The Moolie.

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The Moolie.

Post by Soapy » 06 Dec 2018, 03:51

"Could you please speak up so that the microphone will pick it up, sir?"

The old man brooded before scooting up in his chair, clearing his throat.

"Donte Mollicone."

"Mr. Mollicone, what was your relationship with Mr. Charles DiMio in the 1980s?"

"We were friends," he shrugged as he sunk back into his chair.

"Please speak into the microphone sir,"

He was clearly agitated as he once again crept up closer to the microphone, "He was my friend, ma'am."

Every time he spoke, Donte would pull out a handkerchief to wipe off the spittle that dripped from his mouth onto his beard. The questioning went on for about an hour, maybe even an hour and a half and Donte was clearly exhausted. He would sometimes lean on the table or hold his head up with his hands, often being distracted and asking for the attorneys to repeat their questions only to answer them with a slurred, incoherent sentence. Their patience soon grew thin with the doddering old man as they demanded that he sat up straight, spoke into the microphone and be clear with his answers.

It was a sight to behold, especially given who Donte Mollicone. Who he was.


"They always skim on the fucking cheese," Martin said in disgust as he slapped his half-eaten sandwich on the counter.

"Just get extra cheese then," Jamie looked at Martin with a puzzled face, "You complain about that shit every time."

"That's what they want you to do," Martin waved his finger in her face.

She didn't take kindly to his mansplaining and smacked his hand out of her face. Using the same left hand, Martin pressed his palm against her face and as she tried to slap his hand away again, he just applied even more pressure. Jamie got up and grabbed her drink but a single stare from Donte returned order to the chaos.

"Always fucking playing," she said as she sat down and returned to eating her soggy fries, the same ones she always complained about.

"What about this?" Donte turned the newspaper around to show Martin the job listing for some painters.

"I'm not painting no white man's fucking apartment," Martin scoffed, "You on your own, boss."

"It says two people," Donte insisted.

"He can't read," Jaime quipped, drawing a sour look from Martin but he left it alone.

"You need to start coming outside duke," Martin let out a chuckle as he waved the newspaper away, "It's real money out here, not no fucking piece of change."

"You ain't seen a dime yet," Jaime continued to antagonize Martin but he refused to take the bait.

"She's right," Donte tossed the newspaper in front of him, "You keep talking about being ten toes down, all this other bullshit yet you still eating dollar burgers with us and rocking the same fake chains you had when I met you."

"Fuck outta here," Martin sucked his teeth, "I'm building a fucking enterprise, I'm not no dummy that's going to spend the first few bit of money I have."

"Is that what we're calling you being Bernard's lap dog?" Jaime finally managed to under his skin.

"I ain't nobody's lap dog, bitch!" Martin swiped his hand against her drink, causing it to spill on her as he got up and put his hands on her neck.

Donte quickly got up and broke them up but they had gotten the attention of the entire store, including the owner of the restaurant.

"Get the fuck out of here!" yelled one of the workers as two guys -- apparent cooks -- came from the kitchen.

"We're leaving," Donte said as he grabbed Martin by the arm and guided him to the exit, careful to keep Jamie at a safe distance as well.

"Fucking moolies!"

"What'd you call us?" Jamie snapped back in the general direction of the cashier, not sure who it was that said it.

Both Jamie and Martin redirected their anger away from each other and towards the workers as they started to approach the two workers and the cashier that were now just a few feet away from them.

"Let it go," Donte tried to calm them down but when he went to grab Martin's shoulder, all he saw was the flash of a chrome object being pulled from the back of his waist.

"Yeah, bitch!" Martin yelled out as he waved the gun in front of the workers, swaying it from side to side.

"What the fuck?!" Donte screamed out as Jamie quickly ran out of the store along with all of it's other patrons.

"Don't fucking move, don't fucking move!" Martin continued to yell to the co-workers as he got closer to the cash register, "Hey sweetheart, put the fucking money...."

Martin looked around and emptied out the cardboard box on the cash register counter that held the napkins, "Put the money in there!"

"I can't open it!" yelled the cashier, a fair-skinned girl that was perhaps straight out of high school. The two other workers that had came from the kitchen just stood still as Martin rotated from pointing the gun at the cashier and then to them.

"Make a fucking order then," Martin instructed, "Let me get a frisco melt with extra cheese, honey!"

Martin got a kick out of his joke, a joke that only him and Donte would understand. Donte was in no laughing mood as he contemplated bailing on his friend or perhaps even disarming him. He knew that if he left, there was a good chance that those two guys would make a move on Martin and likely result in at least one of them getting shot, if not killed.

