I told a story from my family's distant past, but I haven't spoken yet about my OWN rise to crime.  Like many of my friends,' it was quite complicated, and quite unusual.
    It all started, I believe, when I began dating a woman in prison.  It was the perfect relationship!  All of the benefits with none of the legwork!  But I don't think that we were meant to be.  A week or two later, when she didn't get her parole request, she busted out and just popped in at my apartment, and I don't know what was up with that.  but that was no good.
    So anyway, after that I started thinking about what it was that made me so attracted to that jailbird.  And I realized it was that she seemed a little dangerous.  a little unpredictable.  My friend, Jerry, helped me figure it out:

George Costanza: So I'm the bad boy. I've never been the bad boy before.
Jerry: Why not? You've been the bad employee, the bad son, the bad friend...
George Costanza: Yes, yes, yes...
Jerry: The bad fiancé, the bad dinner guest, the bad credit risk...
George Costanza: OK, the point is made.
Jerry: The bad date, the bad sport, the bad citizen...
[George leaves]
Jerry: The bad tipper.

So sometime soon I found the opportunity to play the "bad boy" on a girl who worked in my friend's office, and she really took to it!  But I guess it wasn't written in the stars.  The whole thing sort of fell apart.  But I got the chance to do some bootlegging, and that really made me feel alive.  So I changed directions.  I moved out of my parents' house in Queens, and into my own apartment in Manhattan.

I began a whole new life of crime.  I started parking in handicapped spots.  I went to a cockfight.  I started telling people that I was an architect.  My already superior skill in lying excelled me through the crime world.  I put a mickey in my boss's drink and nearly killed him.  I got involved in an illegal male prostitution ring , and, while working at the Yankee's, I stole their equipment.  A lot of people believed that I killed my fiancé, but I did NOT.  That is all heresay.

Eventually, I ended up doing some time with a few of my friends in Latham, Massachusetts.  Let me tell ya, it was brutal.  But when I got out, I was a changed man.  I was ready to take my brain and skill in lying, combine that with what I had learned in prison, and dominate the streets.

I had heard as much as they were allowed to tell about the crime scene from my friends, Kramer and Jerry, who both lost their lives fighting for their families, so I knew a little about where to meet the right people.  It wasn't long before I secured membership with The Manhattan Project, and started making the big bucks!  Now, I get no greater pleasure than from raiding a trucking depot, torching a rival's business, busting fellow criminals out of jail, and running drugs cross-country.

So that's about it.  That's my story.  Although I'm sure I left out some of the finer details...

ChrisJohnson bursts out laughing.

Just a classic example of a good guy gone bad.  I hope all of your listeners take the time to check out some of the visuals that you're walking around with.  I too have been to a cockfight. 

Very nice story George... I see your friends Jerry and Kramer (GRTS) have taught you the fine arts of entertainment quite well..

Bliss strolls off with a smile on his face..

Yes, thank you, Bliss.  What you say is true.  We used to be quite a team.

And thank you, too, Mr. Johnson, both for the kind words and for noticing those visuals.  I find that I am able to act out the story quite well with them.

Mark listens intently, smiling at the words coming out of the Business man before him.

"It seems you learned a lot through your life that has lead you up to now, and you stand in a fine position.

By the way, if you would, let me in on your secret of how to keep a fine body- your male prostitution pictures had me questioning my orientation."

Haha well thank you, Mark.  I do feel very lucky to have such a rich history. 

In reference to your question, the most important thing is to stay active.  I can lift a hundered pounds right over my head without even knowing it.  And I can run really fast!  And you might not know it to look at me, but I can bait a hook, baby!  But, more specifically, I really have my photographer and my naturally strong pecs to thank for that shot--I truly couldn't have done it without them.

Mr_Bean heard a man talking in the street from his 1 bedroom apartment on the 5th floor listening with his head hanging out of the window and decided to yell out at George.

YOU SURE DO TELL A GOOD STORY!!!... I DON'T SEE WHAT THE BIG DEAL WAS WITH THE CANDY BAR IN THE TRASH!!!  It seemed like the right thing to do. BRAVO!!!... bravo.

:George looks up and squints into the street light:

Thank you, Mr. Bean.  I learned from the best.  And that eclair wasn't even in the garbage.  It was hovering above.  Like an angel.

Joy pauses to listen to Mr. Costanza as she's walking out of a nearby bookstore.

What an exciting life you've led, George! I can't wait to hear more about your adventures. In the meantime, though, can you tell me why you've been banned from that bookseller back there? It's a shame, really...they have such a wonderful selection. Unbeatable prices, too! Joy lifts a shopping bag. I got this book right here at a steal. They said it had been red-flagged, but I'm not sure what that means, really...

Ah, yes, Joy.  I'm glad you brought that up.  They MADE me pay for that book for no good reason.  I hate to possibly ruin it for you, but I took it in the bathroom.  I find the soothing pastoral images very condicive to....well, ya know.

But thanks again for bringing that up, Ms Turner.  See, I knew that I left a couple of the finer things like that out.

hahhaaa....

My apologies George ahaha...
i couldn't hel hhaha, p it

aaahahha,

-A- continues laughing as he walks away but hit a stop at the end of the street.
rolling on the floor, -A- just couldn't stop laughing...

:blushes:

What, A, old buddy?  What's so funny?

These stories have not been embellished, because - they need no embellishment. They are simply, horrifyingly, the story of my life as a short, stocky, slow witted bald man.  Oh, also, my fiance died from licking toxic envelopes that I picked out.