"First I have to say that this rant is for Wise Guys only.  If you have been tapped, Made, or if you are currently toting a Tommy Gun that's been sent with love from Sicily then this speech might in fact make you dumber.  You've been warned."

.45 staples a dirty parchment to a signpost on the side of the street... A small crowd of vermin gathers 'round.  Their stench can be detected a quarter mile away.

"Now where were we? Ahh my proposal."  

.45 attempts to take a smooth drag from his cigar for dramatic effect--without realizing that the stogey is unlit.  He makes a valiant effort to pull a puff before giving up meekly.  

"Look there are two problems here - Too many Wise Guys and not enough Men.  We're like a god damn infestation.  What do I mean? I mean I can't take a piss without tripping over one Wise Guy and stumbling into another.  I mean SHIT, look at us!  How many prostitution rings do we need around here before we turn downtown Philadelphia into Bacchian Orgy?"

A particularly grimy fellow mutters something undecipherable back at .45.  

"What's that you say?  You put in work?  So you can swindle an old lady's coupon book and con a no-good schlub...?  You want a 21 Gun Salute?  Wise Guys ain't like they used to be.  We can't shoot the shit, HELL WE CAN'T SHOOT ANYTHING--'cept the bums and the comatose.  When we get disrespected we're too scared to pull steel and handle business like the good ol' days.  Now we gotta submit a form like a god damn insurance claim and wait a week for the higher-ups to figure it all out."

The crowd begins to thin as .45 grows steadily more incoherent.

"Well I've had enough!  I say we load up and die behind a dumpster somewhere - right where we belong!  One shot each - no asking permission.  No crying to mama.  This ain't suicide, my disgusting cohorts and thieves.  This is the path to immortality!"

.45 spends a few long seconds frantically trying to prick his finger with a entirely too dull blade before cutting too deep and bleeding profusely across the parchment that's been stapled to the post.

"Now I've signed up!  Let's thin this herd before we get our buttons and bloat the ranks of the chiefs more then they already are."

The blood is draining heavily from .45's fingertip - perhaps a childhood case of severe hemophilia had resurfaced.  A couple of bystanders grow concerned and call the authorities to take the speaker to the Philadelphia Trauma Unit where he reportedly remains - babbling uncontrollably to nurses and janitors about toughness and respect - his finger wound healing nicely.

Meanwhile, the blood-soaked parchment, titled Wise Guy Russian Roulette, proudly hangs on the corner of Sunset and 33rd - awaiting signatures.

Ok, you were extremely vauge in what you were meaning.

Are you suggesting that any Wise Guy whom signs this Contract enters a battle Royale and can shoot any other Wise Guy on the list?

*Matterhorn signs SpaceMountain's name on the list*

Tommy pops around a corner, "A WiseGuy battle royal!?!"

He sits down on a bus bench calling over a stall boy to get him some snacks. "If this works out, this will be the greatest show ever!, but now we need to find WiseGuy's dumb enough to enter the battle."

It's actually an advertisement for a rock, paper, scissors tournament at Guido's Pizza Hole.  Please don't take it seriously -- although Matterhorn clearly is a bad ass.

That's too bad, I liked the idea of a wise guy shootout. 

We mafioso don't tend to lean towards childhood games of "Rock, Paper, Scissors", usually its a nice evening of "My Gun, Your Gun" but i guess its an interesting idea.

Advantage pulls seniority over the Wise Guys to get his name on the list.

razor hears the commotion and walks over to the bloody piece of paper, pushes his way through the small crowd and writes his name on the list

we will see what this is all about soon enough

Razor, as I'm sure you heard Glock say - It's a 'Rock, Paper, Scissors' tournament.

I don't know why you think this piece of paper is bloody... Need to get your eyes checked I think.

V shakes his head at the Wise Guys and their games of Rock, Paper, Scissors and wanders off

Seeing as how Mr. Glock here pricked his finger and bled on the paper, I'd call that a bloody paper. However, that's just my opinion.

This idea is great. It's time for some competition. Some real wit v. wit. I feel Glock here has the key to changing the world.

Mux waves his "Go .45" sign.

I was wondering though if someone would share with us the rules of this strange game and how one might have a chance at winning it? I would not want to enter a competition to only get disqualified. I must say I agree with Mux that the blood on the paper would indeed make it a bloody paper. 

Me steps around the bloody paper and looks at the crowd staring at it.

"I don't think any Wise Guy in his right mind would enjoy partaking in this game. But I do like seeing some blood. I seen a few of them with an army of bodyguards, I wonder how Glock will stand up to them."

Darth Torin awaits the bloodbath, drink in hand.

Looks at the parchment, shaking his head.  Turns around, cupping his hand to his mouth, and says

"Does he expect us to throw our lives avay?  This is pointless idea!  Sign name in blood... fight each other... is like children's game!  Who thinks this as vell?"

I am with PaulVidi on this,I want to known what rules are? Let me understand this!!! 

  So we meet by the dumpster to play ....rock, paper, scissors?

I think Cav should play. Russian roulette that is.

Loans the revolver.. with six shots when noone is watching

Here you go Cav!!

Hands the pistol over

Thanks Striphe

Shoves the pistol up his nose to see if he smells lead...

I think its loaded..

You really want to kill me Striphe????

Pulls the trigger...on Striphes new kitten....

haha sucka!

Marky stares at the dead kitten, then pulls a cat out from the middle of nowhere.

"Striphe, if you need a new one, you can have mine, it has rabies anyways"

Rabies eh..

Sounds violent, hairy, slow and like a project - it sounds like my friend Cav!

Starts digging the hole in the ground next to his garage for his cat.. with each gravel throw reminding him of the hatred he has

I am still waiting to see the disclaimer.....

No animals were harmed in the making of this thread

The blood of wise guys on the street I can handle, but when it comes to innocent kittens I just have to step in!

Laughs under his breath a little bit.. his hand on his pocket rubbing his lucky rabbit foot that is on his keychain

I would not worry too much about the poor little kittens..