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Franklin sat at the bar nursing a glass of Jack over the rocks. The establishment was dimly lit being that it had been closed for the last couple of hours. But since the big man was a regular at the place and a big tipper, he was awarded privileges that other patrons weren’t. He was the only one in Jinx’s beside the heavy set bartender who was wiping the bar with a rag down at the moment.
“Hey, Frankie,” Jinx, the bartender, addressed him after cutting the lights out behind the bar. “I’m going home. Lock the place up, will ya?” he tossed him the keys and zipped up the jacket, tucking his chubby hands inside of its pockets.
A drunken Franklin spun around on the stool and lifted his glass to the bartender. The man shook his head with a smirk and made his out of the backdoor.
The mob figure swallowed the last of the alcohol occupying his glass and poured himself another half of glass. He moved to bring the glass to his lips. That’s when he felt the strength of eighteen inch arms wrapping around his neck. They possessed the might of an anaconda and were just as strong. Franklin’s eyes bulged and turned red webbed as he kicked and thrashed off of his stool. He tried clawing at the powerful biceps but it didn’t do any good. Gagging and chocking, he tried his damndest to break free but his assailant wasn’t having that shit. The big man was held tight until his movements became slower and his eyes eventually shut. He’d passed out cold and slumped in the stranger’s arm.
“He’s out cold, lay him beside the bar.” Andrea told Jan from behind the bandana that was on the lower half of her face.
Jan did as she was told. She grabbed Franklin under his arms and dragged him from off of the stool. Next, she laid him on the floor beside the floor snoring loudly. Afterwards, she pulled the bandana from the lower half of her face and wiped the beads of sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand.
Putting her pinky fingers at the corners of her mouth, Andrea whistled towards the back of the bar and motioned someone over. Moments later, Jinx came strolling out gripping a Beretta. He was in on the entire setup, having let the ladies in through the backdoor. See, old Jinx had a crush on Andrea. He’d tried hollering at her on several occasions when she and her girl dropped by the bar but she wouldn’t give him the time of day. The only reason why he agreed to go along with her sinister plan was because she promised to go out with him.
Stopping before the girls, Jinx held up his hand and rubbed his index and thumb together. This was the signal for the girls to fork over the money they’d agreed to pay him for setting up the mafia don. Andrea reached inside of her jacket’s pocket and pulled out a bankroll wrapped in a rubber band. After glancing at it, she tossed it over to him. Catching it, he popped the rubber band and licked his thumb, counting the dead presidents. Satisfied, he stuffed the bills into his pocket.
“Don’t forget Saturday night at 9 o’clock, you and me at Silvio’s. It’s a great lil’ Italian restaurant, I’m sure you’ll love the place.”
“You got it, handsome; Silvio’s Saturday night at 9 o’clock. I’ll be ready so don’t be late” Andrea smiled and stood on the tips of her sneakers. She kissed him on the cheek and made him blush.
“I won’t.”
“Now, why don’t chu be a gentleman and help us put this piece of shit in the van out back?”
“Sure thing, toots.” Jinx tucked the banger at the small of his back.
He grabbed Franklin under his arms and Jan grabbed his ankles. They strained and struggled as they carried him out the backdoor into the alley.
“Jesus, he’s even heavier than he looks.” Jinx complained. He turned red in the face and veins rolled up his neck.
“Fucking baby elephant,” Jan added. Her face turned red and veins rolled up her neck too.
“If the De Lucci family pinches you two broads for this thing, I never met any of ya’z. Is that clear?” Jinx strained as he crossed the threshold helping with the transporting of Franklin’s big ass.
“Don’t worry. Our lips are sealed, Jinx.” Andrea zipped her lips shut with an imaginary zipper. Once Jan had gone through the door, she was walking out right behind her.
They dumped the mob boss inside of the van and went their separate ways.
****
When Franklin came to he was butt naked and disoriented. Raw steaks, links, and chicken legs hung from him like Christmas ornaments would from a tree. His vision came into focus and he looked up at a sign that read: Don’t feed the animals.
“Haa!” He gasped and his eyes bugged. Licking his lips, he swallowed the ball of nervousness inside of his throat. His stomach twisted into knots and he felt queasy. Something told him to turn around and his eyes darted to his rear. When he turned around, he found a pride of hungry lions stalking in his direction and staring him down menacingly. The huge felines growled lowly and licked their flesh tearing choppers. All he could see was the outlining of their forms being that they were partially hidden by the shadows. Their red pupils seemed to glow and strike fear inside of his heart. Feeling his dick growing hot, he looked down and a wet spot expanding at his crotch.
