I killed a man today.  It's not like I woke up this morning and said to

myself, "today seems like a good day to end a life".  I don't recall ever

waking up and thinking such a thing.  No.  Sometimes, throughout the

natural course of one's day, these things tend to happen.  Take my day for

example.  I woke up at about the usual time, had my usual breakfast, read

my usual newspaper.  My day was business as usual, or as close to usual as

one gets in my line of work.  I made a trip down to the docks around

lunchtime to take care of some business, and enjoyed a pleasant dinner

with some cherished family down in our end of town.  As evening

approached, a few of my associates and I went to the speakeasy on 5th

street.It was a nice place, filled with dark, mahogany seats and tables, the kind

of wood that makes you think, "Man, this would be a nice place to wake up,

disoriented, several hours from now."  The bar stretched along the wall on

the left as one comes through the door, half the stools occupied with

already nearly unconscious patrons.  Someone wailed away depressingly on

an old upright piano opposite the bar, and the billiards table sat

gathering dust in the back corner, as people's priorities had shifted a

bit in recent days.   It had opened prior to the prohibition amendment,

and very little had changed, except maybe some of the patronage.  There

was a lounge in the back for more prioritized patrons such as myself, a

heavy, velvet curtain drawn across its doorway as I entered the

establishment.  I sat at the bar tonight, however.  Perhaps I was in a

social mood.  This particular speakeasy served us drinks at absolutely no

cost, as we were the ones providing them protection for the time being.

So we drank.  I've never been one to drink to excess.  Something about

dampening one's mind and reflexes has never sat well with me.  I'm most

comfortable when I'm alert.

Time passed swiftly as it always seems to do.  My associates, before long,

arrived at the promised land of incapacitation.  Anything to ease one's

mind, right?  I sat facing the rest of the room, watching people converse

and drink themselves into a stupor.  That's how it was every night,

really.   Sometime around midnight, a large man walked in, smug-looking as

most large men tend to look.  Barely anyone looked up as he approached the

bar to sit down beside me.

"I haven't seen you in here before," I said to him, glancing casually over

as he ordered a glass.  I received merely a grunt as a reply.  I pressed

further.

"New in town, I presume?"

"Piss off," he answered in some sort of thick, European accent.

"It would behoove you to be more open to pleasantries, my friend," I said

with a smile.

"And it would behoove you to piss, off," he said, emphasizing the last two

words of his sentence.

"Very well."

I finished my drink leisurely as my neighbor at the bar pounded down his,

one right after the other.  I rose from my seat, nodded at the bartender,

walked towards the door.  Normally I would go home, prepare for the next

day, and go to sleep, but tonight things were a bit different.  Upon

exiting the bar I rounded the corner and ducked into the alleyway beside

the bar, standing just outside the reach of the lights lining the street.

I waited.

It didn't take long for the man to finish up in the bar; I had timed

myself well.  Everyone, at least in my experience, makes the same noises

when they've reached their maximum capacity of drink.   I could only hear

him at first, his steps staggering, his breathing heavy in some

involuntary attempt to head off alcohol poisoning.  He came into view and

my hand closed swiftly on his collar, and I dragged him into the alleyway

out of sight.  My wire slipped around his throat.  It was over in under a

minute.

Like I said, I didn't wake up planning to kill someone today.  What can I

say?  My day was business as usual.

He leans forward.

Sorry, didn't catch that. Why are you whispering your story?

he glances around for Cops.

None here pal, speak up alittle.

Whatever the reason The way you take care of your business is pretty impressive. You give the man a second chance he failed so then you kill him, i like it. Dont know if he deserved to die but none the less you handle yours.

Waits to see if Mr. Lex answers Mr.______

Delirium stands there listening but hardly hears a thing.

I must agree with _______ on this one. So why the whisper? Were you trying to keep to yourself? I sure that there is some logic behind this whole thing.

There's no reason.  I copied/pasted from a word processor, and that's how it posted.  There's no edit button, so it stayed that way.

No one wakes up waiting to kill.

Usually, people waiting to kill barely sleep.

Tugaone bursts into a laughter as he says the second word, but with some solid appreciation for the story.

Removes his fedora to scratch his head. Placing it back on he looks through his mask at the print.

"What the hell is this saying? I can't read it."

There's no reason. I copied/pasted from a word processor, and that's how it posted. There's no edit button, so it stayed that way.

Word Processor? Posted? You were telling a story, not printing something. I realise that it is unlikely that you realised you had made a mistake, but I'm sure city hall could correct your mistake if you took the time to contact them.

Don't worry Donovan, these other cats may not be hip to your jargon, but I knowudursayin'.

Many esteemed Mafioso were known to be soft-spoken, never raising their voice because they didn't have to. No need to come out to these streets and justify why you spoke in a quiet tone. It is the content of your words that is important, not the volume in which you speak them.

It is certainly better than the alternative... talking loud but saying nothing. You'll find a lot of that here on the streets unfortunately, along with people that come out for no other reason than to try and bring others down.

I have to say Drexl, you are right in saying that many come to ours streets without any positive attitude, the trick is not to confuse these people with those giveing Constructive Critism.

Which in itself, it's extremely useful when it comes to teaching those whom have trouble speaking in public.

______,

I am very capable of recognizing constructive criticism when I see it, and I have heard you in the past try offering guidance to those who you felt could use it. However by looking at the pins and badges on Donovan's suit, I can see that this was his first attempt at coming out to the streets to share a story with his fellow criminals. You and I both know that one is unable to 'turn back time' and repeat what has been said if the words come out the first time. I just think private conversation with a person whose public speaking voice may not be as polished as yours would have done just as much good, if not more, than public constructive criticism.

Be that as it may, while my comment was slightly directed to you, it was more for the people that have and most likely will come out to pile on and basically just repeat what you have already said.

Drexl,

I have to say that for once I was possibly wrong, I apologise. To take it to a simple mail would have been much more appropriate.

"You and I both know that one is unable to 'turn back time' and repeat what has been said if the words come out the first time."

...and repeat what has been said once the words come out the first time. Not if. Apparently my public speaking could use some polishing too.

Drexl makes a face that resembles a semi-colon and a close-parenthesis to indicate a wink and a smile at the man with no name