british gangsta thing

May 12, 2009
By Matt Kortum BRONZE, Lincoln, Nebraska
Matt Kortum BRONZE, Lincoln, Nebraska
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

“Oi, wanna go take a gander at the local talent at the battle cruiser? Then we can pick up some skag from the smarmy round the way.” Crazy-eyed Nicky said to Ralph the bookie.

Crazy-eyed Nicky and Ralph the bookie moseyed in to the pub, calm as a coma, and ordered an Aristotle of the strongest ping pong tidily in the nuclear sub. The bar tender, butter knife Veronica, so named because of how she dealt with bar patrons that refused to pay their tabs, poured their drinks.

So Ralph was in debt to Vinnie Marino, the head of the American mafia in the south side of London. His sketchy bookkeeping on bets placed by local mobsters prompted the mob to look into his finances and realized he had been skimming money off the top for a profit for the last year, and they informed him he had to come up with the money by the end of the month, which was two weeks away.

Ralph was sipping his drink, thinking he only had two weeks to live, when he saw Tony the fixer and Angelo leather chest sitting across the room. Ralph knew the Russians, who were business partners with the Americans, were running shipments of heroin into the country and from there, transporting the money made in unarmed cars to the national bank to be shipped to illegitimate businesses in the Caribbean to be laundered, and from there, wired into the accounts of the Russians.

Ralph walks over to Tony and Angelo, “OY! How about a pint?”

“Depends who’s buying.” Replied Tony.

“I’m looking for a couple hired guns to run a quick job for me, and you get thirty percent.”

Tony turns to Angelo and mumbles something. He turns back to Ralph.

“Time and the place and who we are dealing with.”

“Two nights from now, Pier 25 on the east side, and don’t worry about who.”

Two Nights Later

“Ay, you think it’s a tad fishy that that bloke wouldn’t tell us who we are dealing with?” asked Tony.

“I figure it’s probably best we don’t know so were in the clear.”

Ralph had mistaken these two guys for hardened criminals when in reality, they were a couple of drunks that sat at the pub, going on drunken rants about things that never happened, thus giving them their reputations.

That is when Tony got a call from Crazy-eyed Nicky, “Oy, I thought I might want to warn you guys, after recent suspicions the men in the car will be armed.”

“Armed? What do you mean armed? Armed with what?”

“Bad breath, colorful language… guns! They will be armed with guns.” As Nicky hung up.

Tony and Angelo started the car and drove towards the point where they were supposed to rob the Russians. They sped toward the intersection and skidded to a halt, they got out with guns drawn. See, they had 25 year old pistols they found in Tony’s dad’s storage unit, and the Russians had AK-47s. The Russians, immediately assessing the threat, let out a flurry of bullets into the tiny car.

“Do you know who you are screwing with!?” the huge Russian screamed.

“I’ve been shot!” Yelled Angelo.

“Then shoot them back!”

They let off a few rounds and jumped into the car and sped away.

“Were dead, were dead, were dead...” muttered Tony.

Four Days Earlier

“Where is that idiot!?” screamed Vinnie Marino. “Noice of you to show up!”

“Sorry Vinnie, traffic was horrendous; it was all backed up all the way to 73rd.” Angelo replied apologetically.

“Alright, now that you’re here, we can get to the issue at hand. The Russians have been running heroin and guns out of Laos and Thailand through Russia, paying customs officials along the way. This has been a little tough on them because of the increased pressure from the DEA and other American organizations.
In the UK, doctors can prescribe diamorphine, which is basically medical heroin. The Russians have put a plethora of doctors on their pay roll. Every Friday they go pick it up, chop it down, and have it on the street by Saturday. They chop their stuff down with anything they can get their hands on, and since they can sell theirs for a fraction of the price, our profits have been hit pretty hard. So we want to hit them where they are most vulnerable, when they are transporting the weekly profit to the ship yard from the Pier. It’s usually only a 15 minute drive so you will need to hit them fast. Now we don’t want any of this to come back to us, got it?”

“Right, what do we do with the money?”

“Whatever you want you idiot, I said, this doesn’t come back to us! Now make like a tree, and get out of here!”

Four Days Later During the Robbery


They could hear the crackle of gun fire just down the street. AK’s have a very distinct sound.
“And there’s our queue.”
The little white car riddled with bullet holes sped away. The Russians were running after them, unloading clip after clip into the tiny car. Black smoke was bellowing out of the hood, it swerved to the left and smashed right into a parked car, the Russians were half a block away from their car, leaving it unguarded. The air was filled with the scent of gunpowder and blood.
Crazy-eyed Nicky and Ralph the bookie got out of their car, crouched and slowly made their way towards the black Mercedes that was still running. The hopped in and floored it. The inside was warm, and he had to scoot the seat up because the Russians were massive.
The Russians turned around just in time to get smashed by the Mercedes flying at them at 60 mph.
“Hahaha, was that really necessary Ralph?”
“Probably not, but its two less Russians we will have to deal with.”

Three Days Later
Ralph heard a knock at the door.
“What the hell do you want?” he mumbled in a drunken daze
“Vinnie wants to see you.”
“I still got a couple days mate.”
“Boofriggidyhoo, He wants to see you now.”

Later That Day

Ralph walked into the strip club on the east side owned by Vinnie. The smell of alcohol and cigarettes filled the air. He looked over as he was walking by and saw a couple junkies tweaking out in the corner. “Dirty scoundrels.” He mumbled to himself.
“Ralph! Just the guy I was lookin for! Please, take a seat!”
“I still got a couple days Vinnie.”
“Yea, but word on the street is you caught a pretty good score a couple days ago and I’m willin to settle this now. Give me that money now and I wont kill you. Or i spose, we could do this the hard way…”
“You got it Vinnie, its all in my account.”
“Haha! I knew you’d come through! That’s why I didn’t kill you right away! Boys, get this moron out of my sight. I got business to attend to.”

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This article has 1 comment.

on Aug. 20 2009 at 12:06 pm
Scarlette Sutton BRONZE, Newhaven, California
2 articles 0 photos 3 comments
Do you get some sick pleasure out of mangling the enlish language? I just want to rip my hair out!

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