Mr. Mobster

by Yorgo Vetter, age 11
Mr. Mobster Yorgo is 11 years old, and enjoys writing when he can pick his own subject. His favorite narrators to write as are funny, exuberant children.

“I am evil. Then again, I seem to be the only one who thinks so. Don’t hate me; I’ve never killed someone or anything, but I’m still evil.”

I am evil. Then again, I seem to be the only one who thinks so. Don’t hate me; I’ve never killed someone or anything, but I’m still evil. Ever since I was a kid, I’ve wanted to be like my dad was, working at the coolest job in the world. He is (drumroll please…) HEAD OF THE MAFIA! At this point, if you’re one of the people thinking: “Oh my God, your dad is the head of the organization that has killed people and then used that as an excuse to kill even more people!” then stop reading right now.

But if you’re thinking to yourself: “That does sound kind of cool,” or even, “Why would you find that cool?” than bear with me. I’m not sure what the best part about my dad’s job is: the cool clothes and cars, the parties (I know, this might come as a big surprise but Mafia parties are awesome), the hats, the people, or just the pure…evilness. Anyway, I’ve been trying all my life just to get to do all of these things, but to no avail. I just don’t get how I’m “not evil enough.” What do they want me to do, bring in some dead bodies? Is it that Zander isn’t an evil enough name? I would literally give anything just to be a desk jockey (even those get cool hats and AK-47s).

I actually have a few friends who are also trying to get into the Mafia, with the same result. My first friend is Blake. When he was little, he would have totally been allowed into the kid Mafia (although then again, what did they use, shovels?) because he was always beating people up and feeding their homework to the dog (ironic, right?). But he is kind of sensitive (totally un-Mafia) and so when his parents found out, he never hurt anyone again.

Then there is Dominic: he is the brainiac that comes up with evil schemes and stuff. Sounds like he would totally get into the Mafia, right? WRONG. The Mafia does not need brains because this is their general rule of thumb: Take machine gun. Get people. Put people in a room. Spin around while shooting. Get as many people as you can. Oh, and don’t forget the evil grin. See any “evil schemes” there?

If you do, you’re totally overthinking it.

Then there is James. He is the explosives freak. Too much if you ask me. Quick story: his science fair project made every student evacuate the school. His Instagram account is full of videos of stuff exploding. He will post anything as long as it’s exploding. I know. We’re a weird group. At least everyone is evil (ish). Anyway, we’re meeting up tomorrow to decide what to do.

 

One day later…

 

“You still bein’ evil?” asks Blake with his usual excitement.

“You still not punchin’ anyone?” I reply (as always).

“But what if my par–”

“OKAY, I GET IT.”

Then suddenly, Blake’s pet sheep Al (you probably know why he named him that) comes next to us. Actually, I think that if anyone in our group were to go to the Mafia, it would be Al. Anyway, it turns out that Dominic called us here for an important meeting.

“Okay,” says Dominic. “Time for your weekly confidence booster: Al could probably overthrow the Mafia before you guys even got a job as a desk jockey. Anyway, I called you here to tell you something. How many times have you registered to join the Mafia?”

“Twenty,” we say in unison.

“I’m sorry guys, but I think it’s time to give up. Before you attack me, let’s remember that I’m the genius here.”

“WHAT?!?” we scream in unison again.

“We have dedicated our lives to this,” I bellow.

“As I said earlier, Al could overthrow the Mafia before you guys even became desk jockeys,” replies Dominic calmly.

“Hey, wait,” says Blake. “That’s not a bad idea. If we can’t join the Mafia, we could try to overthrow them. And you’ve already admitted that Al could overthrow the Mafia. What do we have to lose?”

“Huh! We would need a miracle to do that!” snaps Dominic.

“Well, if an evil genius, an explosive maniac, the son of the ex-head of the Mafia, a 300 pound 6’6” kid who refuses to hit a fly and a psychopath sheep that could beat the heavyweight wrestling champion in a few seconds isn’t a miracle, then what is?” says James, speaking for the first time.

“So your big scheme is based on a goat?!” says Dominic.

“Well, I guess it won’t be based on you!” I respond.

“Oh my God, you guys are crazy! But if you’re in, I’m in,” says Dominic. “But that doesn’t mean you’re not crazy.”

After many months of planning (well if it hadn’t been for Dominic, we would have attacked already, but, are you gonna argue with an evil genius?) we began. Everyone was nervous, except for Al (yes, even Dominic for once.) The plan had started.

James and I snuck down to the front door. We were worried, but then we heard it — a crack from behind the guards.

“OW! What the hell was that? I hire all these guards and then I’m injured by a chair!” squealed the guard captain.

Distracted by their injured captain, we managed to sneak the cake onto the desk. To be honest, we did a good job baking the cake…and setting the knock-out gas explosives.

