I watch a lot of mobster films, and yea I kinda wanna be like them:/
I wish Indians weren’t such nerds, and instead e came to American the pursuit of a life of crime with no other motto besides “Get Rich or Become a Plumber” in mind like the Slavs and Italian did…but no, we thought it be much more investment savvy to take over the health care industry instead.
Still, I think a lot about if my life did run like a Scorsese film. Me, and my racially charged gang, fresh off the boat and dressed in our out of fashion track suits. We make or normally scheduled runs along the side of town we offer protection to, and racketeer them a little. As we pass by a barbershop your cousin, and associate employee contemporary, “Baby Face” decides he needs to teach one of the shop clerks a lesson on speaking about his baby face (In actuality the clerk had just said his name, but when you’re an insecure man with a baby face…nicknamed Baby Face…things kinda get lost in translation). Now Pauly 1 and Pauly 2 understand that Baby Face has been dipping into the familial cocaine stash a little extra heavily this month, but instead of checking his unbridled petty rage, they came along as support…because that’s how our tight nit clan rolls…by denying all opportunity for personal growth and thorough self-reflection, and ignoring the obvious telltale repercussions that are more than likely to ensue for our poorly justifiable actions. Tony decides to tag along because he wants to get a little done off the top. Pauly 3 has errands to run, buts sends his best regards.
We walk in and take a seat, and as Tony embraces one of the apprehensive barbers and gives him a hug, asking him how his two kids (giving their names, though he’s never met them) are doing in school (listing the address, though he’s never given them a ride). The barber, sensing the intention of the insincerely specific question, breaks down and tells Tony that he’ll do anything, to which Tony would probably just chuckle and respond with “You cooky bat, you know my usual trim. I think you’re losing it, old man. You might wanna get that life insurance policy checked out before it’s too late.”
By now, I’m sure Baby Face, Pauly 1, and Pauly 2 have found the specific shop clerk that Baby Face had it out for. If this completely imagined hypothetical scenario serves me correctly, the Paulies are probably holding him down (after roughing him up a little to keep him nimble), while Baby Face decides to take a little off the top.
Tony decides to watch the scene play out from the reflection in the mirror, as he continues to get his usual trim. Bemusedly, he back to them, “Ay Paulie 2, looks awful lot like the haircut Nan used to give ya”
Pauly 2 would reply “Oy shut up Tony!”, while the rest of the rest of us would be hollering in laughter. Even the barber cutting Tony’s hair could force a little chuckle… cause he had to.
I’m pretty sure you could even hear a couple inaudible gasps of breath from the scalped shopkeep, that could be considered a giggle.
Me, well amidst all this jubilation and casual bloodshed with my brothers, I get all excited and proclaim at the top of my lungs, some shit like “By Order of the Peaky Fucking Blinders.”