The cashier frantically placed the order, which opened the register and soon enough, she placed about $80 dollars worth of bills into the cardboard box.

"Let's fucking go!" Donte yelled out as he took a peak out the window. The mass exodus from the restaurant had drawn attention but nothing major yet as people were sort of wandering closer to the restaurant, not sure what was happening. As soon as Dante turned around to see what Martin was up to, he let off a gunshot into the back of the restaurant followed by a deep, roaring laughter before making a dash to the exit.

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The Moolie.

Post by Soapy » 06 Dec 2018, 04:13

The loud knock on the door awoken Donte out of his sleep. He quickly got up from his bed and stared out of his window, looking for any marked police cars. It had to have been past midnight and Auntie Jenny rarely had visitors past seven o'clock, yet alone this time of the night.

There was a knock, followed by another. Maybe this wasn't the cops after all, maybe this was Martin, perhaps even Jamie? What if this was the two guys from the restaurant, looking to get payback? Surely, they wouldn't knock. They didn't look like the knocking type.

The flickering of the living room lights sent a chill down Donte's spine as he heard footsteps.

"Who is it?" Who?"

"It's your favorite Guido!" the person on the other side yelled out.

Donte heard the door open and that's when he stepped outside of his room to the sight of his uncle.

"Why you making all this damn noise?" Jennie complained as she walked away from the door, "I'm guessing he's here for you since he damn sure ain't here for me."

"I always loved you Jennifer," Bobby laughed as he gave her a hug but she shooed him away before returning to her bedroom, "The man of the hour."

Donte sheepishly walked up to him, wiping the crust out of his eyes, "What's up, uncle Bobby?"

"Apparently the price of masks," Bobby said as he sat down on the couch with his eyes fixated on his nephew, "You know they sell the ones with like the presidents face's now? I know a simple black mask can get a bit boring, maybe even like a hockey mask! That could work.....actually, anything but your stupid fucking black face would be better"

Donte just stared back at Bobby, not uttering a single word.

"You didn't think I knew or are we just going to act like you don't know what I'm talking about?"

"It wasn't..."

"Wasn't what exactly?"

"It wasn't planned," Donte sighed as he plopped down into the couch as well.

"Not shit it wasn't planned," Bobby laughed, "I figured, you know, between you blacks and your stinky fingers and what we got going on, you'd be better at this. Jesus Christ, a stick up kid?"

"How did you find out?" Donte asked, trying to piece together exactly how much trouble he was in and with who.

"Nothing happens past 42nd without me knowing kid," Bobby lit a cigarette, "And I heard some guys were looking to cap off a couple of ditsoons for robbing one of Little Al's joints so I asked around and low and behold....yours truly."

"I swear it was only like $50," Donte pleaded, "Maybe $75, I'll get it back to him."

"It's deeper than money kid," Bobby explained, "It's about appearances. It's a shitty burger joint one day, it's his fur store on 56th the next and then eventually, someone has the balls to come after him directly. Doesn't help that Vince was taken out by a couple of blacks, people are talking."

"I'm telling you," Donte continued to beg, "It just got out of hand, we didn't mean no disrespect and we had nothing to do with nothing, you know that."

"I do," Bobby got up, "They don't so you need to go and tell them that."

"Tell who?"

"Santa Claus," Bobby said with a sarcastic tone, "Big Al, who the fuck else?"
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The Moolie.

Post by Captain Canada » 06 Dec 2018, 04:44

Interesting concept. Keep writing, I'm keen to find out more about this.

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Post by Soapy » 07 Dec 2018, 13:24

Alfonso Fiore Sr. wasn't the kind of man one would just walk up to a local eatery and meet up to talk over a cannoli. People had to be summoned, space had to be cleared out and anytime Alfonso Fiore Sr. stepped outside, it was costing his organization money. Given all of these things, why the fuck did one of the most sought after man in all of New Jersey wanted to talk to the accessory of an $80 robbery?

"You've got your father's eyes," Big Al said as he flickered the tip of his cigarette with his right index finger, "I'm guessing you got the rest from your mother."

Big Al laughed as he turned to the rest of his crew that were standing behind him, about six or seven guys, and rubbed his hand across his arm. They joined him in laughter even though most of it was clearly forced.

"This the same kid from the funeral?" asked one of Big Al's guys, Joseph Manocchio. If you believed the papers, Joseph 'Joey Bags' Manocchio was Big Al's right hand man and the bag man, a connotation which held several different meaning.

