1) Gone Fishing
An olive green Rolls-Royce pulled to a stop alongside Pure River Park, a small park that went along the riverfront in Pure City, Michigan. The back passenger's door opened, revealing a man who was about thirty years old. He had cinnamon-blonde hair and dressed as any other well-to-do businessman in Pure City would — in a black Armani suit with a wine-faced watch and a pearl-handled pistol that he kept in his belt. His name was Donald "Don" St. Clair, and he was clearly the man in charge of America's Mafia.
The next man to exit the expensive vehicle was the driver, Skip Kennedy, a longtime friend of Don's and the lieutenant in Don's entourage. Skip was dressed in his typical leather jacket, white t-shirt and leather boots. He reached into his jacket pocket and removed a purple bong. He began inhaling from the bong as he stepped around the vehicle to meet with Don at the entrance to the park.
"Guess we'll need to wait for Ricky and CaCa," Skip commented to Don after inhaling smoke. He then coughed for a moment before adding, "Unless they're already at the river."
"I believe they are," Don replied.
"How do you know?" Skip wondered.
Don pointed to his left, where a trail of destroyed trees and burnt lamp posts led to a massive red tank that was parked in the middle of a riverside nature trail. It was the CaCa mobile, perhaps the most feared street vehicle in the world. Everywhere it went, it left a trail of mass destruction. In fact, perhaps the only thing scarier than the CaCa mobile may have been the man who drove it, CaCa the Clown.
Don and Skip continued walking down a path that led to the Pure River Docks. Once they arrived, the two could see that the other two members of their crew were standing on the dock already. One of the men was a short, fat Latino man with a devious smile and an incredibly promiscuous personality. His name was Ricardo "Ricky" Juan, and he was the advisor to each member within the group. The next one was the 'clown you won't forget,' CaCa the Clown, Don's enforcer. He was a massive, hulking black man that dressed in a nice suit and decorated his face in black and white makeup. They appeared to be fishing, as they were both on the dock holding fishing poles with lines cast into the water.
"Fishing? Seriously?" Don spoke forcefully as he pulled a cigarette from a pack and lit it.
Ricky turned to face Don, and then smiled up at him and waved to him. "I'm not fishing Don," Ricky replied. "CaCa may be, though."
"Then what are you doing?" Don wondered, taking a drag on his cigarette.
"I'm trying to hook a pair of panties that some chick threw in the river a minute ago," Ricky answered, turning back to tend to his pole.
Don walked down to the docks to come closer to his men. "So CaCa," he began speaking to the psychotic fishing clown who now stood only a few feet away from him.
"What?" the clown asked him in a deep, demonic voice, turning to face Don.
Don paused for a moment as the man's menacing voice was enough to make anyone quiver in fear. He eventually continued, "Oh, just wondering why you're fishing when we should probably be focusing on our plans."
"It relaxes me," CaCa replied, turning back to the river and beginning to reel in his hook.
"You know," Don said. "I do need you to be the psychotic, coldhearted maniac who helps me take this town. Now you're fishing in the river? Nothing about that sounds threatening." Don paused to take another drag on his smoke. "Catch anything?" he wondered as CaCa pulled in his line to reveal a pink-fleshy blob that was on the hook.
"No, just recasting," CaCa responded.
"Then what's that on the hook?" Don wondered.
"Bait," CaCa answered. He then recast the line further out into the river. "I'm using squirrel, baby squirrel."
"Ah-ha!" Ricky suddenly yelped. He quickly reeled in his line and triumphantly pulled out his catch. "I got it!" Ricky happily exclaimed as he turned to face Don holding an old, tattered pink pair of underwear. Ricky examined the underwear for a moment before finally adding, "It has a brown stain or two, but I'll still add it to my collection."
"You know, I've learned not to even ask," said Don, who could only shake his head at his advisor's comments.
Don threw the remainder of his cigarette to the ground, stepped on it, and turned to Skip, hoping for his old friend to give him a sign of hope for their endeavors. However, before he could talk, he saw that Skip was snorting a white powdery substance.
"Great," Don said sarcastically. He turned and walked back to the Rolls-Royce. As soon as he was out of ear shot, he continued, "You guys are going to be the death of me."