The Mafia

So speaking of the Mob, have you become addicted to Mafia Wars on Facebook? No? I'm alone... Much like I am alone in my love for FarmVille. FarmVille appeals to my inner hick. Anyone born in the great state of Texas has one. My favorite blogger, PW, has a ranch not a farm- the kind with both cows AND horses. Who wouldn't love that? Prolly me, cows are kinda stinky. But a farm! Well, as long as someone else is doing the whole manual labor part.

Probably, I should stick to the Mob cause then I can hire some one to do the dirty work for me! My Family, like the real ones that I am actually related to, could fit right into the Mob.

We have the Grandfather: Pierre. Wait, he is supposed to be Italian not French. Um, How about Dom Pierre. Kinda sounds like champagne, but close enough for a hick from Arkansas.

We could show you his true identity, but then we would 

have to bump you off.

Um, and no, he does not know his mask is on upside down. It runs in the Family.

Then there is Dr. John Doe: Medical Master of Mayhem. Bwahahahahhaha.

We can show you his face because when he comes for 

you he will hide behind a surgical mask.

When Dr. Doe comes for you, you will never know what hit you! Essentially, cause he will knock you out with his magic fairy gases. And you will be forced to sleep through the entire procedure. I mean hit.

Then there is this player:

The Muscle: AKA Manual Labor: AKA My Little Bro

Just the guy you need when in a fix. Resourceful, cocky, and full of piss and vinegar. He don't hate or discriminate! He is an equal opportunity Killa. Yep, with an "A," as in able to strike fear into the hearts of old ladies and roosters with a single text message. Don't mess with this bad boy.

And then there was one:

  

The TrueFather

The Father of our Family. The scowler of scowls. The grower of long hair (with matching goatee!) The sole stock owner in L.A. Looks Super Mega Ultra Stiff Hair Gel (in pink or green).  His slicked back hair admits him immediately into any self respecting Mafia, so long as he keeps his black comb in his back pocket.

His steely eyed gaze intimidates all within its presence. The muscular twitch emanating from his cheek is enough to inspire a hiney-twinge in every prepubescent child within a 2 mile radius.

His fashion sense alone in enough to inspire fear in the hearts of those with a lesser ability to accessorize. He can slip undercover in the blink of an eye. He is the designer of Halloween costumes and first day of school outfits.

Yep. We could step into Mob shoes any day of the week. You better watch out doers of good- we are coming for you.