"He is," Bobby replied as he put his hand against Donte's back and pushed him forward, "He's a big boy now so how about you start answer for yourself, nephew."

Donte nodded his head, still unsure of what he was doing here.

"A big boy that's going around and robbing stores," Big Al said with a chuckle as he took a sip of his scotch, "The person that runs that store is a friend of mine, do you understand the issue with that?"

"Yes, sir."

"He speaks," Big Al once again let out a wry laugh, "From my understanding, it was two of yous. Where is the other guy?"

"I don't know," Donte responded.

"You don't know? What's his name, what does he go by, who does he run with?"

Donte shrugged and shook his head.

"You don't know or you don't want to tell me?"

"I'm sorry, sir. I can't tell you that but I can tell you that I didn't know and I would ha..."

"No worries," Big Al took one more drag of his cigarette before getting up, dusting off his pants and nodding towards one of the guys around him. Joey Bags was the first to head for the door followed by two other guys and then Big Al followed afterwards. Not a word was said as the room slowly emptied before it was just Bobby and Donte.

"That's it?" Donte whispered to his uncle, unsure of what was happening.

"I got you the meeting, kid. Not everyone gets that," Bobby said as he started walking away from Donte before turning around, "You're a stand up guy at least, that means something."

Soon as Bobby said those words, the door swung open and in came in three guys with some rope and a few bats. Even as a snot-nosed, wide-eyed nineteen year old, Donte knew what time it was.


Bobby put a coat over Donte as he walked gingerly to the car. He hadn't complained about the bruises outside of a few winces here and there. It hurt to breathe and even worse to speak so words were at a minimum as they took the thirty minute drive back across Donte's side of town. Bobby opted to not turn the radio on and instead let the silence linger inside the car before he finally broke the silence about fifteen minutes in.

"There's a liquor store," Bobby started, "Elite Star Liquors, it's about ten minutes past the bridge when you come off Johnson Road. You ever heard of it?"

Donte shook his head. He didn't have a car or any money to afford a bus pass most of the time so his entire world revolved around the ten block radius that was around his aunt's apartment and the few times Bobby would pick up for Sunday dinner with his other side of the family. The side of the family that didn't consider him family.

"I can give you the address," Bobby added, "You're going to rob the joint."

"I am?" Donte was able to push through the pain and mutter those words.

"You are," Bobby confirmed, "Don't care how you do it, you're going to do it and then bring it over to your place. Once you do that, give me a call and I'll let Little Al know. Consider it......penance pay."

Donte had never robbed a store before so he wasn't sure why he was being asked to do this. Even if they did believe that he intentionally robbed that store, he was certain they had more qualified and experienced robbers to rob a liquor store another town over.

"That's why he wanted to meet with me, to ask me to rob a liquor store?"

"That was more like a zoo visit," Bobby shrugged, "Not to call you an animal but you understand what I mean, right? More like a circus, you know, there's a fascination and interest about you so he probably just wanted to take a look at you. Your old man used to work for Big Al, you know that?"

An animal. A circus freak. Donte didn't care, at least now he didn't. He was just happy to walk out of that meeting with his limbs still intact and heart still beating.
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Post by djp73 » 07 Dec 2018, 15:12

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Post by Chillcavern » 08 Dec 2018, 05:52

Holy shit Soap, this is intense. And good.

Not surprised, given your stuff way back in the day, but it's good to see you continued evolving. Following along for sure!
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The Moolie.

Post by Captain Canada » 10 Dec 2018, 02:23

I fuck with this, I'm ready for more

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The Moolie.

Post by Soapy » 14 Dec 2018, 20:52

djp73 wrote:
07 Dec 2018, 15:12
welcome my guy
Chillcavern wrote:
08 Dec 2018, 05:52
Holy shit Soap, this is intense. And good.

Not surprised, given your stuff way back in the day, but it's good to see you continued evolving. Following along for sure!
Thanks, Chill. I had been working on a sports-based one for a few years now actually, on and off, and tried to really plot it out before posting it and lost interest. For this one, just started writing and it flowed naturally. Should be fun for all of us, myself included.
Captain Canada wrote:
10 Dec 2018, 02:23
I fuck with this, I'm ready for more
here it comes.

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The Moolie.

Post by Soapy » 14 Dec 2018, 21:12

Donte wasn't sure what to make of his meeting with Alfonso Fiore Sr, you didn't just meet a guy like that. You certainly didn't because you robbed the wrong restaurant, Big Al plenty of capable and eager people that work under his to handle things like that. His uncle Bobby's explanation of it wasn't cutting it either. Could it simply just be Big Al's perverse curiosity that made him want to meet Donte? And the sudden request to have him rob a liquor store as some sort of retribution? This wasn't the sort of thing that needed to be outsourced, they had plenty of more qualified guys to rob a liquor store.

