a second set of doors and came into the main hall, which was mostly empty. One of Sidious's many servants led me into the ballroom, where everybody was.

I saw Rj, sitting in a seat at the front, and noticed that a woman was dancing on a pole. "Either Hopey's idea, or Sidious's," I thought, and went closer.

I lit up a cigarette and handed the package to one of Rj's bodyguards.

"Hey, boss," I said in acknowledgement.

He nodded my way. I turned and looked at the stripper. The way she danced around the pole, moving her hands along her body, almost to her sock...

And pulling something out of it. She pulled a small gun and took three shots, all of them missing Rj. Nobody was injured, except for the package. A bullethole was in the side.

"Well, I hope it was a good gift," said Rj, smirking as his bodyguards captured the stripper.

Amber-colored liquid leaked out the bullethole. He quickly unwrapped it and looked at the bottle.

"Damn, 1720s whiskey," said Rj. His heart was sinking, you could tell that by the look in his eyes.

"Cost me $450.00 just to get it past customs, boss. You don't wanna know how much the liqour itself costs," I said.

"How much?" he asked.

I leaned in and whispered the figure in his ear. His eyes visibly grew larger.

"Damn, what a waste of a great present. Motherfucking hooker..." he trailed off.

I looked at him with a very serious look on my face and said, "Sir, today, I have been soaked with water, almost robbed by a cab driver, confused by one of Sidious's servants who jabbered away in Spanish, shot at, and wasted money. Chicago is a bitch sometimes."