The sun was shining, and the air was calm, over all it was a very pleasant day. So you might wonder why I was standing in a grave yard, pissing on a head stone.
It's ok; it is my wife's headstone.
My name is Vinnie Pergolizzi and I'm a mob boss.
I tried to trace the letters of her name, but my bladder ran out first. Marlene Pergolizzi is a long name and I'm getting older. Lower capacity you know.
I looked at the stone, it was a double. It was designed for a husband and wife to rest in peace together for eternity, or at least until some builder wanted to put a development on this land. I knew I'd never join her there. To be exact, my side said, "I will not lie next to a Slut," under the "Husband" banner.
Her side said, "She took the easy was out-Suicide", beside the birth and death dates.
You should have heard the complaints from the committee that oversaw this grave yard. They bitched and moaned about the inscriptions as "Not being fitting for their Community."
Well I'm a really nasty bastard and they didn't stand a chance. After "my boys" talked to a few members, all but one woman agreed to the inscription.
Now that woman was a fat old bitch. She had a little money, and thought she ruled the world. I had some "friends" break both her legs.
While she was recovering in the hospital, her house burnt down, twice because the damn fire department reacted a little too quickly the first time. The second time the department was reacting to a false alarm across town when her house started again.
This time they were only able to save the basement.
Yep, I told you I was a bastard.
She moved out of state, permanently.
Looking at the date, I realized that Marlene had been here about 6 years now. I examined my heart and found I still hated her. Well she did piss me off. She died before I could make her suffer for breaking my heart.
Ok, I've got a little free time, so I'll go back and tell you all about it.
I grew up in a rough neighborhood. A neighborhood where you either joined a gang or you got the shit beat out of you daily. I wasn't exactly stupid, I joined a gang. These gangs were ethnic; the one I joined was Italian just like I was.
I graduated from high school, and went to the local community college. Believe me that was an accomplishment for my neighborhood. The local "godfather" invited me to join his society because I had finished college. It was an invitation one didn't turn down.
My life in crime was set in cement from that point on.
I met my late wife about five years later. I was running a successful new car dealership. Did you ever notice that mob operated businesses were always successful. Some of them never seemed to do any business, but always had cash. The other businesses had no completion, figures.
I had a new car dealership that only had competition from other mob owned businesses, like I said, "No real competition."
I met Marlene on a trip I took to Las Vegas. It was an auto dealer's convention and I was going there just for fun. She was a cocktail waitress there.
We both had things the other liked at first sight. I had lots of money and was spending like a drunken sailor, and she had great tits. Well actually she had a lot more going for her, but I'm a guy and guess what I noticed first, the second thing I liked about her I saw when she turned around and walked away.
OK, so she had a great ass too.
She came up to our table and asked, "Can I take you order?"
I, of course, had a million pickup lines in my head; I opted for, "Yes."
One of the other guys at the table ordered a bottle of Jack Daniel's and six glasses.
She counted five of us and asked," Who's the sixth one for? Expecting someone else?"
"You darling, of course." The bastard replied.
She gave him a big smile and giggled. "Can I have the rest of your orders, please?"
And that's how the evening went. My buddy was scoring big time and I was putting my foot in my mouth at every opportunity.
She went off shift at midnight. The guys hit their rooms, and I went into the diner for a late night snack.
I picked one with a buffet and was standing there trying to make up my mind when I heard, "Why can't you make up your mind? You did fine in the lounge."
I spun around to give whoever it was a piece of my mind when I looked into a million watt smile. Our waitress from the lounge was standing next to me.
She said, "The foods really good here. Let me help you choose. Oh and by the way, my name's Marlene."
We ate together and talked. Boy did we talk! It was 4:00 am when we left. She asked, "Can we meet for a snack tomorrow night?" And we did, every night for the next four nights. It would have been longer but I had a flight out.
Two weeks later, I was back and we had continued our late night snacks. At the end of the first week we had breakfast in bed also before going back to sleep. We needed the rest.
By the time I was there for a week, she agreed to home with me on a trial basis. Our trial basis lasted about 18 months before we married in a civil ceremony. We didn't want our daughter to be born out of wedlock.
Three years later our son was born. I was complete. I had a beautiful wife and two great kids and I was moving up in the crime organization. My car dealership was doing nicely, but my piece of the organization was really bringing in the bucks. Crime really does pay if you are smart enough not to get caught.
I was very smart.
The years went by, both my kids were in high school and my wife was a stay at home mom, trying to spend all my money at the local malls. Things were going great until I went to lunch with some of my friends in the family.
Now I don't want to upset you. The lunch went off without a hitch. We talked business (in code) and had a great meal. The unpleasantness happened when I was getting in my car to go back to the dealership. There was a large manila envelope lying on my passenger seat. My name was on the outside.
For some reason I knew I shouldn't open it until I got back to my office. The paper shredder was there. It might be information about the "organization" that I would read once and destroy.
When I opened the envelope in my office, I got the shock of my life. There were 8x10 photos of my wife having sex with other men. That's right, "other men". They were not gang bang photos, but my lovely wife having one-on-one sex with six different men. Each photo appeared to be taken in different bedrooms, each with a different man.
There was a typewritten report also in the envelope. The report stated that my wife was part of a group that met and changed partners one or two times a week. The report went on to say that none of the participants were married to any of the others in the group. The report listed names, address, spouses, number of children, motel room numbers, and dates the "meetings" took place.
I had enough information for any good divorce lawyer to ply his trade. The only problem is that in my line of business, divorces caused "lose of face." If man in my field of work (and I didn't mean the car dealership) couldn't control his wife it was thought he was too weak to control his territory.
The wives of most of my associates understood the score. When asked if they'd cheat, most replied, "Not on your life, my husband would kill me."
And they meant exactly that.
It appeared that my stupid wife didn't understand that.
Well I guess it's time to teach her a lesson.
My first thought was just to have them all disappear, but then I realized that 12 individuals vanishing all at once just had to raise suspicion with the police. And when the cops figured out that one of the "disappearances" was my wife, the shit would hit the fan. So I couldn't take the easy way out.
So I started my planning. The first thing I needed to know was exactly what the extent of the problem was and spread the word that I knew it was happening and was in the process of retribution. I then let it be known why I just didn't whack them.
Before Marlene screwed over me, I got along with the local cops and the county sheriffs. I tried to make sure that any of my enterprises did not cause them any extra work. They appreciated the thoughtfulness.
If their personal vehicle broke down on the street, I'd send out a tow truck from my dealership, to help if possible or tow them where ever they wanted. If the car broke down on their wife or girlfriend, my tow operators would bring them back to the dealership and let them use one of our loaners.
If they asked, we would repair the car. The towing and the loaner were part of our service and not charged to the police officer. If their car need repair, the labor was free and the parts were at my cost. I also offered installment payments if the repairs proved too costly for the officer.
If the officer dropped his car off for routine service (oil changes, tire changes, and such). We washed and waxed the vehicle and detailed the interior. I think that little courtesy made us the most friends on the force.
When it came time for a police officer to need a new personal vehicle, I gave them the vehicle at my cost whether it was new or used. I also carried the financing for them at zero interest.
If they brought in their patrol car, we'd clean that too. You'd be surprised how often drunks vomited in the back or scared kids lost bladder control when handcuffed and put in the back seat.
.... There is more of this story ...