“What’s this?” said one of the guards.

“‘To the wonderful guards of everyone’s favorite organization.’ Wonder who it’s from?” said one of the guards.

“What are we waiting for? Let’s dig in! I’m so hungry I could explode!” said a (significantly) chubbier guard.

Speaking of explosions…BOOM, CRACK, SMASH!

“Wow, great job James, just like clockwork,” I say high-fiving my friend. I radio in to Dominic: “Step 1, complete.”

“Good job. Blake is sneaking through the pipes now,” replies Dominic.

“How did you switch the chairs?” I asked.

“I didn’t. I just used aerodynamics. Would you like to learn how I did it?”

“No. Anyway, why are you sending Blake? He will make a lot of noise, after all, he is 200 lbs.”

“What else would he do? He wouldn’t throw a punch to save his life.”

“Fine, you win. We need to get going.”

“Roger that.”

Sigh. He’s so professional sometimes.

We took off for the secret passage my dad showed me when he was the leader, where he would meet Al (yes, sumo-goats are smart too.) Thump, thump, crack!

That must be Al, I thought to myself. Thank god I knew this passage, or the guards would have heard the bomb and found us. Luckily, that was just what we wanted. We took the passage behind the guard and (sorta) stealthily snuck behind them.

“Hey Al, want some carrots?” I whispered, and threw a bag of carrots at the guards.

“Those poor guards,” chuckled James.

Al went into rage mode (like the Al he was named after) and charged after the carrots (and therefore, the unexpecting guards). Soon, all the guards were on the ground being licked by the soon-to-be head of the Mafia. That’s got to have been bad for their self-esteem. We continued on, past the bodies scattered by the bomb and Al. Crackle.

I assumed it was a message from Dominic.

“Blake is almost there, what’s your status?”

“Doing fine. Al just took out the guards.”

“Great.”

Suddenly, we heard a noise. Like a click. Then thumping from behind us.

“DUCK!” I screamed.

Bullets fly across our heads.

“ROLL!”

I took them to a statue, and put in the secret code. The trapdoor opened up. We jumped in and blocked the entrance.

Just before we ducked in I spied who was chasing us. Big problem. It was head of security, who knew all the passageways by heart. We ran down the moldy halls of the tunnel until we reached a secret bunker. The head of security is always armed with a least two guns and a knife. Yikes. Even Al couldn’t beat that.

Crackle!

“Dominic!” I phoned in. “We got a fully armed head of security on our tails. Well, Al is the only one with a tail, but you know what I mean.”

“Doesn’t James have any explosives.”

I felt so dumb.

“Right. Of course he does,” I replied. “But wait a minute. He only has real explosives, not knock out gas.”

“Uh oh. Big problem. I’ll try to think of something. Try to keep him at bay.”

Then I had an idea.

“Dominic, do you have the building floorplan right now?”

“Yeah, why?”

“We’re in the secret tunnel under the statue. What is the wall behind us made out of?”

“Hey, not a bad idea. It’s made out of wood, you could blast us to the moon!”

James and I finish setting up the explosives just in time. *CRACK* The trapdoor

broke. *CRACK* The wall explodes.

“Grab Al and run!” I screamed.

The security guard is stunned by the blast, and must wait a little before he pursues us. That “little” makes all the difference.

“We literally just escaped the frickin’ head of security!” I screamed at James. “Bro hug!”

There are a surprising amount of times when I’m actually glad he’s an explosive freak.

We run with all our might, and soon we are out of breath. Well, except for Al. We take off towards the office, aware that the security guard would soon be on our heels.

“Blake, how are you doing?” I said over the radio.

“Doin’—” CLANK! “—Ow!” Thump. “Blake is down!”

“Come on, Dominic! Something has happened to Blake!” I said over my shoulder.

One problem. The only way to get to the pipes is back at the main entrance, where all the guards and commotion are. Wait hold up. Why am I doing this? This is Dominic’s job!

“Dominic! We got problems. Blake is down. The only entrance to the pipes is at the main entrance, where the guards are,” I practically screamed into the mic.

“James is out of explosives?” he replied calmly.

“Using explosives would destroy the water pipes, creating a flood.”

“Not gonna argue with our building expert. Anyway, just abandon him and invade the office yourselves.”

“YOU’RE JUST GONNA ABANDON ONE OF YOUR BEST FREAKIN’ FRIENDS?! ARE YOU NUTS?!”

“No, I’m just logical.”

“You know what? To hell with it! I don’t need you. I’ll just come up with my own plan, like I did when we were being chased by the head of security. We ca–”

“Speaking of the head of security, look behind you.”

Oh my god. This whole Blake incident completely made me forget about the head of security.

“Worrying about your little friend?” he chuckles.

“What did you do with Blake?” I scream at him.

