Fuego entered the streets with something specific in mind. He had recently attended a comedy show. He hadn't laughed that hard in his whole life. And now he was coming down from that high. He wanted to laugh again. He needed to laugh again. And he knew how he could accomplish it. 

He wasn't necessarily talking about making fun of himself but he wanted to hear the many stories of others either being stupid or screwing something up terribly. He even wanted to offer a reward to someone who had the greatest 'fuck up' in history. Fuego stepped forward to hang a poster with details of the contest.

Comedic Entertainment

The contest is simple.  Bring comedic entertainment to our streets for all to laugh at. I wanna hear your funniest, craziest and yes even stupidest stories of all time. So dig out those journals and go for the gold. While the story might be yours to tell or another's, the key thing is it has to be true. It has to have happened. 

If you feel the need to hide identities due to the story being that horrendous, so be it.

The winner will be judged by yours truly. (Other judges are allowed to enter but must be willing to throw in something into the pot)

The winner will receive a total of 25 credits and 1 Super VIP perk.

The deadline will be May 6th at 12:00.

As FuegoSteve hung up the poster, a small group of people started to read it. He turned to make sure they knew how to get their questions answered.

"If you have any questions regarding the contest, please let me know directly via mobmail. I'd like to keep this discussion clean of questions and open to the contestants. And to give everyone an example of a great story for the contest, my very own story entitled The Incident would do extremely well.

Good luck amigos."

Dubliner stepped forward eager to make a fool of himself. No jester hat, no funny makeup, not squeaky nose, but he had a great story that had happened to him several years ago:

It was a Saturday in Indiana. Dubliner was on vacation to see family over 4th of July weekend and was stuck at his uncle's church with nothing to do. It was a beautiful sunny day outside and he was 15 and had a permit to drive with an adult. His younger cousin, Seth, was also with him desperately passing time as his father slaved away on the word of God. Seth had worked up the courage to ask his dad for the keys to the car so he and Dubliner could drive around the parking lot to kill some time. It was a desperate plea but one that Dub's uncle caved into. What's worse than a 15 and 14 year old driving a car around a church parking lot? Completely innocent! And it truly was...until...

Seth had grown bored of driving illegally in the parking lot. He turned to Dubliner, "Hey Dubliner, I just had a great idea." Seth smiled with a mischievous look to his eye...

"Lay it on me." Dub replied.

"You get on the hood of the car and I'll drive REALLY slow. You'll be fine and it'll be a rush!"

Now, any respective and intelligent human being would've stopped at this moment and said 'no seth, I think that is a terrible idea.' But at this moment, all reason and logic had gone on vacation from Dubliner's mind... So Dub, in agreement with Seth's beautiful plan, stepped out of the car and placed himself firmly on the hood looking through the windshield at Seth. He had his fingers clasped around the back of the hood for support so he wouldn't fall off should Seth decided to turn at all. All in all, he was pretty secure on the hood. So he thought.

You see, Seth wasn't the brightest person in Dub's family... When Seth said "REALLY slow" he meant he'd rapidly accelerate to only 30 miles per hour... Now, 30 mph seems relatively slow when inside of a car, but when you're holding onto the hood of a 15 year old minivan staring through glass into the eyes of a psychopath you once knew as your loving cousin as he recklessly speeds across a gravel parking lot, your outlook on life begins to shift. In the panic, Dubliner realized that his fingers were slipping from their grip on the hood. In sheer fear, he looked up and straight into the eyes of his cousin. Both of their eyes were as big as flying saucers... 

So Seth simply tapped on the breaks ever so slightly to avoid Dubliner's momentum from flinging him off the car. And to a slow and complete stop the minivan came, and Dub climbed off and vowed never to do anything that stupid ever again...would've been the ending had the two adrenaline junky teens been thinking with their brains!