To make matters worse, Donte had no idea how to rob a liquor store given that, well, he wasn't the one to rob the restaurant in the first place. The person that was responsible for the impromptu robbery? Gone in the wind. Donte figured Martin had skipped town, wisely, too. Martin was a corner kid, a former stick up kid so leaving town in a hurry wasn't that much of a task for him. In all of their years knowing each other, going back to grade school, Donte never remembered Martin talking about his family so he just figured he didn't have any. Not any real ones anyway. Just the ones that count you on their tax return.


"I need a favor."

"Good morning to you too," Jamie rolled her eyes as she let Donte inside of her house.

He took a look around before taking his jacket off and blowing hot hair into his cusp hands. Winter was still two months away but the cold front had already started to bear it's teeth and warmed place like Jamie's apartment were hard to find, especially on this side of town.

"Sorry," Donte tilted his head as he took a seat, "Have you seen Martin?"

"He's sure got a lot of people looking for him," Jamie shook her head, "Bernard and my brother were around here, a few days ago, looking for him. His cousin, the one that works at the bank on Front Street? She also came by the other night, why does everyone think I know where he is?"

"He may or may not have been telling people since we were like sixteen that you guys have been..." Donte shrugged, deciding to leave the rest up for Jamie to figure out.

"I fucking hate him," Jamie twitched her head in disgust, "I'm just happy the cops haven't been around, you know, given the whole thing."

"I don't think the police are the ones handling that," Donte muttered.

"What's up though? I know you -- or really any guys I know -- come around here unless y'all need something."

"I can't check up on you?"

"Cut the bullshit."

"You're a tough one," Donte got up and stood in front of Jamie until they were less than feet from each other, "Your brother."

"What about him?"

"I need him," Donte said plainly, "I didn't want to go asking around for him. Guys like him, they get a wind of that and it's over for your ass."

"Guys like him? Please, he's still a candy-ass momma's boy, don't let them tattoos fool you."

"Do you know where I can find him?"

"It's going to cost you Mr. Mollicone," Jamie said with a smirk, butchering Donte's last name as is her custom.

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Post by Soapy » 14 Dec 2018, 21:43

"The fuck do you need a gun for?" Miles laughed as he put out his cigarette.

"Does it matter?"

"I'm asking you, ain't I nigga?"

"For protection," Donte answered, "Things of that nature."

"This ain't the oldies," Miles responded, "You can get a gun anywhere, fuck you calling my sister for to ask me for a gun?"

"I'm trusting that you won't give me one with twenty different bodies in eight different states," Donte scoffed, "I'm hoping those Sunday mornings playing balls when we were youngin' counted for something, right?"

"I was forgetting why I liked your ass," Miles' finally let his body relax as he sat down on the hood of his car, "You're a funny motherfucker, you know that? This ain't got nothing to do with the whole Martin situation?"

"I don't know where he is," Donte shrugged, "Either way, I figure it's best for me to keep a gun on me in case someone comes looking for him and ends up just finding my ass."

"At least I know your ass ain't going to go around robbing people," Miles patted Donte on the back before popping his trunk, "I mean, I know Martin was a dumb motherfucker but goddamn nigga, we one body short in the streets and he making us look like a mark skipping like that."

Miles went into his trunk -- Donte was smart enough to keep his distance -- and shuffled around for about a minute while he continued to rant about Martin. Donte looked up to Miles growing up, everyone in the neighborhood did. He always had jewelry on him and donned pinky rings before the boys in the neighborhood even knew that was a thing. The silk shirts, the pimped out rims, the groundbreaking haircuts, Miles had the look. Even though Bernard was the king of their operation, Miles was the face.

"This should get it done," Miles pulled out a gun and handed it to Donte, in broad daylight. He didn't seem that concerned with anyone seeing them.

"This is a CZ-75," Miles said, "And by the look on your face, you don't even know shit about shit, do you? Either way, this is some hot shit my nigga and it's going to cost you. Now, like I said before, I like you and you seem to be a resourceful kind of guy so we're going to pay it forward, understand me?"

"I hear you," Donte quickly took the gun and stuffed it into his waistband, not bothering to even take a look at it for too long.

"If you run out of bullets," Miles slammed his trunk shut, "Don't come to me, figure it out. Let me make this perfectly clear, you do not want to get caught with that gun, understand me? I like you, I don't love you so be fucking smart."
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