GODFATHER TIME

Echo tells me that while I was off at work in the big city on Friday a gang of monkeys came for their vig, a half-dozen mid-level operatives in the simian mafia swaggering around like they owned the place, and when they found out that I had taken all the mushrooms for myself, they swung from the trees in disbelief. This kind of personal insult is very disturbing to a bunch of made apes. It's the image, you know, the reputation, a matter of respect. They were very upset.

Echo chased them away a few times, but they just kept coming back to stare at the empty mushroom logs, turning them over, shaking their heads and screeching at each other, biting the logs in incredulity, scratching their armpits and trying to think, but I guess that didn't work.

After a while they took their frustration and disappointment out on the young lettuce. They even pulled up some heads and bit off leaves of others. They never eat lettuce, who are they kidding. They just wanted to show me who the hell's in charge here, but if they think some hairy illiterate thugs are gonna make me fork over my hard-earned mushrooms, they don't know I'm from Neeyawk.

They try that while I'm at home, it's Godfather time. Fuggeddaboddit.