Seth, out of pure, unadulterated panic stomped violently on the brakes of the minivan causing Dubliner momentum to shift towards the front of the vehicle. Dub was thrown from the hood and managed to land smoothly on his feet but Seth didn't bring the minivan to a complete stop. The van ended up colliding with Dub's knees at about 15 mph knocking him back violently and making him stumble for 20 feet trying to regain his balance and keep from falling face first into the gravel...his attempts were for naught. Dubliner dropped to the ground. He, very luckily, only suffered bruised knees and a scrapped up shoulder. But he learned to never do anything that Seth described as a "Great Idea" ever again.

(Completely true story. I am surprised that I didn't get any more severely hurt. Two ladies from the church walked out just in time to see the car hit me and they thought my cousin had killed me! lol)

FuegoSteve listened to the story told by Dubliner. Fuego realized it was a story from the old country. Fuego needed to make sure the rules were clear in the matter.

"Everyone I'd like to step out and just make it clear that stories that have happened in the old country will not be judged. I have sent Dubliner here some credits for his work but his work will not go towards the main prize. 

Thank you for sharing that story with us amigo. Sounds like your cousin definitely needs some more time behind the wheel. And if you have a story that takes place here, we'd love to hear it."

I am no comedian! But just for the hell of a memory worth cringing over....

That moment when you thought your were in a private room with someone so tell them in detail exactly what you will do to them when you see them and as soon as you've said it realise you ran through the crew HQ saying it instead.....that was fun!!!! 

My ancestors were rather verbose and it looks like this entry may provide a few laughs, so here you go. This is an entry from Cato (my great grandfather), after whom I am named.

Nov 25, '15

It was autumn in New York and just starting to cool off. I got my own HQ, working as a captain for Rita_Hayworth, a popular actress-turned-mob-boss who had moved up to the tippy-top of the New York Mafia. A Godfather of a district all her own, she saw fit (for reasons that will never be fully known) to auth me with my confidant xxxxxxxxx (redacted) as my RHW. She is lovely and kind, but this was her first time in such a leadership role so we'll have to take things slow as she learns the ropes.

Nov 26, '15

She's getting it! Doing a fabulous job. She's recruiting. She's roughing up the assholes behind on their taxes. She's everything I thought she would be. I knew I made a great decision picking her to run this crew with me. I am so excited!

Nov 27, '15

Well shit. We went too fast. Apparently, she likes to keep her messages very tidy. So tidy, in fact, that she felt the urge to tidy up my workspace too. She shredded... everything. Every. Single. Message. Telegrams, notes, even bank statements were gone. I left the office to hit the bars FOR ONE HOUR, and when I came back everything was gone. And she stood there. SMILING ABOUT IT. She was so proud of how clean everything was. But two months of correspondence were gone.

Looks like we're gonna go back to taking it slow.

So the story goes, as I've heard it, is that ol' Cato's RHW couldn't tolerate his messy lifestyle and cleaned it up. By shredding every single message he had ever sent or received throughout the course of his life. He had even stored some documents in his archives. Gone. It seemed to straighten up my great-grandfather, too, because he never once had anything bad to say about her from that day forth.

A family member of mine was once recruited by a guy called PeterPertits to possibly the worst crew ever called Pert Palace. It was good fun though.

Here are extracts of a letter I wrote and the diary I kept at the time:

Lerano had been adding the finishing touches to her latest diary entry and as she did so she noticed it was quite a warm evening in Paradise. She removed her size XL jacket and swung it around the back of the chair, she "wasn't much to look at, but there was much to look at" as her infamous boss PeterPerttits had so kindly put it one day. Suffering from what the docs called a thyroid problem and what Petey called an eating too much you fat fuck problem, Lerano was a large woman, with a flat chest, short bleached blonde hair and a nose piercing, everything screamed out lesbian and as such she had been given the nickname Lerano the Lesbian, or Lerano the Lezza as she much preferred.

As she closed the diary she picked up her jacket and walked out of the palace and into the street, she noticed a couple of women walking by the palace and eyed them up for a while before penning this letter in the hope that someone would find it.

