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In with the Mob

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“So you asked for our services”, said one of the guys. I could tell he meant business because of the way he spoke. I could not believe what has transpired over the last few months. I was the owner of one of the most prestigious restaurants/bars in New York. Everybody who was somebody was there. From movie stars to business tycoons, even the governor was a usual client. Everything was going great for me in the year 1919, until the 18th amendment was passed stating that alcoholic beverage could not be manufactured, distributed, or sold. How was my restaurant going to survive? I mean the total profit came from whiskey, rum, and wine. I was certainly doomed. There was only one thing I could do to save my investment, keep selling alcohol, even if it was now illegal. But before I could sell it, I needed to find a way to buy it. In New York, you need to look no farther than the Mafia. I knew it was a decision I would regret.

“What was the deal?” one of the police officers asked. “It was real simple. As long as the Mafia would bring the alcohol on a monthly basis, I would owe them a tax and a fee. I would owe them a certain tax for each gallon of alcohol, and a fee for the whole shipment. And at the end of the month I would give them a 40% cut of the profits from the restaurant.” I said. “So why would you want to turn yourself in now?” one of the major officers said. “Well everything was going great at first. Business was even bigger than before, until people got scared because mobsters started showing up in the restaurant. So a lot of people stopped coming, so nobody was buying anything. So I couldn’t pay them anymore. I mean I could pay for the tax and the fee but I could not give them a cut at the end of the month. They put up with it for a little while but then they could not deal with it.” The officer was really nervous and was tapping his pencil on the desk violently. “So what happened after?” “They were nice about it at first, kind of joking around about it, saying that I still owe them some money so they were entitled to some free drinks.” “That’s not so bad, except that alcohol is illegal,” the officer chuckled. “Don’t you think I already know that?” I stated. “Anyway, then they started giving me phone calls at night politely saying that they needed their money. I did all I could to try to avoid them; I even put someone else to take my place when they came in the bar. But request started becoming into threats. One night they left a note at my door stating, “WE WANT OUR MONEY!!!!” And the next day at my restaurant I found all my windows shattered and tables flipped upside down and broken into pieces. And all my alcohol was all on the floor in a pool of black liquid. And that’s why I came here. I thought I wouldn’t get as much in trouble if I had gotten myself caught, and I most certainly do not want to die. Please help me.” “If you tell us the specific whereabouts of your “friends”, I would gladly ensure you your safety and promise no jail time.” he demanded. I started singing like a bird. The next day on my way to the police station I picked up the daily news paper. The headline: “Massive Mafia Family Caught by Police with a tip from an Anonymous Subject!” When I got to the police station they told me about a new project they were working on called “The witness protection program”. They said that they were going to change my name legally and put me in another city so that no one could recognize who I was and I would ever have to be scared again. I had to start my life all over again. There was no other choice. My name, my home, and my life, were all in the past now. I really didn’t want to leave, but I knew that I had to. In a couple of days I had to pack up all my things and go.
When I got to this new city, it was hard for me to adjust at first. I still couldn’t believe that I was a totally different person now. I adjusted eventually. After I got all settled in, I decided to open up a nice restaurant. And this time everything was legal.





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