Post by Leonardo on Jan 11, 2014 1:30:59 GMT -6
It was 6 O'clock in the morning. It was freezing outside, and the ground was slick and moist. Needless to say, not a soul was in a good mood, and everyone wanted to fight one another. Horns were honked, fist flew, and voices were raised.
The Dog's of Bensonhurst were no exception.
Just outside the shelter, the humans were throwing away breakfast food, scooping it into pans and dumping it outside for the stray dogs that came around to clean up. There were usually four or five dogs that came around, and warded off the others, taking what they needed and leaving the rest. The humans always thought that was strange. But of course, they didn't know any better.
It had already been a busy day for Toni Valentino. He had been in 3 fights--one of which ended in death, the other two a result of sleeping with another man's girl. He had caused a car accident, tore a pant leg, and stolen some bagels from two old people. It was all in a days work for someone unemployed and with no friends. He was actually doing pretty damn good. It was all he ever did. Fucking shit up since 1961. He was still hungry though, and when he saw the group of dogs eating, he took it upon himself to join them. He didn't bother to introduce himself. No need.
As he started to bite into the scrambled eggs, someone pushed him off. "Bug off, ratface." He spat at his feet. "This is Mancini members only."
So this was about those stupid street gangs, right? Please. He stood like a stone, unmovable. Without hesitation, he whispered something inaudible.
"What was that?" The wiseguy leaned in closer.
Toni bit clean through his ear and spat the tip off right in front of the howling dog.
"FUCK Leonardo Mancini. And whoever else thinks they can tell me where and where not to eat."
The other thugs growled. "That's Tony Valentine! You've done it now, you punk." They were ready to rip him apart.
The Dog's of Bensonhurst were no exception.
Just outside the shelter, the humans were throwing away breakfast food, scooping it into pans and dumping it outside for the stray dogs that came around to clean up. There were usually four or five dogs that came around, and warded off the others, taking what they needed and leaving the rest. The humans always thought that was strange. But of course, they didn't know any better.
It had already been a busy day for Toni Valentino. He had been in 3 fights--one of which ended in death, the other two a result of sleeping with another man's girl. He had caused a car accident, tore a pant leg, and stolen some bagels from two old people. It was all in a days work for someone unemployed and with no friends. He was actually doing pretty damn good. It was all he ever did. Fucking shit up since 1961. He was still hungry though, and when he saw the group of dogs eating, he took it upon himself to join them. He didn't bother to introduce himself. No need.
As he started to bite into the scrambled eggs, someone pushed him off. "Bug off, ratface." He spat at his feet. "This is Mancini members only."
So this was about those stupid street gangs, right? Please. He stood like a stone, unmovable. Without hesitation, he whispered something inaudible.
"What was that?" The wiseguy leaned in closer.
Toni bit clean through his ear and spat the tip off right in front of the howling dog.
"FUCK Leonardo Mancini. And whoever else thinks they can tell me where and where not to eat."
The other thugs growled. "That's Tony Valentine! You've done it now, you punk." They were ready to rip him apart.