M.S.R.P. II

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PostPosted: Tue May 02, 2006 1:50 am 
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Filippo examined the hands that spun on his wristwatch and realized he was missing the basketball game on television. He was muttering vulgarities, detached from his partner’s dialogue with the wrinkly, cosmeticized receptionist. When his focus slipped back into the present context, he deduced from a few sentences swapped that Mr. Tzu was absent on a supposed business venture in Atlantic City. The reptilian lady added, “Though if you’ll just leave me your names and where to-” The sentence disintegrated as the Sicilian juggernaut loped past her desk and into the corridors, insouciant to her squeals and scolding. Capponi’s was wearing a full toothy smile as he grappled with the bolts and latches, locking the entrance and restraining the secretary with but a daunting glower.

A distant banter crescendoed as the Phil bore down on a certain door, and detected a multitude behind it. His paw twisted the knob and he emerged in the threshold to the bewilderment of the staff. Three people, two aged employees and a youthful man were ensconced in cushiony fittings, quaffing coffee. Nobody sprung up in a blistering fury, especially not to Phil.. but besides, these were ginger, soft spoken folk who’s business was dolling up the dead and sticking ‘em in grossly overpriced mahogany crates. The young blood seemed as though he were to detest and shatter the silence, but conflicting thoughts pervaded his skull when the pistol in the stranger’s belt glimmered in his eye. “Who in charge?” was Phil’s inquiry. All hush. It was the woman who resembled Joan Baez that responded, albeit shakily, “No..nobody. Our boss is in Atlantic City.” Phil carried his cannonball body closer to the trio of staff, menacingly, and the other gangster entered the room with the receptionist under his eye, who pouted quietly and clutched a dossier. “We’re new bosses. Mr. Tzu no…eh, up for the job. You work for us now, yes? For our friends. We come, we collect our profit like.. Tzu. Understanding?” This time the youthful embalmer rose fully, defiantly, and dispensed some queries of his own. “Now what exactly is going on here?” Filippo yanked the sheen Ruger from his waistband and allowed the barrel to thoroughly answer as it plummeted into the feller’s facial region for a solid seven seconds over and over. Following what is colloquially referred to as the pistol whipping, and the embalmer’s raw, ravaged, and warped visage harbored no more questions, Capponi snatched the dossier into his grip, brandishing it, and announced, “Now don’t nunna-yah go snitch, because right in these here papers we got your address, your phone number! We know where you sleep, capice? So you better, uh, you know, adjust to the, er, shift in leadership, eh?” By now both women were spraying geysers of tears and the senior gentleman seemed to have filled his trousers with fecal matter. Filippo glared down at them – humble, hardworking, terrified folk. “Capice? Phil imitated. In unison, the three remaining employees, curiously enough, echoed – “Capice.” The gangsters grimaced as they slinked out, having branded their threats onto the unwitting workers’ brains. The Mafiosi duo were fairly confident that their measures of intimidation would dissuade the slightest inclination twoards police involvement. The men and women, entangled in shady affairs of proprietary rights, abided. What more could they do?

Phil unlocked the DeVille and they climbed within the cocoa-brown auto, coasting out of Clinton and towards the guinea districts.

Requests:
- Transfer Ownership of Shady Heights Funeral Home & Staff NPCs to Provenzano Family – funds received by Phil.

That was a sucky roleplay, but I don’t give a hoot. Screw you, suckfish, and approve mein caper.

_________________
Filippo Bellomo – Provenzano Wiseguy

Earthly Possesions:

- '71 DeVille
- Remmington 12 Gauge
- Ruger .45 Auto Pistola
- 2 Foot Long Penis


Time flies like the wind, and fruit flies like bananas.


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PostPosted: Wed May 03, 2006 2:59 pm 
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Hmmm...I have no clue what a suckfish is, but I Approve your request.

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Gun Mod.

Mild manner gun mod by day,
*dons cape and spandex*
Super Moderator Coma Black by night!


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