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| How Harold went from stoner to stoned mobster. | Started by: Harold on May 20, '17 05:02 |
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After moving into the Beautiful city of Detroit i was unpacking my belongings into my new office, when i came across a box...What? I thought i told the delivery men to leave this...I thought to myself opening the box labeled "My past" sifting through some of my most valuable memories i can across a note book. I pick it up, grab a glass and some whiskey and sit down and read through it. OCTOBER 4TH 1927 (Age 17) I've heard stories of a better life in America, my father went over there on business and when ever he comes back he had a new gift for me each time.. whenever i asked him what he did he just says "La Cosa Nostra, la famiglia." And never a word more, i have family over in America? We where a poor family, so how did they get there? Then it hit me. This thing of ours. It was crime... Uncle Jimmy was serving 35 years in an American prison, for something organised, never know what, didn't really care. But it interests me, crime, the way you can take what isn't yours and make it yours without paying for it. Me and the boys have somethings to do tomorrow, it exited me waiting for the day to come... |
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Harold smiles and puts the note book on the table, he enjoyed reminiscing about his past, it was entertaining, showed him how he used to be, and what he has become, quite the adventure in such a short time. He filled up his glass and took a sip before taking a joint from his pocket, biting of the end and lighting it up before picking the notebook back up and reading the next page. OCTOBER 5 1927 We finally did it, what a rush, we actually held up a store, it was fast, clean and a okay take, 5000 lira each. Joey jumped over the counter and emptied the register while i held the gun to the clerks head, while Alex was outside in the car. So many feeling ran through my body, adrenaline, fear, even some happiness. As soon as we got out of the store we hopped in the car, Alex hit the accelerator and flew down the street, nearly knocking a kid off his bicycle, we where no strangers to speed, we used to joyride my father's car all the time, but this time was different, it was stolen and used in a crime, a crime that we all loved... Maybe we'll do even more criminal activities... Maybe we'll knock over a bank... |
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| Reply by: Harold at May 20, '17 12:38 | |
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