"It has been almost 2 weeks since the Palace was erected in a run down titty bar in Paradise, Las Vegas and so far it has been inspiring to say the least. From fart competitions, to naked cartwheels, to our very own Petey P blowing his own trumpet wherever he can, by which I mean performing fellatio on himself. He's not well endowed but he is rather bendy.

No doubt those on the outside are dying to know the ins and outs of Pert Palace and find out what goes on in our ever illustrious HQ and so I thought I'd come out and let some of you read my diary.

Try not to cream in your pants with excitment."

March 3rd

Dear Diary

Today while I was walking around looking for some hot snatch to scissor, I stumbled across a complete shit hole with piss stained carpets, rotting walls and an old hag called Roxy who had her tits tucked into her thong. Definitely not the kind of snatch I was looking for but I needed a drink. That's when I saw him. The self proclaimed king of this piss tip. He introduced himself as Petey P and stated that he had no idea what to call the place but that it had just opened and he was looking for people to work for him (what a whore). Since I was short on cash I asked what working for him entailed. "Robbing old people, shitting on some guy called handlebarz's doorstep and generally acting like a big shot and bossing around small kids and more elderly people". It sounded pathetic but it was easy enough, I always enjoyed shitting on a door step or two, particularly in protest when a bar or any other establishment kicked me out for being too handsy with the waitresses.

So I accepted his offer and was invited out back to where the king of the piss tramps ran his operation. Here he told me it was his vision to eventually expand as at the minute the place could only sleep 10 people, in order to do this we had to extort as many old peoples homes as we could find. So myself, Petey Pisstits and some other unimportant people set to it and began doing the rounds and threatening anyone we thought we could get away with. We managed to raise $38 and we celebrated back at the dump with a half bottle of scotch we took off some tramp and a go on Roxy each.

 

March 4th

Dear Diary

Today I slept most of the day, Pisstits kept knocking on my door but I told him to fuck off. He asked if I wanted to go and make some more money, he found a school down the road where we could rob some kids lunch money but I told him no, later on he knocked on my door again, crying because some child had took the $18 he had earned. I woke up in the evening to Roxy's screams of pleasure, either we had a customer or Petey had the broom out again, it was like throwing a sausage up an alleyway with that dame and Petey was a few inches short of 5. I went to the kitchen to grab a drink and then went back to sleep.

 

March 5th

Dear Diary

We've had some more guys join our small shitty crew, they're mostly young kids that Pisstits had bullied into giving him their lunch money but they're willing to help with robbing old people, with more of us around we can earn more money now and there'll be more shit on handlebarz's doorstep too, he still doesn't know who it is, especially since he's been locked up by the Gods. We went out tonight and earned a shit load of cash, we gave Roxy the night off and ordered a couple of half decent escorts in for the night, I gave them both a good scissoring and the boys started cheering me on, Lerano the Lezza they've now begun calling me. I went to bed happy and drunk.

 

March 6,7,8th

Dear Diary

I'm hungover.

The end.

 

March 12th

Dear Diary

I am so glad I found you, after my killer hangover things started getting more interesting, we now have around 6 or 7 guys in our crew. Petey thinks he's a fucking king and keeps ordering everyone around and walking about with an air of importance. The titty bar has had a makeover and we got a load of Poles on the job to expand the property, we can now fit 40 people in this shit tip which has been aptly named Pert Palace. Dorian, one of the new guys has shacked up with Roxy. She has gobbled him up and spat him out several times and last night he cried to me because he knew she was being unfaithful. Poor Dorian, he doesn't even know I finger blasted her last night, I better stay quiet so that it doesn't tip him completely over the edge. PeteyP needs members, we can't have them offing themselves over the crew slut.

"Due to the unfortunately circumstances of death surrounding all the willing contestants, there is no winner. However I am pleased to award some prizes to the two that entered."

Fuego takes a step forward into the street.

"If you are the son of Dany or Cato please contact me and I will arrange something for your father's efforts in this. Thank you few for your devoted time. Maybe I'll try to run a different kind of contest next time."