The Mob

In my home town there are a lot of Italian people. And I have come to really, really like their food along with some of their funny antics. But one thing I know is that when you recieve a severed head with a note on it’s forehead it usually means your shit out of luck. My poor great grandmother had a little run in with a man named Vinny. I guess she said some things that wasn’t the sweetest, and a couple of days later she bit down into a meatball and blew into a couple of million pieces of dear old great grandma.

Needless to say I’m a little shakey today.

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