Hi beauties. Read if you want, vote if you want, and enjoy if you want.

P.s.

Ganja is marijuana

Bamba is an italian slang for cocaine

Google 'Beretta' if you want to know what 'Beretta' means.

Spooky smoke flows in the air, as the BWM Z4 and the Audi TT rush between lanes, leaving behind them flashes of light. The girls squeak and the others shout at the passing of motorized madness. After entering an open garage the BMW suddenly stop in front of the garage door blocking the Audi inside and making her brake growls from the sudden stop, as the fumes calm down the door of the Z4 open abruptly, from it comes a hairless man in his thirties with sharp eyes, black mustache and black beard, from russian heritage, a good physique, dressed like a bodyguard with a black smoking.

The man goes to the side of the TT and open the driver door, he then puts his hand inside the car and drag someone from it and strangles him against the wall while shouting like crazy.

"Where is the money Marcus!? Where the fuck is the money?! Give me my fucking money!"

The pulled one looked at him quizzically with an innocent air.

"What are you talking about? Money? What money? Don't really know what you are talking about"

"Ahaha..ahah.ahah Ahahahaha I will make you remember shithead, just wait, I will take my FUCKING lovely time with the FUCKING you!"

"Ah sorry, I have an appointment later, I am really sorry but I will have to decline."

Now the bald man is starting to have some veins popping, he looks at the apparently clueless man in front of him.

"Fuck you! Now you are coming with me!"

"Ah sorry but I still have to go.... Hmm if you want you can play with my friend Pietro the Beretta"

*BANG* The russian man look at the extended hand of Marcus with an incredulous pair of blue eyes, before falling down lifeless.

"Ooops, so Vladmir is dead now, huh? Like Mario. Fabio, Ryan, Lulu, Giovanni and all other my friends... It seems my friends have an expiration date, maybe I should search for some with better preservatives"

::::::::::::::::::::::::

Marcus looks at the poorly illuminated sky while smoking his Marlboro light, and think about what he did of good in his life.

Born 25 years ago in a poor family of american farmers, that emigrated to south Sicily in search of fortune, Marcus was never a good boy, he saw his family work to the bone in the family farm to make him go study in a good school, he started making bad companies when he entered highschool, a young boy without money, he started selling 'Ganja' to the 'Friends' then came the 'Bamba' to the lawyers. While his friends were trying to reform by entering the college he was busy making deals with the 'Mafia', and all continued like that until this day.

He tried, he really tried, hard, very hard to improve himself, but every time the past came to hunt him, by showing itself in front of his loved ones, making Marcus give up every time, until he came to accept himself as a crafty, arrogant bastard.

In the sky covered by the smog and the city lights, a star is getting bigger and bigger until it is in front of Marcus.

The last record in Marcus memory is: "Huh? A flying truck? Well cool method to die! As expected of me!"