You wander the streets aimlessly, your suit old, worn out and tarnished. Bar after bar you try to catch even a whisper of a wonderful tailor, your mind is in a haze, you must of had at least twelve drinks before you found a glimmer of hope. A group of men all wearing fancy matching suits, the leader spinning his watch as he walked up to the bar. Quite the intimidating group, but you've been in worse gangs. So you walk up to the leader, tap him on the shoulder and ask,"Pardon me good sir, but where did you receive such a fine suit?"

The man smiled and said,"Word on the street was that there's this new tailor that opened up in every city, the one that just opened up in Chicago is next to this Karaoke type bar, the do some good stand up performances some of it singing some of it comedy as well whether intentional or not tis funny nonetheless, but uh the tailor was called, hmm... Godly? Heavenly? Holy? Yeah that's it Holy tailoring. Some sort of crazy Prophet runs it I guess; but I must say he did do quite the job with these suits, quick service as well, musta took something like an hour for these suits."
"What all of them?" you ask. The man just smiled and nodded, you leave a 20 on the table and thank the man. On the way out you snatch a trench coat to cover your worn out suit, you head over to the southern end of town and find a small tailor shop just like the man said next to the singing bar.


You walk into the tailor store and the suits line the walls, some finished others... not so finished. You see a thuggish man behind the counter with a needle and thread, quite the sight you grin and then giggle, coughing afterwards to cover for the brief few seconds of disrespect. You walk up to the counter and say,"Is this a tailoring store?"
The man grunts and says,"What's it to ya boy?"
"Not one for formality's" you think as he coughs. "A suit! that's what's it to me sir." You say to intimidate the man. The stands up, a tower he is 6 foot 4 you estimate. The man grabs a measuring tool you've never seen before! And not in a good sense it was rather crude and unusual, the man measures you top to bottom, after a few grunts he calls for his partner. A rather round man comes running of a hidden back room, with more measuring tools and what looked to be two metal tooth picks. The man measures you tops to bottom as well after removing the trench coat, he uses the tooth picks to measure your limbs and joints. The round man then runs into the back room and comes racing back with the measurements and silky material handing them both over to the thuggish man, the thuggish man then raised an eyebrow. He then says,"The name's Prophet, but you can call me 'Mr Prophet' and that fella' there he's my partner and assistant Gabriel, but to you he's Mr Capone. Now I can have this suit done up in a jiffy if you'd like?"
After Prophet finishes his measurements he takes his seat behind the counter, Mr Capone races back into his hidden room and while Prophet, awaits your reply, you stand there almost dumbfounded by this unlikely pair, and are at a loss for words at this thug who tailored fine suits of top of the line quality man, then you remember what a fine job he did for those thugs and say,"...

A craz'ed'ed fashionable tune came over the soothin' soul'tune of the USS IU57 DD91 ZMSG found hisself floatin' down the street'z in his own vessel. The little kid bummin' the corner had all sorts of tale'z he had quack't about an abandon't shack. Interest't in see'n'r'tweetin'what holler for who'n'z kin'z hoot'n'nanny? The patrol was already on deck, the 2 pigs that could flyy were already in their prefer't location'n'autto'z. The 3 pro patrolla'z had alred'ty been roll't'er'duh kin'dred. Bow to the bow with a stern resurfacing, ZMSG's paddy cap was already where it needed to be sat. It appear'z the McHamBergler'z MickyyFrie'zd'ya Mumm'z KUNT'z with his entire fuckin' d/vision had resurface't. 

Chuck'Ze'Kuntzz Overboar't

With a helter to a skelter you never woulda guessed ya, a crack of a gun in the distance.

Gunbrigadier General of his own Handcannons was never prepared for Education to set in. He felt a sensation within himself, and it wasn't just any kind of an'ation he thought he saw the sea for what the sea truly was, what it is, who it was for, and where it came from. Suddenly the chirp of a skeeter landing a perfect stick on the young mans right arm. The motion of the ocean was activated. He immediately DART't tow'erdz duh car. 

The Mickey underneath his soul really had soldato's toe and the fingertip'z of a feckin devil. Those kicker stickkz with the devilz mixx must'er'd bee workin'n. Stern bow the Bow of the bow into the passenger side window, starboard armcannon to the 1921 say'zit4me port'r side aCannon support'z the sternum of his hand'z new vessel'edge to toy with. After all, it was the middle of the feck'nN day for emm. Eh laddy'z, he thought to his drumm'n'bum salu'toot'r as he rolls to the ballz of his feet. He slides back into his own pants as he rolls to the heels, hips following the motion set by the feet by staying bent as he rolls out of the passenger side window, the Thompson ready to rundown anyone that came with'en his visible spectr'um'dum'drumma drum'z drum. Port'r side pointer toe picks the angle as it steps back towards the sounds of the footsteps followin' the gunshots. A shit-eater's grin overcame him as his tongue sticks out to the left side of his face. Mobb'n Since Ben'Mobb'n Benn'Mobb'n Bin Laden Beeyotch. Witchitaw'kz Fowl strikes againn. He pursues.

USS ZMSG catche'z up with one of his patroll'n gunshipz. Sprayinn at a group of men fleein' a scene. ZMSG rattle'z off 7 shotz, 5 at 1 of the men, and 2 at the other. All 7 Konnectted inJunction with the juxto3z'position.