“Hollly, shit!” Franklin panicked. He tried to get upon his feet but ended up crashing back to the ground. When he pulled his face up from the surface it was masked by dirt and he was wincing. He wiped the dirt from his eyes and blinked. The mafia don hissed like a snake as he felt the sharp pains shoot up his ankles. Looking back, he saw that both his Achilles tendons had been severed. Throwing his head up, he found the shapes of the pride moving in the darkness preparing to pounce on him. He scrambled on the ground, clawing at the surface as he struggled to crawl away. Before he knew it he was being charged by the predatory animals and shrieking loud enough to wake up the deaf.
“Grrrrr!”
“Grrrrr!”
“Grrrrr!”
“Aaarrrh!”
Franklin screamed bloody murder as he was ripped to shreds by fangs and claws.
Andrea and Jan stood behind the guardrails watching attentively as the wild beasts had their way with Franklin. Feeling that they’d seen enough, Jan nudged Andrea and they walked off smiling, giving each other a high five.
****
Mufasa slow danced with Eleanor. The loving couple staring into each other eyes as they moved around the blue marble dance floor of the restaurant. They recalled their very first date. It had taken place many moons ago, but the night was one they were enjoying now. The two kindred souls were experiencing déjà vu and falling for each other all over again. It was beautiful.
Mufasa danced four songs straight with his wife. She wanted to go for one more, but his bum knee wouldn’t allow it so Zeus stepped in for him. The kingpin watched them from the table and took pulls from a cigar that he’d pulled from his suit. He put the cigar into his mouth and whipped out his Zippo lighter. He struck a flame and was about to burn the end. But someone clearing their throat from over his shoulder gave him pause.
“Ahem. I’m sorry, sir, but there is no smoking inside of the restaurant,” The host informed him in a thick French accent and held his wrists at his waist.
“Sorry about that, boss,” Mufasa apologized, pushing himself away from the table and making his exit.
Mufasa stood outside looking through the huge glass window of the restaurant at Eleanor dancing with Zeus as he took pulls from his cigar. When his wife looked his way and smiled, he returned the gesture and waved back. She mouthed I love you and he mouthed it back in response. He was so focused on the love of his life that he didn’t even hear the soft footfalls that landed at his rear from above. It wasn’t until he saw the panic on Eleanor and Zeus’s faces that he knew that something was terribly wrong. His eyes focused on his reflection in the window glass and they met a pair of threatening eyes that were strangely familiar to him.
****
Click!
“Shit!” baldhead cursed.
“What happened?” ponytail asked, struggling and straining to get the first boulder out of the trunk.
“Mothafucking gun jammed...wait a minute, the safety was just on.” He lifted the small lever on the gun revealing a red dot. He moved to turn the gun back on Brolic and he pounced on him, knocking him to the dock. He then bit into baldhead’s cheek, taking a chunk of flesh when he pulled back. Baldhead let go of a blood curdling shriek that didn’t sound like it could have come from a human being. You could see the bloody skeletal bone structure of his teeth and jaw.
Brolic spat out the chunk of flesh and moved to pick up baldhead’s gun. At the same time, ponytail had dropped the boulder and went to draw his gun.
Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop!
A look of surprise came over ponytail’s face. He looked down at his wounds and then back up at Brolic, eyes bulging, jaw slacked. He dropped to his knees and fell flat on his face deader than a mothafucka. His blood flowed from underneath him and seeped into the cracks of the wooden boards that made up the dock.
Brolic tore the duct-tape from his wrists with his teeth and stepped to baldhead. He found him groaning in pain and holding his face while struggling to get back upon his feet. Brolic’s face twisted into a murderous scowl as he leveled his gun with his intended victim’s skull. The wounded man had just lifted his head and laid eyes on him when he’d pulled the trigger rapidly, busting off crazy.
Pop! Pop! Pop!
Chunks of the man’s dome went flying to his rear. He killed over and lay on his side with death in his eyes. Brolic was still mad dogging him with his weapon extended. Smoke rose from its barrel and evaporated into the cold air. He ran forward, and with a grunt, threw the pistol far off into the waters. Afterwards, he loaded the dead bodies into the trunk of the Crown Victoria along with the boulders and pushed it off of the dock into the dark waters. After making sure the vehicle had been swallowed by the dark waters, he ran off into the night.
****
Before Mufasa could react, Brolic pulled his head back and slit his throat. The meat of his jugular split open and blood sprayed the window glass, running down. He fell to the ground, eyes bulging and mouth moving animatedly. He lay there holding his throat as his blood coated the sidewalk. Brolic dropped a picture onto the sidewalk beside him. As his victim’s dying eyes stared up at him, he lifted his thermal revealing a tattoo across his broad chest. Taking his knife, he underlined the name going across it, Zonyai, before sheathing his blade and zip-lining back up the building. The picture he’d left laying in the kingpin’s blood was of Mufasa, Zonyai, and himself. Brolic’s face was the only one that didn’t have a red X over it.