“Nothing. The kid had lost his way in the pipes. He couldn’t do any harm. I just stole his poorly hidden mic. He’ll probably starve before he leaves. You and that little creature there, however, are a much bigger threat. That’s why I’m here.”

So this is how it ends? Are you kidding me? We are so close! It can’t—

Hey, wait a minute. Blake got lost? Blake never loses his way. Not even if you spin him around and make him drink wine. Then, I saw something. Just a glimpse. All of a sudden Blake is running full speed at the man threatening our lives. BAM! The head of security hits the ground. Immediately, Al is all over him.

“Good boy!” says Blake.

James and I are still stunned at this incredible turn of events.

“How? What? When? How?” we say in unison.

“Invasion first, questions later,” says Blake.

He looks nervous that he finally hit someone, but a see a smile creeping up his cheeks.

“Your parents will understand,” I say. That is, if they even find out.

Now that I think about this, I realize I forgot something important from an earlier scene (not the kind of thing that will change your life, but, important nonetheless). Blake was nervous about this whole invasion thing in the first place. Like, if his parents get mad when he hits someone, they probably might not be too happy if he’s the head of the Mafia. Anyway, we agreed to leave his name out of it, but still allow him to rule with us. Like an anonymous ruler. That’s what makes this so incredible (I still can’t get over the fact that I forgot this.)

Back to the story: We charged down the hallway, our final destination and soon-to-be office straight ahead. We opened the door…and inside was my dad. Just kidding! This is NOT Star Wars. Anyway, we open the door and…no one is inside. No, seriously. Where is the head of the Mafia?! Where?! Oh wait. How many times am I supposed to feel like the dumbest person in the world today? It’s twelve o’clock. The head of the Mafia is on his lunch break. We would be heads of the Mafia right now if it weren’t for a stinkin’ LUNCH BREAK!

“Uh, guys? Is it me, or is there no more head of the Mafia?” says James anxiously.

“He’s on his lunch break,” I replied.

“WHAT?!” everyone screamed in unison.

“Not even joking,” I grumbled.

“But what’s the big deal? You worried he will kill us with a tuna sandwich?” said Blake, although he still looked worried himself.

“The guards might have had a chance to warn him, and our whole plan will be ruined,” said James.

“Thanks, Mr. Positive,” snapped Blake.

“He has a point. We have to think fast. We not going to get defeated by the fact that the head of the Mafia needs a tuna sandwich, are we?” I said.

“I’ll think. But first, why are we obsessed by the idea of the head of the Mafia only eating tuna sandwiches?” I said.

He simultaneously received two kicks in the shins.

“What was that — ?!”

“THINK!” I screamed.

We heard thumps coming from the hall.

“Into the bathroom!” I cried.

We charged in, grabbing Al along the way. The thumps come inside the office.

“And how did these invaders take out all the guards with a SHEEP?! Stevenson, I want the truth!”

“But this is — ”

“Well even if this is true, that makes you the worst guards of all time. You’re all fired!”

The guard glumly walked out, ready to bring this news to his fellow guards.

“Okay guys, this is the plan: we sneak out –” I begin.

“And blow it up?” finishes — wait, do I really need to say who?

“No. We must get him captive. We’ll offer him his job or his life.”

“Right,” said James, sounding bummed.

“And we use Al?” asked Blake.

“That’ll be fun. It’ll make him pity the guard he fired!” I replied.

We snuck outside, behind the head. We can’t resist making a funny face when he’s not looking. We must be careful, I mean, he’s has a GRENADE CANNON for crying out loud.

“BAAAAA!” bleats Al.

The head turns around fully armed.

“I should have expect ― ”

SMASH!

And all of a sudden the head is crumpled on the floor, in a fetal position. I then notice the huge piece of plaster on top of him.

“What the…” I said, dumbfounded.

*Crackle* It’s Dominic!

“Did you—”

“Yes. I took into consideration what you said. I didn’t abandon you. Would you like to hear the Rube Goldberg invention that inspired me?”

“Sure. We owe you,” I responded.

After a long time enjoyed in our new office, the ex-head finally came to. First he was annoyed we ate his tuna sandwich (yes I know, it’s really true), but then he realized he had bigger problems (he was bound and gagged with his own grenade launcher aimed at him). Of course, he ended up giving in, and giving up his leadership, as Blake hid cowering in the bathroom hoping the ex-head wouldn’t see his face and tell anyone.

A few months later…

 

We did it. We finally finished. We have overcome life’s two biggest obstacles: overthrowing the Mafia, and understanding Dominic’s explanation of aerodynamics. Jokes aside, that was so totally awesome! I still can’t believe we did that. Also, I wanted to thank all of you who were skeptical at the beginning, but still bore with me. Hope you enjoyed my story. Have to go now…Mafia cupcake pet show party starts soon.

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